#tv: x company

[lanistas]

All my favourite shows fit into one of these categories. So I had a thought. Hear me out.

[chimaeraonwards]

no ai generated content will ever compare to the absolutely cartoonishly evil plot to cut down trees to prevent workers from striking to get livable wage.

[farthaus]

o torture of thought! o sad lament! we wish we could quiet you! we wish deep down, to ourselves, to suffocate this hydra for good!

[marvey-sideblog]

they're dating 😌

[restinslices]

Everything pt2

PJO Show Ares X Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 6168 (I realized a bit late that majority is me setting up the scene. If you just wanna see their talk, read after the “~~”)

Summary: You haven’t seen your father since the last time you talked, but of course with your luck he finds you again and you’re forced to make a big decision.

Warnings: Reader is going through it, poor attempt at a fight scene, the lore and timeline is probably fucked up but ignore that, OOC Ares probably and as of typing I’m realizing MAJOR SPOILER FOR THE TITANS CURSE. To avoid this, scroll until you see “I don’t have any friends that come over” or “~” if you wanna be extra careful.

You’d love to say that not seeing your father after your last talk was some sort of surprise, but it wasn’t. Thankfully (is that selfish to think?) none of the demigods had a real good relationship with their parent. Well, Percy seemed to have a solid relationship with Posideon, but it’s not like he saw him everyday. And as selfish and heartless as it sounded, that offered you a bit of relief and comfort. It’s not like your father was sensitive and loving to you and you screwed it up. Everything was pretty much back to normal. 

 It was a pretty somber day at camp. Percy, Grover and Thalia had managed to save Annabeth and Artemis, but it didn’t come without casualties. You weren’t necessarily friends with Bianca or Zoë but you still grieved over them. The hardest part though, was watching how sad your friends had gotten, especially Percy. You knew what Percy was like. Percy was extremely loyal but that loyalty led to carrying a lot more weight on his shoulders than what was necessary. If your suspicions were right (and you knew they were), he’d blame himself for Bianca’s death. That made zero sense to you. He told you exactly how she died and to you, it seemed like Bianca made a choice. Percy couldn’t have done anything to stop it. He didn’t see it that way and you weren’t sure why you insisted on telling him over and over again and trying to cheer him up. 

 “Nico?” Percy raised to his feet when he saw you approaching. You shook your head,

 “No sign of him. He’s been missing for a week now Percy. If we were gonna find him, we would’ve found him by now”. Percy looked defeated. You were sure he knew the chances of finding him were slim to none, but you kept combing areas of the woods for him to keep him somewhat at peace. If he thought there was a chance, he wouldn’t be as depressed hopefully. 

 “I’m gonna say it again-“

 “Don’t”

 “Well what should I say to calm you down?”

 Percy thought for a moment but just shrugged and started heading inside his cabin and you followed. Percy collapsed on his own bed and you took it upon yourself to sit on the bed next to his. You didn’t know if it was because you held resentment towards your father, or if you actually liked Cabin 3 but you really wished this was your cabin instead. “Must be nice having a cabin all to yourself. No obnoxious cabin mates, no extra noise, nobody leaving their shit on the floor”.

 “I guess” was all he said back to you and you sighed. You didn’t wanna keep repeating yourself but you genuinely didn’t know what to say but not saying anything made you feel like an asshole that was ignoring the situation. 

 So you tried to change the subject. 

“Is it like this at home too? Just you and your mom? No friends over?”. 

 “I don't have any friends that can come over”

 “None at school?”

 “None”.

 That made you frown. You were older than Percy by a few years, so you had time to adjust to how lonely life could be as a half-blood and by now, you didn't return “home” either. Camp was your home now year round. You understood why Percy kept going home though. You heard about his mom and she seemed like a nice woman. You were grateful he at least had that. 

 But instead of saying something sweet and nice and voicing your thoughts, you made a joke instead. “That's why your little ass keeps getting into trouble. You have no one out there watching out for you”

 “My mom watches out for me plenty”

 “But she's not keeping schools from being blown up now is she?”. Percy rolled his eyes, but he didn't look as sad as before so you took this as a sign to keep talking “if I was watching you, you'd be alright. At least you'd have help”

 “You're tryna live with me now?”

 “Sure”, you said with a shrug. “A cool mom, random blue food, stopping you from exposing yourself - it all sounds grand”. You both laughed at your joke because that's what it was. A joke. 

 At least… it was at first. 

 Either Percy didn't know what a joke was, or he was pretty fond of having a big sibling when he was home because the next day he told you he sent an Iris message to his mom and she was fine with getting an air mattress for you. You almost told Percy that it was just a joke, but then you thought about how lonely he must be at home and how annoying it can be only having his mom to talk to about this demigod stuff. Plus, it hopefully wouldn't hurt to get a break from camp. 

 You didn't know why you decided to pray and tell Poseidon about this, but you did. The sun had set and you slipped out of your cabin and snuck into the woods. You made a mini fire and threw two candy bars the Stoll brothers managed to sneak in, which was a real shitty offering but it was all you had. You couldn't do it during the feast. You had too much to say and someone would hear. 

 “Terrible offering, I know. I hope you're listening anyway” you started. “I'm gonna be following Percy around when he goes home and I'm gonna try and keep him and Sally somewhat safe. I don't know how safe Percy can really be but I'll try anyway. I hope that's not a problem. I'm not tryna step on your toes or anything”. 

 In all honesty praying and giving offerings felt strange. You were supposed to pray to Ares everyday and give him an offering, but you stopped doing that after your last talk. The first time you threw food in a fire and didn't say his name, you thought you'd combust as a punishment. You didn't though, so you kept doing it. Occasionally you'd give offerings to other gods but it was mainly Athena. Partially because she was like Ares but not really and partially because you hoped it would upset Ares. Was it childish? Yes. But compared to someone as old as Ares, you were a child. 

 “That's all I really have to say. If you don't want me to go you can drown me in my sleep or maybe send a letter. Whatever works for you”. You looked around, expecting for some paper saying “absolutely not” to land somewhere around you but nothing happened, so you put out the fire and snuck back into your cabin. 

~

 You don't think you have a huge ego, but you definitely felt you deserved a pat on the back for how good your work was. 

 You were able to convince your own lousy family to hand over any legal documents to Sally and thankfully Percy's middle school had a highschool right next to it. Although the demigods weren't supposed to use phones, a minor text here and there saying “hey, I think there's monsters here” didn't hurt anyone. There were plenty of times you had to sneak out of your school and into his, and if you weren't so busy fighting for your life, you'd audition to be in some spy or assassin movie. 

 Thankfully though, you weren't always busy helping Percy. You figured you might as well help Sally out so you got a job at a nearby bookstore inside of a mall and honestly? You'd prefer fighting monsters over dealing with bratty customers. Seriously though, how can you be a bitch at a bookstore? 

 “I've already told you ma'am” you said in a monotone voice, “we can't give you a refund if you do not have a receipt”. 

 The black hair woman scoffed and looked at you as if you caused the problem she was having. “A receipt? Do I seem like the type of woman who keeps a receipt?! When I bought Twilight, I expected better and I hate it and now I want a refund and as the customer, I am always right!”. 

 The entire conversation made you wanna explode in front of her and change the trajectory of her life, but unfortunately it didn't happen. What was with mortals and not understanding basic store rules?

 “I would love it if you were right but you're not. No receipt. No refund”. She scoffed again and you wanted to grab her by the throat and stop the noise from ever leaving her mouth again. 

 “Well what do you expect me to do?!”

 “Pick up a different book then get out maybe?”. 

 You couldn't put a finger on the noise that came out of her next. It was some deep throaty sound with a mix of anger and disgust. “Do you know who I am? I'm Holly Holiday-” you accidentally cracked a smile at her stupid name and that just fueled her rage. She pointed a finger at your name tag and said your name, followed by “you are so done for! I'll have you eaten alive for this!”. 

 She turned on her heels and left in a huff. Fucking finally. 

 You looked over at your coworker Harper and pretended your fingers were a gun and shot yourself, getting a laugh out of her. Harper and her twin Hazel shared a few classes with you and by some coincidence they also worked in the mall. Harper was with you while Hazel worked at the costume store downstairs. You couldn't tell them apart and you weren't sure if you'd ever pass the “we talk sometimes” stage but it didn't matter right now. 

 “I know it's closing time but are you ok if I take a bathroom break really quick? I can help out when I get back”

She waved dismissively, “take your time man. Hazel'll be coming up here too”. You nodded with a small thank you and stepped into the mostly vacant mall. The mall was usually lively but with it being so late at night, the only people around were other people like that annoying customer and workers who had the misfortune of still working this late. 

 It was eerily quiet. Sure, you thought you were used to how silent it was at this time of night, but you still got the creeps and did not take your time alone in the bathroom. 

 Maybe you should have though, because once you left the bathroom that same annoying lady was waiting outside, which she definitely should not have been doing. 

 “I told you I did not like that book”. 

 Seriously? She was still complaining? She was still here after the store had pretty much closed? 

 You said something that would've gotten you fired if your boss was around, “yeah? Tough shit lady. No receipt, no refund, it's as simple as that. Don't buy books you haven't read. Now get out the mall and go take care of your kids”. 

 She snarled. A genuine snarl that made you start to sneakily slip off the bracelet you were wearing. You didn't know if gods could give other kids gifts, and either it had been allowed this whole time or Poseidon didn't care since shortly after your “chat” after hours you received a dagger that could transform into a bracelet. You thought maybe Ares had sent it, but his gifts didn't smell of the ocean and a fresh breeze. 

 Regardless of who gave it to you, that snarl didn't sound good. 

 “I don't think you're very good at your job”

 “I guess I'm not. Now do us both a favor and just leave”. 

 She didn't leave. Instead she smirked and that was all the confirmation you needed to know something was wrong. The bracelet slipped off your wrist and while the monster was transforming, you gripped your weapon and brought it up through the bottom of her mouth. You pulled it out, but not through the entry wound. You pulled it towards you, letting it split her face in half. 

 Just in case, you stabbed her in the heart, twisted the knife then pulled it out of her through the side of her chest. You didn’t have to wait for her to crumble. It was game over. A surprisingly easy win. 

 You grabbed some nearby napkins so you could wipe your dagger clean then returned it back to your wrist. 

 “What happened?” Harper asked once you stepped back inside, which was really odd for multiple reasons. 

 Firstly, you looked like you usually did. Nothing about you was particularly out of place. At least you didn't think so. 

 Secondly, she didn't sound curious. She didn't sound concerned. She sounded frustrated, like you did something wrong. 

 “Nothing” you lied. “It's nothing. Let's just clean up, yeah?”. 

 “I'm sure it's not nothing Child of Ares”. 

Your brows knitted together and you hoped you just heard wrong. You turned to look at Harper and that's when it started to click. 

 Harper. Hazel. Holly. 

 Harpies. 

 They were too lazy to pick a different initial for the first name and you fell for it like an idiot. Plus the “I’ll have you eaten alive” comment. But in all fairness, who actually takes those comments seriously? If you took every threatening comment seriously, you'd be sent to an asylum. 

 Harper's short red hair looked like flames now. Her green eyes looked hungry for your flesh and her sharp teeth glistened in the light as feathers grew from her arms. Realistically, you should've been scared. There were two alive harpies in the building, but something about a monster with a gray shirt with mini white books decorated on it really made you wanna laugh. She must've sensed this since she sneered, 

 “You think I'm funny?”

 “Do you want an honest answer?”

 “You won't think I'm so funny soon you spoiled demigod!”. You wanted to make a joke about how calling children with severe abandonment issues “spoiled” was silly, but you decided this wasn't the time. Instead you took the bracelet off. 

 Harper laughed in your face. “You think that will stop me?” 

 “Handled your friend pretty well. How about you stop trash talking and come over here so we can see if you're any different”. You don't know which comment got her so angry but she leapt at you. 

 You sidestepped her and planned on delivering a quick stab to the neck, but she must've seen it coming. She grabbed something and quickly turned to bat you in the face with it, making you stumble back. It took you a quick second to realize she hit you with a book. A Goosebumps book no less. 

 “You are incredibly childish” you mumbled and you wished you could laugh it off. Maybe you were childish too because you picked up the book and launched it at her face, feeling a tad bit disappointed when she dodged it. 

 You swung at her but she caught your wrist and squeezed hard enough to make you drop your dagger. You were quick on your feet though and you brought your available elbow down on her inner elbow (you were sure it had a scientific name but honestly who cares?). You heard a crunch and Harper screeched. Her grip loosened enough for you to snatch away while kicking her, her flying and hitting the railing. 

 You grabbed the dagger and threw it. You meant for it to hit somewhere fatal but she moved and instead it hit her directly in the eye, which made her screech even louder. 

 You snatched your necklace off and the object quickly took the shape of a double sided sword. It was a gift from your father and although he was probably pissed at you, you figured he probably wasn't watching and wouldn't care. 

 You charged at her and swung the sword. Although she was screaming in pain and was no doubt in agony, she slid under the blade. As she turned to face you, her hands moved and a sharp gust of wind knocked you off the third floor. 

 To make matters worse, Hazel decided to make an appearance. She was right below you, cackling, arms outstretched and you knew if you landed in those arms she'd devour you. 

 You did the only thing you could think of with such short timing. You angled the sword vertically and aimed directly for her mouth. She seemed to understand but it was too late. You came crashing down, your sword along with you and it slid directly in her mouth and down her throat. Because of the sword having a solid middle so you could hold onto something, it didn't go all the way through and you stumbled a bit, but you were better off than her. She stopped all movement and to make sure the job was done, you ripped the sword through her, cutting her in half. 

 “MY SISTER!”,  Harper screeched and you looked up at her with your messy sword in hand. 

 “You want more from the Child of Ares?!” You claimed you hated trash talk and you especially hated being called his child but the adrenaline was really getting to you. “I have plenty to give!”. 

 She flew up higher and started to come down fast towards you. You readied your sword, prepared to end this but suddenly she stopped and started trembling. 

 “L-L-Lord Ares. I-”

 Before you could ask any questions and she could finish her sentence, you were being launched into the air. The scream you let out was embarrassing but it didn't matter in the end. You both collided and hit the wall and instead of being knocked out or injured like you thought you'd be, you were completely fine. Your sword went straight through her chest and pinned her to the wall behind her and you were hanging above the ground, grasping onto the hilt of your sword and hoping your hands wouldn’t start sweating. 

 “L-L-Lord Ares. I-”

 No. No way. It couldn’t be. But who else could’ve launched you in the air like that?

 You looked down and there he was. You don’t know why, but you expected him to look somewhat different. Maybe a new haircut or a new jacket. Maybe he’d try contacts, but no. He looked exactly the same. You didn’t know if you were comforted or unnerved by it.

 You wished you had something cool to say but all you said was “what are you doing here?”.

 “Saving your life”. Yeah right. You had everything 100% under control. He chuckled and you started to wonder if he could read your mind. When you screamed internally though, he didn’t flinch so that theory went out the window. Maybe you looked annoyed and didn’t know it. 

 “Are you gonna catch me?” You asked.

 “What for?”

 “Because you threw me all the way to the fifth floor and it’d be nice not to break something”

 “You need me to warm up milk up for you too?”.

 Fuck it. You’d risk the broken leg.

 You tightened your hands around the hilt and planted your feet on the wall then pushed off with all your might. Fortunately, you got the sword out the wall. Unfortunately, you were now falling from five floors up. 

 You braced for impact, but instead of falling and hitting the floor, you fell into someone’s arms. You looked up, thinking that maybe someone was with your father that you didn’t see before, but no. It was him. He caught you. Something you weren’t expecting but you weren’t against.

 You mumbled a thanks and stood on your feet. The year was 2006 when you last talked. It was early in 2008 and while that wasn’t that big of a gap, the talk you had last time made things more awkward. 

 “I thought you’re not allowed to interfere”

 He raised a brow at you as if saying “you care about rules now when you’ve been breaking them?”. Were you breaking them though? Sure you were encouraged to give offerings to your parent but you hadn’t been punished… yet. If it was so bad you wouldn’t be walking right now. And you doubted he paid enough attention to notice. He was probably relieved to have one less kid bothering him.

 Gods, you were a downer.

 “Are you gonna tell on me?” He asked.

 “If you hadn’t caught me”

 “And now?”

 “My lips are sealed”. You didn’t see his expression. You were too busy looking down at your shoes. A habit you hated you developed. It made you feel small. But you guessed demigods were supposed to be small in comparison to their parent. That’s why you showed them respect but they hardly returned the favor. 

 A moment of silence passed before he spoke up again.

 “You have money on you?”.

 Was he gonna rob you now? “Uh, yeah”.

 “You’re paying for dinner. Let’s go”

 He started walking away before you could even respond, and like a reflex you grabbed his arm to slow him down. “I can’t”.

 “Can’t?” He said so calmly it kinda scared you.

 “Yeah. I can’t. My uh…” you decided not to tell him the entire truth about staying with Percy and Sally. “My ride… mom. She’s coming to get me. You don’t want mom knowing you’re in town, right?”. 

 He looked you up and down and you tried your best to not seem nervous. You weren’t sure he believed you but he let it go for the night.

 You wished it stayed that way. That he’d just go back wherever he came from but instead he told you the name of a diner nearby and said to be there by noon tomorrow and that you were paying. 

 “Great. Thanks dad” you thought. “I always love our talks”.

~~

 The good thing about his random plan to go to a diner at noon was that you were allowed to clean yourself and sleep beforehand. The bad thing was that now you were sitting across from him and it was incredibly awkward. 

 Ares kept laughing at his phone and you debated on asking him what was so funny but he said “started a Twitter war about vaccination. It’s getting good”. You screamed in your head again, but once again he didn’t flinch. Maybe he just had a good poker face.

 “I’m happy for you?”. He glanced up at you and instead of going back to his phone, he set it face down on the table. You didn’t know if he seemed to glow because of the little war he started, or if a source of light was hitting him nicely. Maybe it was a god thing. 

 “You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you here”

 Was this an HR meeting? “I’m wondering why I’m paying”

 “Ask me”

 “You know I wanna know though so why am I asking?”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you and you could hear his foot tapping on the floor.

 You rubbed your brow, already feeling a migraine coming on. You took a deep breath and let out a sarcastic response (which was not a good idea but your mouth worked faster than your brain). 

 “Ares, the amazing God of War. The Protector of Mistreated Women. Wearer of biker jackets. I come before you as your humble child, begging thee to tell me what required my summons and why you were at the mall last night. Please please please tell me. I’ll fall over and die if you don’t”.

 Sarcastic or not, he accepted it. He motioned towards the platter of burgers and fries, “this is your thank you. This is your offering to me since you haven’t been doing that”. 

 Well fuck. You didn’t think he’d notice. 

You leaned back in your seat and your fingers strummed against your knees and you had to remind yourself that running out probably wouldn’t end well.

 “You noticed?”

 “I did” he said simply. It reminded you of how emotionless he was the last time you talked. It reminded you of how frustrated you were that he talked as if nothing was wrong and as if your pain didn’t affect him. 

 “You demigods think you’re so smart. You have these big egos and think you’re ahead of us. You gave your offerings to Athena and Poseidon of all people ” he spat their names like it left a bitter taste in his mouth to mention them. 

 “And then you stay with that fish boy and his mom. Yeah. I saw that too. And I save your life and you don’t seem the least bit grateful”.

 Grateful.

 Something about that word you hated.

 Grateful? What was there to be grateful for? “Yeah dad, I’m super grateful my life consists of monsters trying to eat me and a dad I only see once in a blue moon. Totally grateful”.

 “We can’t interfere”

 “Didn’t stop you last night”

 He tsked, “I don’t get you. You complain about my absence then you complain when I’m here when I could be doing anything else!”. His voice rose but the people in the diner were either used to this or didn’t care enough to say anything.

 The nervousness and the fear rolled off you the more he spoke. Gratefulness? Doing anything else? You weren’t stopping him. 

 “Then go do those things. I’m not holding your hand and making you stay”. Your brain told you to shut up and apologize, but your mouth wasn’t having it. “And this isn’t about us and you know it. This is about you. This is about your ego being hurt. You don’t care about my safety. You didn’t go to the mall to protect me. You just love a fight and you were probably disappointed you couldn’t do more”

 “That’s what you think?” His eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite place. Anger obviously, but it seemed like something else was there. Or maybe there was literal fire in his eyes. Either way, it was clear he was upset and if you didn’t shut up soon, he’d probably turn you into a random animal.

 But who didn’t love animals?

 “That’s what I know. And I didn’t need your help. I was just fine. The only thing you would’ve missed if I somehow died was your little offerings. I don’t matter to you. Just admit it so we can move on”. Ares opened his mouth to say something, but you spoke again “and for your information Percy and Sally are very nice people. They feel more like family than you do”. 

 That shut up whatever he planned on saying. The last time you two talked you swore you saw an emotion cross his face. This time you were definitely sure you saw something cross his face before it went back to its default expression. 

 Was that regret? 

 No. That was stupid and you’ve had plenty of stupid thoughts. 

 It went silent. Weirdly, eerily silent. 

The diner wasn’t silent obviously but you two were.

You both were just staring at each other like statues. You wished you could read his mind. You hoped you would see thoughts of regret and sorrow and maybe hopefulness about your relationship going forward. You wished he had the same thoughts you had. Another stupid thought. Being hopeful didn’t work with him.

 For whatever reason, your mind wandered off to the late night talks you’d have with Sally and for whatever other reason, you started to speak.

 “Have you heard the song American Pie? Yes, it’s somewhat important to what I have to say. Yes or no only please”

 He looked bored and unamused but he answered anyway. “I don’t know. Maybe? Who cares?”.

 “There’s a line in the song that says this’ll be the day that I die. And for whatever reason it made me think about what I’d do if I were dying. If I woke up one day and I knew I was gonna die that day, what would I do? You wanna know what I realized?”

 He raised his brows for a second and leaned back in his chair. There was a possibility he was still bored but he seemed somewhat interested. “Shoot”.

 You smiled bitterly. Here he was so calm and fine and here you were, speaking slow and hoping your voice didn’t waver or crack. “I realized-” you failed. Your voice wobbled a bit and you cleared your throat a little too loud. “I realized I’d spend every second trying to make you love me”.

 You didn’t bother trying to read any expression he had next. You knew you’d always get it wrong and you’d imagine what you wanted to see. “And I uh… I don’t wanna be that way anymore”. You blinked rapidly, trying to prevent any tears from falling out. You didn’t have the rain to cover your face and blend in like you did last time. “And selfishly I hope that scares you”.

 “Gods don’t feel fear”

 “Well whatever you wanna call it I hope you feel it. I hope -and I’m gonna keep calling it fear- I hope you feel afraid for what that means for us”

 “Allow me to humor you for a bit” you felt as though the comment was supposed to be sarcastic but it didn’t sound sarcastic or aggressive. It was weirdly soft. “Why would you not wanting to spend your last day with me scare me?”

 “Because that means I won’t admire you anymore” you answered. “You don’t get it. You don’t get how much you mean to me. You don’t get how much I used to idolize you. Before I was claimed, I was already intrigued by you. Once I was claimed I read every single story that had to do with you. I was honored to be your child and tried to show you how honored I was everyday. I didn’t do all this for me. The training, bettering my Greek, learning everything I could about mythology. I didn’t do that for me. I did that so I would never shame your name and make you look like you raised incompetent idiots. The way I would defend your name and what you represent, you’d think I was being paid”

 “Me not admiring you anymore means I won’t care about defending you. It means I won’t care anymore about our family relationship. And I hope the idea of me calling you Ares instead of dad terrifies you. That emptiness or indifference I’ll feel when I hear your name… I know it hasn’t happened yet but thinking about it terrifies me too. Maybe I’m just selfish and don’t wanna be alone”. You used your sleeve to wipe at your wet face, a mix of embarrassment and relief for finally getting this out of you. “I could be right. I doubt it. I’m probably just making all that up but either way I need you to stop doing this. Seeing you at all, it gives me hope. I don’t want an enemy for life. I’m not Percy. But this is just gonna make this harder and if you hate me I am begging you to have mercy and leave me be. No visiting. I won’t come to see you when we do that little field trip either. I’ll stay at camp or I’ll go bother another god. Hermes is really nice. And if I break my end of the deal you can do whatever you want to me. Turn me into an ant, rearrange my fingers, throw me down a flight of stairs at full force, whatever”.

 There you went again making up shit. Swearing you saw something worse than sadness on his face; grief. That was impossible. Your eyes were just playing tricks on you like they always did. 

 You didn’t know what you wanted him to say, but you didn’t expect “you think, but you don’t know anything”.

 “Then tell me what I don’t know”. He didn’t say anything. He went silent and you were getting real tired of his silences. You sighed, “Sally’s been waiting outside so…”

 “Yeah…”. He let out a breath. Annoyance. Had to be. “You want this?” He asked.

 You were honest. “No” you said instantly. “No I don’t but this just seems like the best thing to do”. He didn’t argue with you. 

 Your hand went to reach inside your pocket for money but then he spoke again “keep it”.

 “It’s no problem-”.

 “Just keep it”.

 You nodded. 

 You stayed sitting down. Why was it so hard to stand? Why did your legs feel so wobbly and your throat so dry? Why did your chest feel like a huge weight was crushing it? Weren’t you supposed to feel the opposite? Free and lively? Feel like you could float?

 Another stupid thing escaped your lips. “Can you do me a favor?”.

 “Another one?” He asked lifelessly- no. He was not lifeless. He was happy. You were sure of it. You’d leave and he’d cheer because he wouldn’t have to deal with another kid anymore. You knew it.

 “It’s not a favor if you don’t wanna see me either”. Another bit of silence but you weren’t surprised. “Can we do that thing mortals do? You know, when they hug and say they love each other before they go their own way? Or maybe just the ‘I love you’ part”. He looked at you for a bit and you were about to apologize for making it weird and leave but Ares stood up. 

 You stood up.

 It’s strange how something you’ve never done before can feel so right. Like it was always meant to happen or always supposed to be this way. You weren’t necessarily cold and Ares wasn’t a heater, but the second he wrapped his arms around you and you did the same for him, you felt much warmer. Not a burden type of warmth. The kind of warmth that brings you relief on a freezing cold day. That crushing feeling stayed the same though.

 “I love you dad” you said and it fell out so naturally, you’d forgive anyone for thinking this was a normal occurrence. That the fight you had was just a small disagreement but otherwise you two had an amazing relationship.

 You didn’t know how the words “I love you too” would sound coming out of his mouth, but it sounded better than you hoped for. It once again sounded natural and genuine even if you knew it wasn’t. 

 You thought it wasn’t.

 No. You knew it wasn’t. This was no time for brain tricks and delusions. 

 Pulling apart was probably the hardest thing you had to do and your job was keeping Percy Jackson safe. That sudden coldness fell over you again and the crushing got worse.

 It didn’t get any better when you left. You didn’t have the guts to look at him one last time, afraid you’d call off your deal right then and there if you made eye contact with him. 

 Luckily Sally was an intelligent person. She was smart enough not to ask how it went. Even if she did, it’s not like you could answer with the huge lump in your throat. 

 “Do you want ice cream dear?”.

 You shrugged. There was that word again. Want. You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. You thought you did but it all felt wrong. There was no weight lifted off your shoulders and you didn’t feel light on your feet. You felt cold and hollow. The weight got worse and pushed down on you with so much force, you didn’t know it was even possible. 

 Then your eyes landed on his bike and it all came out. Your head fell into your hands and you let out sobs that were lodged deep in your chest. Your ears were ringing and you were sure you looked and sounded like the most pathetic person alive but you couldn’t care anymore. Sally, once again being an intelligent woman, took that as a sign it was time to go and pulled off. You assumed Sally would’ve dropped Percy off after you went inside. You assumed he wouldn’t wanna wait out here for you while you talked to one of the people that hated him the most. His hand patted your shoulder, notifying you that he was in the car still. Usually you’d make a joke and tell them that you were fine, but nothing came out but borderline hysterical sobs. 

 You grew jealous of Percy. He didn’t see Poseidon much but at least he knew deep down that Poseidon cared for him. Sometimes you’d get that feeling but you thought it was all a delusion. Fuck. Why did you keep doing that? You knew it was all a delusion. 

 That choice had to be the right one. It needed to be the right one.

 That didn’t stop this wave of agony from drowning you, and you’d fight a thousand harpies if it meant this feeling would go away.

Omg y’all I did it😭. I mixed two ideas someone suggested with my own ideas and here we are. I hope y’all like it even though a huge portion is me yapping but to be fair I didn’t realize until after I was done and summarizing all of that didn’t seem like it’d sound right, yk? There was definitely a way I could’ve done it but I’m stupid soooo… yeah. Anyway, OOC Ares but this is my angsty fantasy so I’m making him care about his kids. In my head the whole “I hate my own kids” is him trying to convince himself he doesn’t care for them so it’s easier to stay apart from them. Idk, maybe I’ll make a part 3 from his perspective and answer why he said he was saving their life. I make no promises tho. And I know I said it’s show Ares so skipping ahead doesn’t make sense but we know what’s gonna happen Taglist: @kyuupidwrites @chadmeeksmartinswifey @lebguardians @beansficreblogs (one asked to be tagged, one asked for more dad fics, then one commented plus reblogged and one reblogged, so although majority did not ask, imma just assume y’all would wanna see a part 2😀. We’re getting the band back together like this is Phineas and Ferb)

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[crackinglamb]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fallout (TV 2024) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Cooper Howard | The Ghoul/Lucy MacLean Characters: Original Male Character(s), Cooper Howard | The Ghoul, Lucy MacLean, CX404 | Dogmeat (Fallout TV), Norm MacLean Additional Tags: POV Outsider, Future Fic, Post-Canon, Grumpy/Sunshine Power Couple, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, (not by them), Implied Sexual Content, Discussion of Artificial Insemination and Mortality, This Poor Bounty Gets Dragged Along While Lucy and Cooper Argue About Retirement, that's the fic, Happy Ending Series: Part 5 of A Vessel For Light Summary:

Being caught by them wasn’t anything to scoff at. But it also wasn’t anything like he expected.

 Beta'd by Iron_Angel.

---

He barely felt the dart hit his exposed neck, but he certainly felt the wooziness that came from it. He turned, dizzy and flailing, to see the pair of hunters approaching, still paying him no mind but steadily getting closer now that he couldn’t run.  The last thing he knew was the satisfied smile on That Vaultie, while the Ghoul looked at her with exasperation.

“See,” she said, pointing in Clive’s direction.  At least he thought so, it was hard to tell with everything spinning around him and growing dark.  “We didn’t have to take his foot off.  The order says ‘whole and intact’, remember?”

“Fine, darlin’.  Well, I still got my chase, I guess.  Let’s bundle’im up.”

And then Clive knew no more.

[anonymous-winter]

pick your furry awakening Spanish edition/j

[inafieldofdaisies]

The Company You Keep (2023-) | Season 1, Episode 1 | on Hulu | Favorite scenes (vol.1)

/ Honestly, I'm so hyped about this show, the premise is promising (con-man meeting and falling in love with an undercover agent) and I love the chemistry between Charlie and Emma.

[theoldsoulsclub]

English teacher: “ What’s a euphemism?”

My Brain: “ ‘Putting up a shelf’ “

😉

[nyasialiveshere]

Exo Kai: Due West

heavily opinionated semi long post

Inspired by a genius post I saw on twt iykyk, I didn't wanna bother them they seemed stressed.

topic: Is Kai promoting in English and doing Western promotion activities pandering for Western validation?

(because he clearly never pandered to anyone before ever in the history of ever...it never happened... seriously. I don't believe he knows what pandering is actually.)

Simple Fact: TECHNICALLY..yes

Question: Is that a bad thing?

Opinion: It depends

Clarification : By western do you mean American? And by pandering do you actually mean worshipping Eurocentricity and it's machine of capitalism? That is a slippery topic, technically most kpop idols, such as Kai, are already modeling for European brands and not Asian or African etc. Plus they have fans constantly brag about said sponsorships that they do. Plus South Koreans and far east asians are top consumers of european luxury brands

so anti colonialism is an odd arguement to stand behind with a kpop pfp but okay.

Opinion: Look, If you have a precise plan and goal for promoting in America, creating a better bond with foreign audiences, expressing creativity, working with more diverse creatives, and touring in multiple different states and/or countries, solidify the artist's place in the realm of popular music while having a more freeing time doing it... I don't get the problem with an artist like Kai promoting in America. It cannot intensify the issue of Kpop artists seeming like they are pandering to the euro-colonial powers, because it's already looking pretty bad tbh.

The real issue: Freedom. The reality is when someone dynamic, attractive, and full of life has freedom, obviously they are going to meet new people, make friends, and develop in personality. The real issue is whether fans who have had an artist as a cute little toy for years.

Are they ready to find out what his real personality is when he is given freedom. The reality is that despite dating clauses not technically existing after a few years post-debut, people do not actually expect them to talk about crushes, who they find attractive, or publicly state their attraction towards someone. Personally, I believe what K-pop fans expect, which is virtual silence except when being cute, charming, funny, or flirtatious and/or childlike asexual behavior, except if it is for audience consumption, this teeters on a slave owner mindset and is very gross. A person who calls themself a K-pop idol cannot publicly date like a regular artist.

I mean, they can, but not in a traditional way. Kai and Krystal technically dated for 2 years, and they couldn't mention one another's name publicly during that entire time.

They didn't even go near one another in public after it was revealed not even at smtown's. But at least people had a magazine shoot as proof they even knew one another.

Jennie and Kai weren't event at the same event since the dating scandal happened years ago, not an award show, or any other public event. If anything a dating scandal just means the person will enter a crackdown and be forced to be more present with fans to make up for what they lost.

It is extremely normalized in Korean culture that males and females try not to even make eye contact lest it be thought of that they did something.

For this reason it's incredibly easy for fans to say it is nonexistent. This is a pretty good summary of what happened.

The accepted narrative anyway. Sadly to combat the 'negative press' of dating publicly, fans go harder on the shipping, the overs#xualization, and the unfunny jokes to move the conversation away from their dating news. Taking the fandom further and further away from reality.

Yet, at the same time since people don't see 99 percent of the artist they obsess over's life and the entire 1 percent is scripted, they don't know how these people truly act or behave, or really anything about them. So to overcompensate other parts of their personality and minor things are overblown and hyperfocused on. Praise and worship take the place of actual critical thought.

Regardless of the opinion of whether it matters to every individual supporter or not, it still had actual effects on his career. To this day his support is stronger overseas. I believe this is in conjunction to the 2 dating scandals and his appearance. Which is a whole nother thing, but with this in mind a western audience, especially one that is less likely to bash for a simple dating scandal would be a smart choice.

To the people who have a don't ask don't tell policy when it comes to artists, but just don't want the artists to date publicly to protect them, what do they know, do they even look into the analysis how when properly leveraged a relationship could be good for business and not bad. I hesitate to believe fans whenever they say they don't care if their fave dates or not anyway. Like of course you don't care, because they will continue to play their role of a perfect idol content with fanservice.

I would say it's fine, but it really isn't, even in japan idol culture there is room for growth and evolution inside the mold. They gradually moved their idol culture over to the acting scene so now the youth are somewhat used to seeing public figures dating openly, it may be a surprise but I wouldn't classify it as a scandal.

Personally, I believe if they can push kpop idols towards acting and movies, then similar to japan it wouldn't become this crazy thing and artists can be young and married without it being a frenzy.

(p.s weloveyoukento) It's not exactly perfect but it is changing for the better.

In japan the mold is forever being molded and shifted to where it needs to be, whereas in kpop it seems to be stuck in stasis with the conveyer belt model continuing.

With the art clearly showing what fans deny, that each idol group is contained and perfected to the fans whims and desires.

Understandably people want privacy in relationships, but the privacy is mostly due to their careers being built on the whims of the fans.

To be fair all boy bands historically have done this. Whether that means wearing outfits that only teen girls like, or dancing uniformly to upbeat tunes for hours on end. It isn't just kpop that stretched people to the limit and covered up their originality.

Regardless of the location, race, or culture/ethnicity of said boy band this was all true, but in Kpop there is a specific desire to control the entire person as a product and as a human and this is something the fans are willing to ignore to recieve whatever fanservice they want.

Nobody cares who their local restaraunt owner or store employee dates, because they don't go to the store for them they go for the product, BUT in K-pop the artists are the product, the emotional relationship with fans is apart of the deal. Therefore they feel almost a sense of surrealness when thinking about them in a public relationship. Personally, I believe even western people struggle with having an odd fascination with who a person does or does not date, but again this is because people craft an image that makes it unbelivable if they go against it.

Whether it's a fake relationship or a real one, the point is that with either you would expect something like a conversation or a small mention during an interview, but typically Kpop stars are not allowed to do such a thing, ever. That is just how it is in K-pop. Whether the fans are native Korean or foreigner fans, much of the same behavior is expected. No one can say they have seen an artist's real personality. It isn't possible. Nearly everything is scripted.

In some cases, like Taemin's, they didn't even know their actual personalities.

They can go out and do things for fun, but it is expected that whatever they do not be noticeable to fans. Everything is expected to be hidden or undercover to be respectful of the fans. Because the artists are firstly marketed as boyfriends and girlfriends for the fans. Regardless of how it is spun, this is the marketing promotion; otherwise, suggestive music videos wouldn't really be necessary, nor would high-five events of ...fansigns.

I don't want to act like K-pop invented this.

It did not

or pretend that it is even the most extreme version of marketing love to strangers out of an exotic curiosity;

because it isn't. This has been happening for ages, but I will say that kpop has this unique hold where evolution doesn't exist. Since the 1990s I think kpop has gone backwards, before it was normal for idols girlfriends to leave the performance venues with them.

Now if a girlfriend posts something on her social that even implies they are together it is cause for fans to burn merch and say rude and innapropriate things online out of vendicated anger.

Even having a boyfriend or close male friend can invoke the ire of fans who have crafted an idol's desires to their imaginations, even if they themselves have no interest in them.

So if they do something unexpected like date a man, even though they "hate men" people have full blown meltdowns and delete their accounts out of embarrassment.

I've seen it happen to so many people. They refuse to accept a possibility and when it happens they loose it.

I know that people have sensitivities about Kpop people becoming more free, and honestly I think it's for the best. I do not think people want the ownership that fans feel to grow even more. They need more open and honest interviews, less objectfication and more laying out the facts instead of fans being so bored they hyperfixate on fake gossip to the point of it being more real than reality.

But no seriously all jokes aside, please somebody explain to Kai what pandering to an audience means. Doing things specifically to appeal to others whims and desires that you as a grown adult person probably don't want to do, but you must because of dinero, guap or cash money. Cause clearly he is just a giant stuffed animal and he has no ideal how it works, how anything at all works actually, he just dresses like this on stage because..I mean like what else would he wear, duh! How could he be expected to pander to the euro-colonial-objectifying axis of evil...

He's like..never even done that before....

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

Pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fingering, p in v, no mentions of protection (wrap it!), breeding, self pleasure (Rafe)

꥟꥟꥟

You had come over to hang out with Rafe. You both haven’t seen each other since yesterday since college was busy for you both. Rafe needed his daily dose of you, so he spammed texted you to sleepover.

So here you were, lying in his bed. Wearing just his old football jersey and a pair of Calvin Kline underwear. You laid in his bed watching tv. Rafe was playing cod with the guys. His headset on but one ear off just in case you wanted to chat or needed anything. He sat in his gaming chair at his desk. His eyes glued to the monitor, but occasionally glanced over to you.

You watched the tv on his wall, enjoying the company and finding it funny how the boys talk in chat.

You felt drowsy, your eyelids felt heavier each blink. You moved your head into the pillow more, turning over to lay on your stomach as you went to sleep.

Rafe glanced over to you as he heard you shift around in bed. His eyes raked over you. Seeing the jersey had rode up resting on your kid back. Showing off one of his favourite things about you, your ass. He could stare at it all day if he could. His hands on it most of the time. But it was the fact that you laid in his bed. Tangled up in the covers, wearing his jersey. Looking peaceful and relaxed, that made him hard in his sweatpants.

He groaned as he looked down at his sweats, seeing the newly formed tent. He didn’t bother putting on boxers as he had only just got out of the shower and just wanted to throw something on. Besides he does it most of the time when he lounges around.

He turned his attention back to the game. Trying to calm down the hard on in his sweats. But he can’t help but look over to you every so often. He couldn’t do anything about it yet. You were asleep. And he wasn’t the type to do such things without you knowing. He knew better.

He moved his right hand over his bulge. His controller in his left hand. The guys and himself were in the lobby of the game. Some of the guys either going to the bathroom or getting snacks. He quickly muted himself.

Moving his hand into his boxers, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Stroking the long length of his as he thought about you sat on top of him on his gaming chair. Like you have many times.

He just couldn’t budge it. Not even his hand was helping anymore. He had enough. He was going to climb into bed and sleep it off. He quickly made an excuse for him to end the game with the guys. He logged off and turned his ps5 off.

He climbed into bed beside you. Pulling you close to him. Letting out a long sigh, he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

He soon fell asleep. Then to be only woken up at two in the morning. He groaned to himself when he felt his hips subconsciously grid against your side.

He was tried, so were you. But he had to get rid of it. And he’d know you’d most def would help him.

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. Then whispering in his deep husky tired voice “baby… need you to wake up f’me…”

You turned over, rubbing your eye “hm?”

He grinned softly “c’mon… I need some help… you looked so good in my jersey earlier… I couldn’t shift it…” he pressed his hard on against your hip to show you.

You resting your forehead against his lips “but ‘m tired, Rafey…” “I know, I know, could you just stay awake? I’ll do all the work… just relaxed and help me out, yeah?” God his voice did things to you no one could ever explain. His raspy along with the deep mess of the accent and his overall tone. Sent shivers down your spine.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your lips, then your neck. Gently turning you over and lifting your right thigh up more. He moved his hand along your side and down to your entrance.

His palm against you, already feeling your underwear to be damp. He smirked lazily “that’s my girl…” he moved his hand in slow, lazy circles.

You moaned softly, he pulled your underwear to the side. Moving his middle finger inside of you. He lazily pushed it in and out. Curling his finger every other time. You pushed your ass back into his hard on. Causing him to groan and rock his hips into you.

He slipped his ring finger into you next. Prepping you for him. Causing you to tiredly rock your hips against his hand.

He pulled his fingers away and move his hand into his sweats. He then tugged his sweats down just enough to let his cock out. He was hung. No doubt about it. All the girls in college would die to get what you got most nights. But you took it all the way each time. Nothing like the girls he had in the past. Nothing compares to you.

He ran his tip along your slit, gently pushing it inside. Causing you to moan softly. He went in, inch by inch.

He moved his hand to your jaw. Holding it and turn your head enough so he could kiss you. As he would lazily and slowly thrust in and out of you.

You liked this side of him. Most of the time you both were rough or loud. This was quiet and relaxing for a change.

He bit your bottom lip gently as he pulls away a little. He looked into your eyes with pure lust. His lips brushing against yours as he mumbled “so fucking tight f’me… best fucking pussy, all mine, baby, yeah? All mine…love it so much” you moaned softly. Looking into his eyes with tiredness and attraction. God the look you’re giving him right now drove him insane.

He kept moving his large length in you. He moved a little so he was on top of you more. Getting a better angle and also going deeper in you. Causing you to moan a little louder. He moved his left hand next to your head in the bed, stabilising himself. As his right went under the jersey and over your breast. Massaging your breast as he rest his forehead on the side of your head. He breathing heavy and ragged.

He felt you tighten around him, causing him to groan lowly “fuuuccckk…”

He picked up his pace, you were about to moan when he shoved his hand over your mouth gently. He whispered “gotta stay quiet, baby, I don’t want the guys hearing how good I make you feel… don’t wanna wake em up now, yeah?” You nodded.

As you feel your climax approaching, Rafe smirked. Knowing your body inside and out. He knew you were close. He picked up his pace more. The room filled with heavy breathing and cheek smacking.

Your jaw slackens as you tighten around him and finish. He groans “thaaatss it, come all over my cock, yeah? Mhm fuck, so hot…”

He moved his mouth to your ear “want me to come in ya? Want it, baby? I know you do, tell me, do you?” You nodded “yes, Rafey, want you too… so bad, please…” he smirked.

Feeling himself finishing in you was amazing. Knowing it was him that made you feel this good and him being the one to finish in you, was a dream to him.

He stayed there for a moment. Giving you a ‘thank you’ kiss. He mumbled against your cheek “thank you for helping, babe… did so good f’me… I’ll treat you in the morning, you don’t have class till the afternoon… I’ll eat you out all morning, hm? Wanna do it so bad, been craving you…”

You nodded eagerly, one of your favourite things he does was just that.

He gently pulled out, watching his seed go down your thigh. He grabbed some tissues on the side of his bed and wiped it. Knowing you’d probably not want to sleep with it all over you.

Tossing the tissue into the trash can. He laid back beside you. Pulling on his sweats again. And wrapping his arms around your waist. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall back asleep.

And best believe he kept his word for the next morning.

꥟꥟꥟

[elizzsush]

Fae Courting Rituals | TWST

Diasomnia Dorm X Reader

Lilia X Reader, Sebek X Reader, Malleus X Reader, Silver X Reader

---- Fae are typically taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 3/3)

Note: Was going To add silver to this list. (I know he isn't a fae, but he was raised by one) but was too tired to write for him)

Savanaclaw Ver. | Octavinelle Ver

Sebek:

He starts following you around for some reason.

Seriously, one day he just woke up and decided to not leave you alone. It helped that you guys shared a bundle of classes together.

You had no clue how you befriended the green hair boy. You weren't complaining though, in this school, where everyone is so set in their ways, you liked having the extra layer of protection that was the loud half fae: Sebek.

He was loud and denies it however, whenever you point out he follows you. He claims to not having even realized he was doing such a thing. "I would never follow around a mere human!" He shouted out his claims with a red face.

It could be true. He did get somewhat spacy sometimes if you'd believe it.

He had a packed schedule, or so he claimed, yet he always found time to be around you. It made a warm feeling blossom in your chest, well, of course before he used this time to rant about Malleus. "Wakasama is the most kind and fit ruler of-" He'd ramble, you'd sigh; put your face in your hand and lean a bit closer to him. You enjoyed hearing him so passionate, even if it was... constant.

He didn't have an off switch, that didn't have to be a bad thing.

Plush, you didn't hate his voice. Not that you'd be as loud about your likes as he was for his.

Though you were pretty positive your friends... and most of the students at NRC were in fact sick of his voice. People have also noticed he is more vocal around you.

Which is… a good thing?

The oddest thing happened once. At one point when the two of you were relaxing in ramshackle. A bag of popcorn and a shitty TV you got on sale at Sam's shop. He wasn't being loud for once in his life, instead his attention was focused on the screen.

You two were sitting pretty close together when, he had grabbed your hand and laid his head on yours. Was he... cuddling you?

You couldn't help but smile and continue to watch the movie. You didn't want to comment on it, you knew if you did, he'd probably get up, make a huge deal out of it (with a red face), and leave.

He started rubbing his forehead against yours before he finally pulled away like it never happened. It was oddly affectionate.

You didn't even think he knew that he was doing it.

He began to do these affectionate things while he was focused on something else. Either it be a show at the movie nights you organized with him, or if he was studying a bit to hard with you.

Your friends wondered how you even managed a movie night with the loud boy but you just shrugged.

Eventually, you had to face it: You really like Sebek.

You really liked this brash boy with a thick skull.

You knew however, even if he did like you back. He'd never admit it, let alone go out with you.

It left you with this odd feeling. A dull pain that ranged from a small ache to feeling like Throns were wrapping around your heart, piercing the organ in your chest.

You tried not to let that get you too down. Instead, you watched him across the lunchroom as subconsciously he blew bubbles into his drink, his green eyes finding yours...

So yes, you'd listen to his rants. You'd go out of your way to hang out with him, you'd enjoy his company while you could.

Because you knew, sooner or later, he'd realize it too. The same reality you had to face. And...

well...

He wouldn't face it.

He'd probably turn you away and never speak to you again. And you'd be fine with that. Even if you didn't want to be because you...

Well, let's save that for another day.. "Hey Sebek, lets hang out!"

"I suppose I can make time for you, Human!"

Lilia:

He was out to get you.

You noticed it. Almost everybody noticed it. You just didn't know what you did to him! He'd pop up everywhere and scare you! Right before disappearing away.

This counted as bullying, right?

You were starting to get... slightly paranoid.

You enjoyed Lilia's company, you really did. But you were tired of constantly looking over your shoulder. So, you started to avoid him, just a bit.

Your own personal revenge for the paranoia.

Now, Lilia has lived a long life. He knows what he's doing and is just having fun. He liked you, he did, but he probably isn't going to be that serious about this. He's in it for the vibes.

So when he see's you avoiding him... he well... He serenades you from outside ramshackle.

He makes his intentions very clear with a love song!

A boombox in Sebek's hand, and a tired Silver who followed along because... well Lilia was making Sebek hold a bomb box and traveling in your direction.

Lilia song his heart out for you. "Everybody loves somebody sometime!~ And although my dream was-"

"It is 2am!! The perfect will go out with you tomorrow!" Grim shouted out the window with a grogy done with it tone. After you threw a pillow at them.

NOTE: Sorry this one is short but I have a hard time writing for Lilia

Malleus:

What do you mean? You started courting him first. Very brave of you indeed child of man. He had even commented on it while you handed a piece of treasure!

That was... well, it was a cheap polished rock. It was well... shiny...?

It started very small. He accepted your gift and was expecting a bit more to be honest. Not even he was exactly sure how this courting would work out; he was prepared to be the one to pursue you!

Initially, he sat back and relaxed. Enjoyed the small sense of harmony you two already had and assumed you guys were dating.

Why would he not? He accepted your courting gift, he assumed their were more to come, the next step up to this would be marriage and he wasn’t sure you were ready for that.

However, you noticed this. You were so confused. He’d began to call you “beloved.” Which was a 180.

When did you two…? Huh??

He’s also been more clingy. Not on the sense he’d follow you around but in the sense of a mountain of handwritten letters and the actual sense that he’s in your personal space when you two do hang out.

So… the two of you are just dating now? “Beloved, you haven’t been responding to my letters. Did I do something?”

“Oh, sorry I just haven’t… quite finished all of them.” You glanced at a room that was empty at one time. Now it held a pile of letters.

This was an exaggeration, they’re were a lot but not a whole room full… yet.

Extra??? Silver:

It started like most seedlings of love, with a dream. A simple one, you were sat beside him, the two of you quiet and happy in each others company. The birds sang as you hummed beside him. The boy was content, more so then he had been in his life.

Then, like it was second nature to both of you. You two shared a kiss, and then he woke up.

Usually, he tried not to lose himself to sleep. But tonight all he wanted was to go back to the dream world and hold you. As soon as the realization crossed his mind however, he woke up even more. Had he ever been this awake? “Am I in love…?”

He, not knowing what to do. Went to Lilia, whom was enthusiastic with this news.

You know when parents find out their four year old has a crush? That’s Lilia, except Silver isn’t four. Every time they see you Lilia shoos Silver off too hang out with you. Sadly, with no prior love life to speak of, silver goes along with it.

Though he is embarrassed about it, he hides it well enough.

“Does Lilia think you like me?” You asked all to happily once, hiding your own happiness behind a giggle at the absurd situation he found himself in.

“Uh, yeah…” he’d just smile at you, his head laying on the lunch table as he was about to go to sleep. he loved to see you laugh even if it was somewhat at his expense. However, Sleep tends to escape him when he was near you. Not that he didn’t feel tired, but he didn’t feel as tired. He couldn’t feel angry about it, in fact he was happy about this. It was like you were some temporary cures for his illness.

Lilia would also insist that Silver gift you things. To show he can provide for you, the Silver hair male couldn’t disagree. So, he’d find things that might fancy you.

His bird and squirrel friends also helped him in his venture to gain your affection. Often leaving flowers at your doorstep and small shiny things.

One day you saw the birds and Squirrels run up to your doorstep, one flower at a time, make a gorgeous bouquet.

You made sure to thank him and his animal friends after that.

In return you'd try and make things for him, find things around he or the animals would like. Nuts for squirrels, seeds for the birds, and a deep red rose you plucked from Heartslabyul during the end of an unbirthday party.

He stayed awake for longer than he ever had that night, staring up at the rose in the dark while his dormmate slept. A smile on his lips as he examined every detail of it.

Ace would call it cheesy. The relationship between the two of you was something out of a romance movie he'd say in a more teasing way. Something like, "Is it Tuesday or Wednesday he's going to chase after you to an airport?" and then roll his eyes. You tell Ace to shut up while looking away with a face as red as riddle's hair.

It was after a test, you pulled your test paper out of your bag ready to check your score after preparing for disappointment when a blue bird swopped down and took it!

You cursed and chased after the bird, rushing past students and looking crazy, eventually you ended up in the forest next to the school.

You were sure you looked ever crazier than you had been running in the school halls, because now you had leaves in your hair, and your shoes were all muddy now...

Eventually, the birds placed the test paper, face down on a certain boy's chest. "Silver... Are you asleep?" You smiled and knelt beside him, a small smile on your face. Rolling your eyes at the perpetually sleeping boy. You sat beside him for a moment taking a deep breath before you grabbed your test.

You almost preferred it this way, to have him here, even if he wasn't fully here. It helped your nerves somewhat. An even bigger smile graced your face as you turned the paper, and a large B was printed at the top.

Standing up, you gifted your friend a small kiss on his forehead and wandered off back to school.

Well, you were stopped by a small, sleepy voice. "Y/N...?"

___________________________

Note: It was this or clean my depression room... Anyway, I want to expand on Sebek's small scenario because I know if it was its own imagine I could make it really good.

Would ya'll enjoy that...?

ANYWAY, these small series is competed! (Unless...?) Thank you for reading them and thanks for reading the note. Not a lot of people do that. Myself included.

I have a hard time writing for Diasomnia...

[joeloverture]

deadfall | enemy!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: dad’s enemy!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel miller, rival raiders with your father, is the last person you expect to save you from the group that captured you. he’s also the last person you expect to sleep with. [post outbreak] warnings: (mdni) canon typical violence (stalkers, mentions of death), porn with plot, game or tv joel, reader born before the outbreak, reader has a present/loving father figure (HAH), alternate universe — joel never went to boston, implied age gap but how big is up to you, self indulgent humor, quicksand, explicit smut, reader is a biiiit of a peeping tom, close proximity, only one bed, (brief) accidental somnophilia so dubcon, dry humping, degradation, humiliation, mirror sex, unprotected piv (he’s snipped dw), doggy style, manhandling (he fucks you in a headlock), mild breath play & choking, brief hair pulling (reader has hair!), scratching/biting, brief orgasm denial, hatefuck [no use of y/n] word count: 9.5k author's note: pwplot! a joeloverture first. also my first foray into somno! and post!ob joel! lots of firsts here. special thanks to @joelsdagger for taking a glimpse at this for me (and for being the PIONEER that forged joel fucking in a headlock) and @lovesickonmybed for being the best sounding board ever. i hope y'all like this one, i sure do.

There are no infected in the swamp — not this far out. They prefer the slant of buildings or the maw of split pavement. Blood-bloated leeches and black-trunked cypresses aren’t their domain.

You can’t say you blame them. One day in, and you’re already sick of this shit.

A few gnats have flown up your nostrils as you wade through the ankle-deep sludge. Mist curls at the edges of your vision. Your feet keep slipping on the slime covered stones that are half-submerged in the deep. Sweat crystallizes on your nape as your toe catches on a downed branch.

Before you faceplant in the sludge below, a burly hand snags your collar and hauls you up. “You always this much of a klutz?” It’s the first few words he’s said to you in hours.

A scowl buckles your lips. You shove Joel Miller’s arm off your back, splashing up scummy water as you step over the branch this time. You say nothing — don’t even dignify him with a passing glance.

“You’re a real peach, ain’t ya?” Joel says. When he takes his next step, water splashes at the backs of your calves. “Save your ass and this is the thanks I get.”

Joel Miller doesn’t want thanks. Up until he accidentally burnt his thumb with boiling hot coffee yesterday, you’d been convinced he didn’t feel anything at all. As long as his pulse is woven between bullets and stab wounds, he doesn’t give a damn what happens to those around him. His heart, much like the rest of the people at the end of the world, is calcified. Only beating out of necessity.

You’re silent as you footslog forward. The slurp of mud stretches between your shoe and the ground. Your pack jostles against your back. The ache in your bones has proven to be a better company than Joel – at least that is tolerable.

A deadfall lays flat ahead, a tree with cambered branches that droop with moss. Joel cups a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and squints past.

You go to walk past him, around the deadfall.

“Nuh uh,” Joel tugs you back by the scruff. You grunt. “‘S deeper out there. I’d sure like to see you get swallowed up by a gator, but that doesn’t work for me, kid.”

It sure works for you. If you see one of their bumpy snouts protruding out of the water, you’re using him as bait.

You don’t say that, though. Just hitch your foot up over one of the branches in the tree and start to haul yourself up. It’s a nagging ordeal – full of hissing through your teeth and feeling wood tear small cuts into your skin. Your hand tangles in an unoccupied spiderweb before you toss yourself through the other side of the bramble. Water sluices around you as you right yourself, rubbing a bead of blood from one of your knuckles.

Joel’s quick to follow, even quicker to take front again. You’ve learned he likes being ahead of you — unless you’re climbing a ledge or a fallen oak.

The hours wear on. You refuse to be the first to call it for the day. Even when you get stinging salt water into your open cuts, you grin and bear it. When the sun lounges on the chaise of the tree-sketch horizon, he drops his pack on an island of mulch that’s nestled in a grove of dead vegetation. 

You slump down next to him, rifling through your pack for a bite of jerky. Joel’s knees pop. He grunts as he slips down into the dirt and unrolls his sleeping bag. He rolls over, facing away from you. Hand wrapped around his gun like it’s a lover. 

When you do the same, it’s with a barbed insult on your tongue that’s better left unspoken.

At the end of the world, everything is ruleless. But you grew up with exactly one rule: don’t talk about Joel Miller.

You hadn’t been expecting him to kill you.

The Cockroaches, the lesser raider group in Northeast Texas, had captured you. Apparently your dad had some unpaid debts, and in taking you as leverage, they’d intended to get close to him. All they got were bullets in their heads.

You’d sighed in relief when the hatch to your basement confinement had finally opened. A spillage of sun sliced down through the opening, and you were expecting the familiar warmth of your father, an apology, and reassurance that he wouldn’t let them take you again.

Instead, you got Joel. With his hulking gun, broad figure that blocked out the sun, and the scowl that would be the last thing you’d ever see.

You had fumbled against the post you were tied to, feet scrabbling against the floor. You’d winced away when he raised his knife. “Don’t–”

…And cut into your restraints.

You’d rubbed the chafing from your wrists and stared at him, nebulous and delirious. “Get the fuck away from me,” you’d croaked.

“They touch you?” he’d asked. You’d shaken your head. “Hurt ya?” Another shake.

“Good. Now get up and get ready to haul ass.” He turned around, but not before throwing his knife to the ground next to you. The clatter it made against the concrete made your ears ring.

You grabbed the knife.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask him. They’re the only words you’ve spoken since you’d seen him in the cellar. 

“I ain’t,” he says. His voice is gruff. Sandpapery. 

“Looks like helping,” you say, nodding at the pack he’d given you. He’d come out prepared. To get you.

“Your daddy ain’t the only one with debts,” he says.

You stop, booted feet sinking into the mud. Shit. “So that’s what this is. You take me away just to hand me off to some other shitty group?”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. He turns around, already mid-stride.

You yank his knife out of your pocket and dive at him.

“Hey, hey, fuck – you little brat,” he spats. He goes off balance before he twists around. You corral him against a tree, leg hitching around his waist as you knee at his thighs, aiming for his crotch. His spittle sprays your cheek as he grunts. His fist wraps around your hand, and the knife splats into the mud. His booted heel slips and he goes sliding back as he shoves you away, hard. You cough as you slam into a tree trunk. The knot that swells out of the bark digs into your head. You drag a branch up off the ground, pushing yourself off the tree as you heft it.

Before you grab it, he slaps you. Hard. Your head goes spinning as you stumble back into the muck. He jams his boot down against your chest, mud smearing across your tank top. “I gotta tie you up, or you gonna fuckin’ listen to me?”

You reach up to grab his ankle, and he just stomps harder against your chest. You wheeze, flopping back in the sludge. “B-bastard,” you hiss.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the hell up. ‘S your dad’s shitty group I’m talkin’ about.”

You give him an incredulous look.

“Your old man ain’t the only one with a coupla debts under his belt.”

“You’re shitting me,” you say. Voice squished in your throat from his tread against your chest.

He shakes his head and finally lets his boot up. You suck in a breath, another cough rattling your ribcage. “Quit being all uppity and pickin’ fights ya can’t win if you wanna learn, dumbass.”

“Why didn’t he just come get me himself?” you grit out as you lean back against a log. You use it to lift yourself, legs feeling gelatinous from being shoved about.

“You didn’t see? Cockroach shot ‘im in the leg.” Your lips tremble, but you straighten them. “He’s fine.”

You scowl. “And you didn’t tell me this sooner?” You march forward. Your arms cross solidly over your chest.

“Figured you wouldn’t take it well.” He looks you up and down. “And I was right.”

You curse under your breath. Dip to grab your knife. Toss it in your hand while you think. You don’t flinch when it slightly nicks your thumb — it’s hardly a poke with all of the scraping you’ve been doing through undergrowth — but Joel smirks. 

He sees you as juvenile. The product of a world that you haven’t earned the right to be in, always cowering behind your dad’s back. 

You’ll prove him wrong.

“How far are we from the nearest city?” you ask. You want to go home. Your arms ache not just from swinging at your side or lifting you up toppled trees, but to wrap around your father. Your bones protest at the thought of being in your skin. Your tank top sticks to your flesh with mud and the parasites that squirm in it.

“I’m not a goddamn fortune teller,” Joel says. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then we better get moving.” You readjust your pack and jostle him as you march on.

Three days later, and there’s no end in sight to the swamp. Whatever towns you’ve encountered are home to only a derelict gas station and ransacked mom-and-pop stores. They’re no place for pit stops.

You (reluctantly) stay close to Joel, who you’re lucky to hear so much as a murmur out of. Most of the time, he’s redirecting you, tugging you out of the way of half-decade old hunter’s traps or reminding you not to go too far.

“The world isn’t gonna end if I step out of your imaginary line, Joel,” you say. You test your foot on the side of the bank you’re walking on. Nothing happens.

“Ki–” Joel says, brows crunched up.

“See? Fine.” You press more of your weight into the ground. He reaches for you, but your body tilts.

Your foot is sinking.

“You’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass,” Joel says. He pinches his nose bridge. “Shoulda left ya down there.”

You glare at him, bending yourself at the waist so you can try to wiggle yourself with your upper body strength. Your free knee is propped up on the squishy ground. You grunt, palms slipping against the oily, grass-filled mud. “I got it,” you rasp out as he crouches in front of you.

“Uh huh,” he says, frowning pointedly.

“I got it.” You slap his hand away and thresh your leg in the sand. It barely even wiggles. “Fuck.” You strain your leg, huffing and puffing. Dirt fixes itself under your nails.

Joel wraps his arms under your shoulders and you flail in protest. “I said I can handle it!” Instead of listening to you, he tugs at you like pulling a toy from a dog. You keep windmilling your arms.

“Quit thrashin’!” Joel yells. “Any harder and you’re gonna drag me in with you.”

Your face is too close to his. Too close for the uncomfortable heat. His humid breath fans against your sweat-slippery cheek as he groans. Your foot loosens. You prop your calf up on his thigh as he wrests you out of the quicksand. You’re chest-to-chest with him as you tip over the muck, dropping flat against him. “Mmph.”

Joel shoves you off of him, and you fall on your ass in the mud. By all odds, your boot has remained strapped to your foot. He’s already up and moving when he says, “Jesus Christ, you are just like your fuckin’ dad.”

The mud still caked into your shirt has started to flake by the time you reach a city called Monroe. Just off of I-20, you and Joel trek further into what you imagine must’ve been a medium-sized city during its heyday.

You’re bone-weary. Your back keeps popping with every step with how you keep having to sleep on the ground. You’d be thankful for even a mattress of moss — but luckily, you won’t have to settle. Sunset is nearing, which means you can see the blue water (imagine that, blue water) tainted pink and orange below. Houses and the city clocktower reflect into the gentle pull and ebb of the tide.

Joel nods at a half-bent blue roadway sign. “YMCA up ahead,” he says. He wipes the sweat off his brow and clutches his gun closer to his side. “Stay close.”

You keep your hand around the grip of your knife, following him into the city.

It’s quiet as you navigate through a labyrinth of abandoned, rust-gutted cars. At one point, you manage to slip ahead of him, and he allows it for long enough (fifteen seconds) that you opt to take a shortcut through a parking garage. You climb over the edge and dip inside, feet scraping over roots that have grown between concrete slabs. The shade is a brief respite from the scorching sun, but the humidity still wrings the sweat from your pores.

Joel slips ahead of you again, taking long, dragging strides that look as exhausted as you feel. Four days of hiking through swamp and gunk and slapping mosquitoes against your skin has made you grateful to just be walking on solid ground again. Joel steps past a busted, sticker-covered van.

A streak flickers against the dark canopy of the garage. “Infected!” you shout, but Joel falls back on his ass.

His gun flies out of his hand and skids across the concrete. He grunts, shuffling backward, but the stalker’s already on him, its mouth sewn partially shut by fungi. It croaks and slashes at him, blind left eye battering and twitching. Joel throws a hooked punch, but the stalker takes the opportunity to grapple him, snarling in his face.

He’s going to get bit.

You launch forward, knife in-hand. You fling yourself into a tumble with the stalker, legs strewn over Joel’s. Adrenaline plummets through your body. You stomp on its shin and it shrieks. The knife almost slips from your grip as you start to stab blindly. You thrust the blade up through its eye socket.

The thing cackles and caws, its vocal chords clacking with mold and rot. Rusted blood trickles from its nose and down your wrist as you twist the blade further until you meet bone and then whatever is left of a brain is beyond it. You cringe as you drag the knife out and wipe it across your pants. It slumps back in a mound and then falls over.

Your chest heaves as you look between Joel and the stalker. His hands are scraped up as he grabs his gun.

You extend him a hand. He seems to think about it for a second before latching onto you and letting you help him up. He grunts in acknowledgment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

This YMCA in particular isn’t like the others you’ve stopped at with your dad. Instead of glass windows and tin roofs, it’s brick and mortar. You and Joel climb in through the window, and you almost sob in relief when you see at least a dozen oversized yoga mats. That’s a suitable homemade mattress, you think. 

There’s a basketball court whose court has been warped and fossilized by the leaks in the roof. A peek of sunset dives in through a hole, lighting up the western side of the room. You expect the pool room to still smell of chlorine. It’s a little weird when it doesn’t even though the pool’s been drained for years, you imagine. From there, you two reach the showers.

Before you let yourself get excited, Joel fiddles with the knobs. Water sprays out of it. “Still hot,” he says, absorbed in the droplets that are spraying his hand. He turns it off.

“Fuck it,” you say, tearing your tank top over your head.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Joel says, turning to face the wall.

“You aren’t the one who’s covered in mud!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I ain’t the one who went jumpin’ into quicksand. I also ain’t the one who deserved an ass whooping.”

You glare at his shoulder blades as you unzip your jeans, fumbling out of them. They’re nearly crunchy with the amount of mud you’ve been traipsing through. “They did charity drives at these things, right?” You never really went to any YMCAs before the world went to shit. “Maybe they’ve got clean clothes.”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you turned this place into a strip club.” You roll your eyes and hook your bra on the shower curtain, followed by your panties.

“I didn’t know you were a prude, Miller,” you say.

He bristles at the accusation. “Maybe I should get an eyeful. Being ‘round you is like wishin’ the Lord would strike me down.”

You laugh. Joel made you laugh. First (and only) time, probably. 

“Yeah, right, you’d get struck down for something a whole lot worse before he started getting mad at you for peeping.”

You fiddle with the shower curtain and step in. There’s old body wash in an automatic dispenser on the wall. It doesn’t work, but it’s easy to wrangle open and squeeze the pouch into your hand. The grout is odd under your bare feet, but quickly becomes familiar as you twist the lever. Water spits down at you, and a satisfied sound leaves you. “Fuuuck,” you sigh. “This is nice.”

Joel clears his throat. “I’m gonna go look for clothes. And deodorant.”

“You should shower too,” you say instead.

You can almost hear the face he makes.

“God, don’t be so much of a Holy Joe, Joel. It’s practical. This water isn’t going to last that damn long, and I am not taking a cold shower when the hot stuff is all right here.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” he says like he hasn’t already told you.

Eventually, you hear his belt unbuckle.

He strips down a lot quicker than you. Habit, maybe, you think. His jeans slump against the floor, and then he’s in the shower. You hear the other faucet come on as the water warms against your skin. You sigh, lathering yourself with the Dollar General body wash. It forms iridescent bubbles along your body, and it smells faintly like artificial strawberries. You wonder if it ever used to smell stronger than this.

There’s a slit in Joel’s shower that exists between the curtain and the wall. You should look away, but you shouldn’t have plunged your foot into quicksand, either. There’s many things you shouldn’t do that you take it upon yourself to do anyway.

So you watch the dirty water cascade down his sharp, scarred shoulder. You eye how the gnarl of his bone adjusts as he lathers himself with soapsuds. He stretches to get his hair and his bicep tenses with the movement. He’s built, and built well. From years of survival, trekking through swamps not so different from these, and aiming guns in places he wanted to and places he didn’t. The way the sun flits through the rectangular windows makes him look golden.

You imagine how it’d feel to walk up behind him, to massage the knots out of his sore muscles. You don’t even notice it, but your hands are traveling your own body now, fingertips going to pluck at your pebbled nipples. He’d been rough when tussling with you in the swamp. Would he be rough with you in bed, too? In your mind, you run soft, open-mouthed kisses down his back, reaching your hand between his legs to wrap around his—

A clanging noise stops your hand in its tracks. You drop it limp at your side. A wave of revulsion crawls like insects up your back.

“Shit!” Joel says, fumbling around in his shower stall.

The plastic body wash dispenser goes sliding out under the curtain, foamy with soapsuds.

You can’t help it. You snort. And eventually, your snort becomes full-fledged laughter, breaking the seam of your lips as you lean against the wall of the shower.

“Shut up,” he says, but you hear the tinge of a chuckle embedded between his vowels. You hear his half-huff of laughter before you force yourself to stop giggling.

You two stay under the shower streams until the water runs cold and bitter and all of the mud that had banded around your limbs is congealed in the drain. 

You leave the showers first, roaming around until you find a discarded cardboard box that’s brimming with clothes in your size. There’s jeans that should do well in the elements and another tank top suited for the crushing heat. 

When you’re dressed, you call out to Joel that you’ll be in the yoga room. You spend the down time arranging the yoga mats into two separate mattresses. Joel’s feet will hang off a bit, but you imagine it’ll be better than sleeping on the floor.

Footsteps scrape from the doorway, and your head snaps up.

Joel Miller cleans up nice, it seems. He’s kept his boots, but apart from that, looks like a completely different person; his jeans now hug his hips tighter, his raggedy tee from earlier has been replaced with a form-fitting ribbed tank top. Any traces of mud, sweat, or gunk have been washed off his skin and down the drain. His hair hangs in wet stripes, sticking to his crinkled forehead.

You haven’t realized you’ve zone out until he’s waving a calloused hand in front of your face. “Hey, peach, anyone home?”

You clear your throat and replace it with a scowl. “Don’t call me that.” It’s deflection, and you know it. You think he knows it, too.

He gives you a funny look. “Uh huh,” he says. He taps his fingers along his hip bone. “Well, what the fuck are ya doin’?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Setting up camp…?”

“This is a shit camp to set up,” he says. “Stalkers in the parking garage, city I ain’t ever been in before? No, we need a vantage point.”

“And I assume you have one in mind?” you ask.

“Yeah, I do. ‘S a hotel, ‘lil further into town. Got three floors, we probably can block the stairwell from the inside to keep any raiders out.”

You nod and heft your backpack over your shoulder. It’s bulging from the extra clothes you’d stuffed into the bottom, and your arms are sore from the wrangling you’d given it after the collar of one of your new shirts jammed the zipper. 

Joel turns to stand guard at the door while you collect your stuff. You can’t seem to focus much on that, though, not with his ass practically at your eye level. The tighter denim definitely does him favors. You swallow the newfound lump in your throat and stuff your water flash into the side of your pack.

It has to be the lack of human connection. It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen anyone other than your captors, and the majority of this week since you’ve seen anyone other than Joel. Joel, who with every word, breath, movement, flinch, gets a rise out of you. Joel, who stirs the pot with you at every chance he gets. Joel, who almost certainly looks at you and sees a reflection of your father whom he hates.

He’d said so, early on.

This isn’t only one-sided. It’s a living, breathing disaster.

“‘S a hotel’ my ass, Joel, this place looks like a loaf of moldy bread.”

Joel insists on staying on the third floor. Says that the second floor is ‘too low’ and that being on the third floor poses a good choke point for any raiders or infected who might stumble upon your camp. He wants to ‘bottleneck’ any intruders, whatever the fuck that means.

The issue with the third floor? There’s mold. Everywhere. In the days after the outbreak, a leak must’ve happened somewhere in the pipes that bled through the ceiling and all over the top floor. None of the rooms you’ve checked have been left unscathed so far. It’s embedded into the rugs, the walls, the ceiling, all of it. At least it’s a good deterrent for the people that pass through. The infected, however? You have a feeling they’d be just at home.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” he says through his teeth. He pinches his nose bridge – he does that a lot, or maybe you just stress him out a lot – and glares at you.

“No, Joel. I’m fucking exhausted,” you hiss. “I’ve been roughing it with you all week, all you do is give me shit. The only thing this voyage of ours has taught me is that my dad has perfectly ample reason to hate your guts.” You’re closer to him now, knocking him back with your fist to your chest.

“Quit bein’ cute,” he scowls. “I’m the only reason your ass isn’t eyeball-deep in quicksand.”

“Yeah, and you’d be stalker food without me. So I guess we’re even, aren’t we, Joel?” You shove past him. “I’m just a way for you to pay off your stupid ‘debts’ anyway,” you mutter under your breath. He wasn’t protecting you, pulling you out of that damn pit. He was saving his own skin.

The hotel room door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar. You lift your knife just in case, and step inside. 

It’s lacking the mold that the rest of the rooms have. People have definitely stayed in here before, what with the rumpled blankets left on the bed and a flashlight situated upright on the dresser. The thick layer of dust on the flashlight tells you that they never came back.

The room itself is satisfactory enough. Beige, almost green walls, close in at all sides. A cloudy mirror is hung by the window. Moonlight stipples the room. There’s a busted, corded phone on the nightstand that’s propped up on a Bible, a shattered nightlight, and a small table. You toss your pack onto the quilted bedspread and collapse onto the mattress. For an old, creaking thing with a busted spring or two, it’s still the most comfortable thing you think you’ve ever felt in your life. You sigh in relief and nuzzle into the pillow.

Joel clears his throat from the doorway.

“Find your own room, dipshit,” you say, nudging your pack off your bed with your knee. It thunks against the floor.

“I don’t think so.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m not sharing with you. You snore.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.”

You don’t have to look up to know he’s doing that thing where he pinches his nose bridge again. “You’re a fuckin’ piece ‘a work, kid, you know that?” You hear his pack drop against the ground. He drags a chair across the room and you cringe at how it squeals against the floor until he jams it under the doorknob. Then, the mattress dips.

You look at him sideways. “Get off my bed.”

“‘Your’ bed? You just discovered it two seconds ago.”

“Finders keepers.”

“Well I’m takin’ it from you. Losers weepers.”

You grit your teeth so hard you hear the bone scraping bone in your ears. 

“That’s now how this works–”

“We’re even now. You don’t wanna owe me one, and I sure as hell don’t wanna owe you one. So roll your ass over, act like an adult, and go to bed.”

You grouse under your breath, but with Joel, you have to pick and choose your battles. So you roll back over and wiggle yourself under the quilt, tucking your face into the musty pillow underneath you.

You sit in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at how the moon spills milky light along the alabaster ceiling. Then, you roll over again, stretching out the knicks in your back. Despite being the comfiest you’ve been in days, you’re feeling restless. You know Joel wouldn’t hurt you in any substantial way – you’re a bargaining chip to him. Nothing less, and certainly not anything more.

In spite of that, you find yourself drifting off with your face to him.

When Joel first wakes up, he thinks a clicker’s gnawing at his leg

Blinking the crust from his eyes, he realizes nothing’s gnawing on him at all. 

Rather, it’s you.

In your sleep, you’ve thrown your leg over his thigh. Your crotch is angled up against the bulk of his leg, a furnace that sears him through his jeans. Your head has dipped, forehead overheated and angled against the crux of his neck. If it were just that, he’d roll you over (maybe hard enough for you to crash on the floor) and hog the blankets for himself.

But you’re thrusting your fucking hips into him, letting out sleepy little whimpers while you fuck yourself on his leg. That explains why you’ve been acting dumber than a box of rocks. He oughta tan your hide for this. Bitching at him all week and really, you just need to get dicked down. Ironic, ain’t it.

He should still shove you off the bed. Call you a whore and leave you to rub your pussy raw in the bathroom instead of on his leg.

You give a particularly hard thrust, a keening little sound catching in the netting of your teeth. He swears you’re soaking through the denim.

He bites his tongue. The moonlight accentuates your closed eyes, your lashes fan out across your cheeks, there’s a cute little pinch in your lips as you unwittingly try to muffle the sounds coming out of you.

He can’t help himself. He raises his knuckles to your cheek and taps, taps, taps at the bone until your eyes startle open.

When you first wake up, you think you’re dying.

There’s a shortness of breath in your lungs. You feel like you’re being burned alive, your skin hot to the touch. You’re mummified in the crusty, flaky hotel sheets. Each intake of breath is musty and clings to your nostrils. You’re throbbing. Between the legs and elsewhere. Confusion puckers your brows. There’s slick between your legs — and Joel’s leg between your legs.

You tear away from him, making a disgruntled noise as the sheets tangle around your legs. His hand is raised to your face. There’s a moment where all you register is the judgmental squint in his dark eyes.

“What the fuck– you pervert,” you hiss, slapping him across the chest. A queasiness squiggles in your stomach as you inch your way back.

“Oh, no, peach. That was all you,” he drawls. He wraps his thick hand around your hipbone and pulls you back. You kick him in the shin, but there’s no real force behind it.

“Y-you’re lying,” you snarl. But a brief look at his lap tells you he’s not. He’s barely touting a semi, yet you’ve got the entire Mississippi River in your YMCA-issued panties.

Joel shakes his head at you. “‘S why you been actin’ up, you little shit? Just needed to get fucked?” He grips your hip so hard that it stings and hauls you against him. You tell yourself that the moan you let out is more of a hiss.

“I don’t– you’re making shit up, old man,” you say, squirming in his grip. You can’t help the way your hips sway at the tease of friction his knee gives you. You feel lightheaded, a freshly kindled bonfire.

“Am I?” Another squeeze to your hip. “Don’t look like it.” He notches his knee tighter against your swollen cunt, and your head dips forward as you bite into your lower lip. “Look’s like I’ve got a ‘lil slut more worked up than a hornets’ nest that spent all night rubbing her needy fuckin’ pussy on my leg.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine.

“Jus’ say the word, peach. I’ll do ya real good. Make that ache go away.” He rubs his thumb in a circle along your skin. The calloused pad of his thumb slips underneath the hem of your tank top, a lit match dragging along your skin.

“I don’t think you have it in you, Miller,” you say. But your voice gives you away. It’s breathy, coarsened by your sleep-stained, lust-stained rasp.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t think you had it in you to be humpin’ this ‘old man’s’ leg, but ya learn something new everyday.” He doesn’t grind his knee into your cunt — more so wedges it up. Pain blurs a watercolor line with pleasure as your back arches. His hand drifts from your midriff to your thigh, arm hooking around it so he can heft you up against his thigh proper. You grunt as you end up chest to chest with him. Your hips rock into his, guided by the North Star of his hands clutching at your hips. “Can feel ya,” he says. “Drippin’ all over me.”

You grind your teeth, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He groans as your nails claw at the skin there. “Shut the fuck up so I can pretend you’re someone else.”

He chuckles. “You can play pretend all you want, but I’m the one you’re soaking, ain’t I?”

You make an aggravated sound. Your left hand drags down his arm, leaving angry red tracks in their wake. Before he can gripe about it, you slap your right hand over his mouth. His eyes flare. Eye for an eye, his teeth sink into the flesh of your palm. You hiss at the sting. It only makes you pump your hips against him faster. The friction of your shorts and panties against the bulk of his leg and the wrinkle of his denim jeans makes your clit twitch against him.

Your flesh stretches as you tug it from his teeth. Your hand plants itself in his hair instead, dragging his head to the side. His eyes flutter, lidded and dark. “Don’t act like you don’t damn near cream yourself when I talk to you like this. You like being told what a nasty. Fuckin’. Slut. You are. Don’t look at me like that. You are. Been cruisin’ for a bruisin’ this whole time — just didn’t know you were after a pussy beating instead of a real one.”

Your eyes roll back. Your hips roll more languidly, only jerking when Joel gives a particularly brutal tug at your waist. You let out a pathetic moan into his neck. You nip at the skin there, tongue laving over the scars and blemishes he’s collected over the years. He reaches down and grabs a handful of your ass, groaning. “Too pretty to be actin’ a fool, baby.”

You dig your teeth into his neck, hard enough to leave cavernous bite marks in your wake. Your tongue digs through the craters your teeth left behind, saliva pulling from your lips to his skin. He smacks your ass hard enough for your hips to jerk, and you almost glare at him as you separate from your throat. Instead, your eyes squeeze shut.

“Don’t wanna look at me, do ya peach? Mmmm, well thas’ okay.” He fists his hand in the roots of your hair and tugs your head to the side. You hear Joel groping at the nightstand in the dark, and then the flashlight ticks on.

Your eyes blink open to yourself reflected in desilvered glass. Mirror rot surrounds your luminescent face, but most of all, you can see your hips and how they rock shallowly into Joel’s leg. “Watch yourself fuckin’ yourself stupid on my leg,” he croons in your ear. When you go still, his thumbs press hard into your skin. You stare at him. “You already fucked yourself stupid or somethin’? ‘S a simple instruction, sweet cheeks.”

“That’s dumb, Joel–” you sneer, going to look away.

He jerks your head back to where he had it and rocks his leg into your clit. You watch your face contort around a ragged moan. Pleasure thrashes through your system. “C’mon, you’re a dirty girl. Watch how pathetic you look while you get yourself off. Pretend I’m your pillow if you have to, but it ain’t gonna change how I’m the one gettin’ you off like this.”

Your thighs clamp around his. He smirks at you in the mirror. Your knee grazes his bulge, and a breathy moan loosens from his lips. “Two way street, Miller,” you say. But you’re weak — and so, so wet.

You give your hips a languid roll, watching yourself in the mirror. You’re a mess, mouth parted, eyes lidded, skin slick with sweat. Your hips shudder and start against him as you start to properly buck yourself against the meat of his thigh. With the shelves of your teeth, you try to smother the depraved noises coming out of you. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Gonna wake the fuckin’ dead with all that whining of yours.” Mid-moan, Joel shoves two fingers into your mouth and pries your jaw open. His fingers are bulky and ridged with callouses against your tongue. His thumb presses a dent into your jaw. “‘S okay, baby. I like ‘em loud.”

“I like you shutting the fuck up,” you say around a mouthful of his knuckles. You can’t help it. You bite at his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to sting. He hisses and presses down on your tongue. You make a sputtering noise.

“You were sayin’?” he asks, tensing his thigh. You whimper against his fingertips. He tightens his grip on your hair, and in the mirror, you see yourself bared raw for him to see in all ways but the physical. You rut into his leg with increasing need.

“Mmmph, Joel–” you say around his fingers. 

“Oh, now you’re moaning my name? What was it I said? Cruisin’ for a bruisin’, peach.”

Wetness leaks down the insides of your thighs. Your swollen clit hitches on a wrinkle in his jeans. You’re shaking, thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around him. Your fingers grapple for purchase and find some anchored in his hair, tugging wildly. You eye yourself in that damn mirror, the way your chest is slotted against his, how your hips pitch into his over and over again in your pursuit of release.

“Ask for it, baby.” Joel grinds his leg up into your cunt. “You wanna come on me, you gotta ask for it.”

You shake your head wildly. You aren’t a beggar — especially not for Joel Miller. You’d rather throw yourself back into quicksand. Jump in front of a clicker. Step on an alligator.

Joel pouts mockingly at you. “Stubborn for a slut who’s willin’ to spread it open all hours ‘a the day.” You rub your knee into his bulge, tenting his jeans, in hopes that it’ll be a suitable distraction. He groans, knee jerking. His thigh rams against you, and your back arches. You see your brows pucker in your reflection, your hips undulating against him.

“F-fuck,” you whine out, bouncing against him.

“You wanna come, don’t you, peach?” You nod frantically. “Wanna soak me, huh?” At that, you grit your teeth and snarl at him. You do you do you do. But you don’t want to admit it.

You squirm on his leg, desperately rocking into him. You dig your feet into the creaking mattress, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Tremors wrack your body as you work yourself on him. Your cunt flutters, and you almost taste your orgasm.

Joel tosses you off of him.

“You son of a–” you shriek, thrashing and out of breath. Your clit throbs and your hole twitches at the stolen promise of release. You bounce on the mattress, sprawled on your back and twitching.

“I told ya,” he says. “Gotta ask for it.”

“I’m not asking you for shit, asshole–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll change your tune when I stuff your right full.” He grabs you by the back of your shirt and coaxes you into spinning around. He yanks you onto all fours, forehead meeting the mattress.

You back your hips up as he reaches around your shorts for the button. The zipper squeals as it comes down and he shuffles them down your legs. He nudges your knees apart. You can feel his bulge, insistent and pressed against the back of your thigh. He grips the inside of your thigh, fingers sliding through the slick that’s there.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “No wonder you were humpin’ me. Just needing someone to take away that ache, don’t you? Jus’ a horny girl wanting to go cock dumb.” His fingers graze over your clit, barely even a brush, and you let out a mangled sound into the comforter. “See? So desperate and sensitive. You’re cute when you’re not a pain in the ass.”

“That makes one of us,” you say.

Joel snorts. “She’s got jokes.” He rubs a circle into your clit, and then another, and all you can do is rock your hips into his hand. Impatient, you brace yourself on your elbow so you can reach behind him and fumble with his belt buckle. Joel laughs under his breath, working at the zipper while you undo the buckle. It chimes as his belt falls loose and his pants slump on his hips. You work the button open. 

You wriggle your hand into his briefs and pull him out, giving him a series of quick pumps. Joel grunts. “Just like that, peach. Fuck, yeah, you know what you’re doin’.”

He teases the tips of his fingers at your entrance. Razor sharp want slices up the insides of your warm thighs as you clench and drip more of your wetness along his hand. “I’ll throw you a bone,” Joel says. Then, with no warning, he slips a finger into your warmth and curls it just right. You claw against the sheets, whimpering.

“Nasty thing.” He hooks his finger and you fully mewl. Heat rushes into your cheeks. “Barely gotta do anythin’ to get you writhing and wanting.”

Warm tears brim at your eyes from the heady, deadly mix of arousal and hatred. Your cunt tightens around his finger, and without warning, he pushes another one in, twisting and hooking them brutally inside of you.

Your fingers fist in the sheets, temple pressed into the mattress. You can see the cocksure look on his face in the mirror, the way his forearm flexes with each thrust into you. “Fuck me already,” you spit. You know it’ll hurt if he fucks you without really preparing you. You want it to hurt. You want it to ache like the tread of his boot stamped on your chest. You want it to sting and simmer like the cuts that the wetlands left in a collage across your arms and legs. You want him to split you open and leave you flayed by your own pleasure.

“Alright, alright,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. He gives your clit a light slap that makes you squeal. You almost black out when you see him bring his slick-stained fingers to his mouth and suck. “Yeah, taste as sweet as a peach, dontcha sugar? Such a tasty little cunt for such a smart-mouthed brat.”

You could cry with how bad you want hi— no, his cock. 

“Gonna hurt, baby. But you want it to, don’t you? Wanna feel me all up in here.” He roams his free hand across your stomach, then back around to your ass where he tugs you back. There’s the smack of flesh as your hips meet each other, the whimper between your netted teeth as he nestles his cock between your slippery folds. You nod, head slinging forward. “Don’t gotta tell me. I know ya do. Girl like you, always such a smartass. Yeah, you want it rough.” His voice is gruff, lust-addled. “Act stupid all you want, peach. I got you all figured out.”

He slots his head against your hole and you let out a strangled noise into the mattress. Your vision swims as he pushes into you, thumbs dug into your ass cheeks so he can watch how you take him. You mewl, back arching into and away from him at the same time. Your body can’t decide where to go. If it wants to be further, or as close as possible to him. Joal groans as he sinks into you.

“Tight as a fuckin’ hose pipe, peach,” he says. He reaches around to give your flick your clit — a move that makes your entire body spasm. 

“So about as small as your dick, then?” It’s bullshit — you know it, and he knows it. He’s not even fully inside of you, but the difference is startling. He’s stuffing you to the brim, leaving you to scrabble and claw against the sheets.

He slams into you, a blatant disregard of your comfort. You feel his balls smack against your clit, and hear the same thigh you’d been humping slot against your own. A ragged cry rips from your throat. “Joel,” you whimper, hips trying to writhe against the bed. “Joel, fuck—”

“Feels pretty big now, don’t it?” You whine, petulant, but it breaks off into a moan as he pulls back and then punches back into you.

All you can do is take it, take it, take it as he bashes your swollen cunt with his fat cock. You gasp raggedly, each snap of his hip bringing pleasure-pain tears to your eyes. Joel’s nails dig into the meat of your ass and yank you back on him. The sting is renewed, then, as he props his leg up on the bed and pounds into you. You whimper, helpless to his whims.

Between one thrust and the next, the bite in your cunt turns into a thrum of pleasure. A persistent swarm of heat and your own slick leaking down his cock. “Like I said,” Joel grunts as he fucks you. “A nasty fuckin’ slut with a sloppy ‘lil cunt.”

You whine, squeezing around him. Your head spins. “Fuck,” he spits.

“Joel, please, please, ple–”

“Quit beggin’, it ain’t ladylike.” You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach behind him, tugging his wrist away from your ass so you can slip his hand between your thighs. His pistoning into you falters. “What’d I say?” Joel grunts. His knees adjust over the backs of your calves to hold you down.

“Keep touching me,” you whine. “Please, you asked me to ask for it, so I’m fucking asking for it.”

“Told you to ask permission, not cry at me like a kicked puppy,” he says. “I call the shots here. Like it or not.” He goes to yank his hand away from your clit, but you yank at his knuckle.

Joel scowls, and so fast you might get vertigo, his other arm’s bicep locks around your neck and heaves you back against his chest. You sputter, drool pooling in your mouth. Your hands briefly tug at his arm, but fall limp when he says, “Oh, shut the fuck up, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Gotta keep you on your toes, peach.”

You arguably shouldn’t. But you trust him. Enough to keep you alive, at least.

With another thrust into the warm vise of your cunt, your body’s running hotter than an engine and twice as fast. He squeezes tight enough that your air is in short supply, and with it, everything is amplified. Pleasure crinkles through your body like crumpled aluminum foil, serrated and clinging to you. The crook of his elbow is warm, and you can’t help your head lolling back to give him a look that’s purely salacious. He tips his head down at you and smirks.

“Yeah, that’s my hungry little cockwhore,” he says. With his free hand, he tugs your hair. You seize around him, struggling for what to hang onto. You let out a rasping, strangled moan. With your head tipped back, you can see the tilt to his lips as he moans, feel his scruff scraping at your forehead. “Takin’ it like you were made for it. Shit.”

Joel moans as you clamp down around him again.

Tears might be sliding down your cheeks – you don’t know. You’re too trapped in this, in this moment, in the feeling of his cock slamming into your throbbing, aching cunt. “Mmph,” you whine low in your throat as he fucks up into you. He’s damn near bruising your cervix. Each thrust makes your cunt flitter around him. 

“You look good like this,” Joel grunts against your ear, using the leverage of his propped-up leg to bounce you on his cock. “All quiet ‘n sweet ‘n whorish. Goddamn, never thought a slut could feel this fuckin’ tight.”

Your eyes slip shut, vision spotting behind your eyelids. He keeps forcing himself into you. Making room. Making a mark that you’ll never forget he carved into you.

Your body is limp as he gets himself off, his hand moving from your hair. He gropes at your tits, flicking your nipple in a way that draws a sloping moan out of you. He slides it down your side, each callous bumping against your skin until he reaches your clit. You nod wildly, and he chuckles into the shell of your ear. “You think you’ve earned it? All you’ve been doing is whinin’ like a little bitch, baby.” He taps his fingers against your clit, once, twice, mounting the tautness of the tension drawn tight like elastic through your body. You gasp down air as he ever so slightly loosens his grip around your neck. He keeps thrusting into you, jerking tiny moans out of you as he does.

Your legs tremble. Your brain feels like mush. You wring his cock with each strain of your pussy. “I don’t want you,” you gasp out between thrusts. “I want you for what you can — fuck — give me. So I guess… that makes… us even. Doesn’t it?” Joel’s finger stills where it hovers over your clit, and you almost don’t notice the falter in his hips with how subtle it is.

“Yeah,” Joel pants. “Guess it does, peach.”

He presses his thumb down on your clit and the whole world makes sense.

You cry out as your juices soak his cock, dripping down his balls and thighs. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant in between moans. He’s holding you up now by the underside of one of your arms, his fingers toying with your nipples. Each touch sends laser hot electricity between your legs.

He slams up into you again and you shriek. “Fuck, you’re a mess,” Joel says. “All stuffed full ‘a me… yeah, that’s how you’re s’posed to be. Sprayin’ your pussy juices all over me while I ram my cock into this drippy little hole.”

You whine, clit twitching against his finger. Tears burn at the edges of your eyes like fire on parchment. “I wanna come,” you whisper, voice tinged with need. “Please, Joel. I–”

“Who do you want to make you come?” he asks as he rolls his hips up into you. An undulating pace that makes you want to scream.

The curdling pleasure in your stomach brims, stews, steeps. You’re drowning in it, in the fire lashing through your body. Fire that he lit and stoked and now, only he can put out. “You, Joel!” you cry out. “You! I want you to make me come, please, I need it, I want t-”

“I got you, peach,” he says. He mashes the pad of his thumb against your swollen nub, rubbing circles, circles, circles. You scream this time, head slumping against him. “Throbbin’ for it,” he growls out. “All swollen and whinin’ like you’re in heat. You needed this. Needed me.”

“I needed you,” you nod, exhaling. You think you’d agree to anything he said right now. “Fuck,” you wail. Your hands anchor themselves on his forearm.

“Don’t fight it, baby, don’t fight it,” he coos. Your nails scratch angry red tracks down his burly arms. “Come on me, see if it gives you an attitude adjustment.”

To your chagrin, that does it.

Your orgasm shatters you. You’re fragile as it tears through your body, tying knots around your racing heart and making your legs quiver. You feel yourself gush around Joel’s cock, gasping for air as your lungs empty. Your cunt flutters around him as pleasured tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Everything’s hot and melting, your arousal dripping out of you in droves. Joel rubs at your clit through it, coaxing in your ear, “That’s it, theeeeere it is. Shit, baby, I’m comin’— squeezin’ me so damn good—”

Joel twitches inside of you, and you whine at his absence when he pulls out just in time. With a throaty, reverberating groan, he sprays the small of your back with his cum. You gasp as it splashes against you, your chest heaving against his hand. 

You sit in the silence, high off of the come down, panting in delirium. 

Joel clears his throat. “You alright, peach?”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me now that we’ve had sex, Joel,” you say. “I get it. We fucked. We got it out of our systems. Hooray. Do you want me to pop some confetti poppers?”

“I was being courteous, goddamn,” he grunts as he stands up. You watch as he tugs his jeans back up. “Clearly ain’t nobody ever treated you gentlemanly before.”

“Says the man who got off on choking me out.”

He shoots back, “The feeling was mutual, if I remember five minutes ago correctly. I ain’t that old.” He buckles his belt up. As he redresses, you toss your own shorts off to the side. He’s already been in your whole pussy — you’d rather not sleep in the denim shorts.

When you’re done, you give him a look.

He pinches his nose bridge and sighs through his teeth. “We oughta hit the hay. Long day ahead. And you should be too exhausted by now to be wakin’ me up again.”

You clench your fists at your side. “Fine.”

You reach for his flashlight and turn it off.

Reunion Tower is the first building you see.

Dallas. Home sweet home, for better or worse.

The skyline slowly eases up and out of the treeline as you and Joel meander up the car-cluttered I-20. Remnants from a life that’s long gone, all but skeletons with the organs of another time.

You and Joel have scarcely talked. Mostly, it’s just him pointing out directions. But he does other things. He helps you through wreckage or rubble instead of leaving you to muscle through on your own. He gives you part of his rations. He tosses you a magazine he finds in a store. He keeps watch.

You had meant what you said. You fucked. That was that. He was still the man your father told ghost stories about. The thoughtless killer. The unforgiving bullet to a skull. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of peoples’ deliverance to the afterlife. The man who’d betrayed your father all those years ago, a story of which you only know the vague specifics of.

Maybe you’ll ask him while he’s on bedrest from that bullet wound. (Or maybe you’ll just ask him. He’s not the sort of man to stay down for long.)

Regardless, as you two cross the exit a couple blocks from your dad’s base, you ask him, “Do you think he sent people after me?”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Probably went up to Oklahoma instead. Louisiana ain’t famous for bein’ easy hikin’ material. Shocker that them Cockroaches brought you all the way out there.”

You nod and kick a rock with the toe of your shoe. “You think your group’s doing good on their own?”

“Who fuckin’ knows,” Joel says. “Left Tommy in charge of the place, I’ll be lucky if it ain’t burned down by now.”

“Well, you’ve got a whole new world ahead of you. Free of debts and all. Maybe my dad will finally get off your ass. Could skip town, if you wanted.”

Joel’s feet drag on the concrete. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he scratches the back of his neck. “There were never any debts, peach,” he says.

Your brows furrow as you stop in your tracks. “The fuck do y—”

“Got you of my own volition,” he says. “Your dad and I might be on shit terms, but that don’t mean I don’t care about him. I…” He pauses. “I know what it’s like to lose people.”

“Everyone does,” you say.

“Yeah,” Joel nods. He turns to make eye contact with you. “Everyone does. But I don’t exactly wanna go about losin’ you,” he says.

“That’s a bold claim, Miller,” you say.

“You’re good company. Even if you’re a shitass.” He pats you on the shoulder. His hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he gives it a squeeze before letting it drop. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you home.”

[nevvdrinksteaa]

PLEASE Spencer answering a work call in the middle of sex??? Super smutty

just wanna say that this is my first request and it makes me feel special so thank you !!! hopefully you like this <3

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn with small plot, afab reader, fingering, p in v sex, post prison spence, riding, doggy style, and missionary (yall were busy), spitting kink !!, spanking (once?), face slapping (i’m not sorry), slight oral (f receiving), lots of pet names (baby, angel, pretty girl), let me know if i missed anything !!

word count: 1.8k (got a little carried away)

also note to everyone- y’all absolutely devoured my spencer post the other day, a little less than 800 notes last i checked, and i just want to say i was very caught off guard and appreciate it so much !!

+ i apologize for the overuse of commas & very limited vocabulary,, i feel like i used the same 10 words smh

+ NOT PROOF READ !!

~~~

“i was able to talk to the brass about getting the week off. the past few weeks have been tough and i think we all need a well deserved break.”

you were all gathered in the round table room for a meeting emily called. in the past two weeks, the team had been assigned three back to back cases; which meant three different unsubs, three different cities, and three different hotel rooms. you hadn’t slept in your own bed in fifteen days, already feeling giddy at the thought of snuggling up in your bed, binge watching mindless reality tv, and fueling yourself with nothing but sweet treats.

matt was the first to speak, already standing up gathering his things from the table, “as much as i love you all i’m going to rush home to the wife and kids, i miss their little faces”

you all followed suit, collecting all of your belongings and saying your goodbyes, all of you raving about your week off plans. you walked to your desk, grabbing your bag and keys. you walked towards the elevator, pressing the down button, watching it slowly fall from floor 10 to floor 9, before tapping your foot, slightly agitated about how long it seemed to be taking.

you heard footsteps heading your way, small taps on sneakers on the slick marble floor, before felt a slight nudge at your side “you know, being mad at it won’t make it work any faster”

you chuckle looking up, making eye contact with spencer before giving him a small grin. “i’m just really ready to get home.”

the elevator doors open, spencer waved his hand up, allowing you to go first, before following you in and pressing the main lobby button. “you in such a rush because you have a hot date to get to?”

you looked up at him and grinned, you felt spencer’s hand move to your back, rubbing the center in small circles with your thumb. you felt your face get hot and you allowed yourself to slightly lean into his touch. the elevator stopped at the lobby, a small chime signaling the doors opening, and you felt spencer’s hand fall back to his side before you both stepped out of the box.

you both made your way to the parking garage, spencer walking you to your car before he headed towards the station to take the subway. you got to your car, unlocking it and throwing your purse inside before looking up at him with a slight smirk “text me when you’re on your way”

he shook his head and laughed as he gave you a small wave goodbye and headed towards the subway.

~~~

it had only been three days since you were given the week off, enjoying the company of spencer in your bed two thirds of those nights. he texted you the same night as the encounter in the parking garage, eager to see you in a private setting.

“look how pretty you look sitting on my cock”

you were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. he had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. you felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

“i love when you use me like this, getting yourself off like a good girl”

you couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. you felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew spencer’s shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. you felt one of spencer’s hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

he grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. you looked at him and grinned, fucked out and eager before you felt a sudden surge against your cheek before he let his hand rest there, rubbing his thumb to ease the pain.

“you gonna cum for me angel?”

“fuck- yes spence, i’m so- so close” you couldn’t even hear the words coming out of your mouth, your heartbeat beating so loud your hearing going out.

you moved your head down pushing your forehead to spencer’s with your eyes tight.

“cum for me baby, wanna feel you tighten around my cock.”

you felt that tight feeling in your stomach, the mix of his skilled fingers and his thick cock rubbing against your walls caused your breath to stop in your throat, your release making you see stars. you stopped your movement, breathing heavily as you leaned down into spencer. you felt soft kisses on your head and face, peppering you all over.

“did so good for me baby, love watching you use me”

you smiled against his neck, starting to do your own kissing. you felt his breath hitch when you found the sweet spot behind his ear, the small mole behind it always guiding you to the exact spot. you took your time, sucking and biting at the spot, grinding your hips, ready to keep going.

spencer gave your thigh a quick tap, before telling you to bend over. you were quick to roll over, propping yourself up on your hands and knees before slowly wiggling yourself back and forth to him.

you felt a sharp pain on your ass, a slight stinging feeling before you felt a tight grip run through your hair. you felt your body being pulled tightly to his, his chest flushed against your back. he moved one of his hands to your chest, a his fingers glazing your nipple, his other moving to your neck, pushing his thumb and middle finger to just the right spot to apply pressure.

“i let you use me, now it’s my turn to use you angel” spencer had leaned down to your ear, kissing your jaw before pushing you back down onto the bed.

spencer leaned down slightly, gripping your ass with both hands before spreading them. he let a trail of spit fall to your eager hole, before he rubbed it onto your pussy, giving your clit extra attention.

you moaned and pushed back into his touch before you felt him enter you quick and unforgiving, your ass jiggling with every move of his hips.

“fuck- so fucking deep” you arched your back, begging your body to somehow take him deeper. you felt his firm calloused hands rub against your back before settling into a position on your hips, his thumbs pressing small bruises into your skin.

“taking me so fuck-”

spencer’s voice was cut off by his phone ringing, vibrating on the nightstand beside you, and you felt his hips slow down, letting out a soft sigh as he was considering stopping completely.

you felt him hesitate but needed him to keep going, pushing your hips back into his trying to keep both of your focus.

“spence, please don’t stop” your voice still unsteady, “just ignore it”

spencer pulled out of you, and you let out a whine as the loss of contact. you rolled yourself over, making yourself comfortable on the pillows expecting him to walk away to return the call.

instead he leaned back over you and pulled you into a deep kiss, holding your face in both hands. your lips parting slightly when you felt his tongue lick your bottom lip, allowing your tongues to meet.

spencer grabbed his dick, rubbing over your clit before he lined himself up with you, gasping when he pushed himself in.

“you’re so fucking perfect angel”

he pulled away, lifting your legs up to your shoulders and latching his hands to your thighs. he found himself moving slow and deep, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him.

you moved your hands to play with your nipples, rolling the hard buds between your finger tips. he bent down, pushing his weight into you, almost like he was folding you. he pooled spit into his mouth before he let it go to your clit, moving his hand to the bundle of nerves.

“want you to cum again for me pretty girl, want one more before i fill you up”

you let out a moan, sighing before you went to speak “gonna fill me-”

you were cut off by the phone ringing again, the buzzing sound making you forget your thoughts. spencer dropped your thighs and leaned over before giving you a quick kiss before he reached over to grab phone.

“spencer do not answer that”

he moved his finger to his lips, making a shushing motion “it’s emily”

you rolled your eyes, ready to kick him out and finish yourself off before heading to bed when you felt him move again. he moved his hand to cover your mouth before answering the phone.

“doctor reid”

you felt yourself get wetter, the sound of your slick filling the room, your moan mumbled behind his hand. spencer’s motion was relentless, his pace quick and brutal, jabbing your sweet spot with every push.

“i thought we were getting the week off”

your leg was lifted up, making the angle even deeper and you felt your eyes roll back, out of pleasure or annoyance you couldn’t tell. there was no way you were getting called in.

“i can get a hold of her for you, i remember her mentioning something about having a date this week”

you grinned, giggling behind his hand before spencer moved the phone to hold it on his shoulder, letting his now free hand to move back down. he never took his eyes off you, holding a shit eating grin as he felt you squeezing him tighter, squirming at how close you were. you furrowed your brows and pinched your eyes shut.

“i’ll be there in an hour”

you heard the phone beep, signaling the call was disconnected. spencer moved his hand away from your mouth down to your neck, cursing as he heard you gasp.

“did so good for me pretty girl”

his hips stopped deep inside you as you felt his cock twitch, filling you up. he groaned as he felt you cumming again, keeping his thumb in place to help your orgasm finish and you let a loud moan out in response. spencer gave you a long kiss, nipping at your bottom lip before he trailed his lips down your neck. he pulled himself out of you, grinning at the soft sigh you let out. he kept his lips on your body, trailing them down your stomach before reaching your thighs and nipping at the sensitive skin.

he moved his tongue and licked a long strip up your pussy, sucking on your clit before pulling up to look at you, shit eating grin on his face. “we’ve got roughly 30 minutes, that’s enough time for me to help you clean up, right angel?”

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Deadpool and Wolverine might actually be the best love letter to Marvel that I’ve seen.

On a meta level, the movie feels like it was written in response to people dismissing the Marvel properties that aren’t the MCU. The MCU is the “Sacred Timeline” while everyone else gets thrown into the trash aka the Void. Wade even tried to become an Avenger because he feels that his life doesn’t matter. Then, Wade gets a chance to join the MCU. Of course, he’s thrilled, but is then told that the rest of his universe is getting destroyed since they lost its “anchor” (aka it lost its relevance). So, Wade decides to fight for his universe.

On a surface level, you can read this movie as a criticism of the MCU in that it’s treating the only stories worth a damn as the ones coming from that universe. But I don’t think that’s the case. I mean, first off, this was made by Marvel Studios. Feige and Co had to sign off on this and a great deal of the plot stems from the Loki show. Second, the movie felt more like it was trying to say that ALL Marvel stories matter. It’s not really criticizing the MCU, it’s criticizing how audiences view the Marvel movies/shows that aren’t the MCU. The “why should I care about this movie if it doesn’t lead to the next Avengers movie” attitude.

That’s why I say this was the best love letter to Marvel I’ve seen. It’s a celebration of the company’s works, both MCU and non-MCU. You can see that from the Easter eggs, the cameos, the nods to the fandom, and the emphasis on forgotten characters getting a chance at redemption. Even the jabs at the company and fanbase feel like they come from a place of love.

But what really sold me on this movie being a love letter to Marvel was the ending. Instead of a tease to a potential De4dpool movie, it was a montage of the development of the Fox Marvel movies (I can’t say X-Men since clips of the Fantastic Four were there). On one side, it’s a touching send-off to the Fox X-Men franchise. On the other side, it felt like a reminder of why people love Marvel to begin with. It’s these people - actors, writers, directors, producers - coming together to make these entertaining stories for us, to bring the comics to life on the big screen. It’s like Ryan Reynolds was telling us to take a step back from all the conspiracy theorizing, nitpicking, and fanbase drama for a couple of hours, that we should just enjoy this Marvel movie as it is.

And it worked. It was genuinely just a fun, awesome movie to watch. If we’re using the MCU-as-a-TV-show-analogy that people love using, Deadpool and Wolverine is the 100th episode that is made dedicated to the fans and celebrating the show as a whole. It’s a fanservice movie done right, one that goes beyond just references and cameos.