#which means I'm back on my bullshit. not that I ever left my bullshit. but we're so back 😌🔨💥

[pondslime]

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981)  dir. John Landis

[talaok]

Acting Normal

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javi’s been thinking about that night every minute of every day, while you're acting like it never even happened, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's gonna lose his mind.

warnings: smut| fingering, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being a simp, sex in the workplace, (it's not public but there's a possibility of getting caught)

a/n: I already know what to write for part 3, this couple is my new obsession lol

This is a part 2 to this story, but it can be read alone

Javi

This was really important stuff

He was really supposed to be listening

He was paid to listen to it,

that's what he kept repeating himself,

and yet- yet if someone asked him to repeat whatever Carillo was saying, he couldn't have spit out one singular word.

But it wasn't his fault, not really.

You must have been doing it on purpose, there was no way you were doing all that just accidentally.

Your lips were wrapped around the lollipop in a way that left nothing to the imagination- he could feel those lips on him, he knew how soft and sweet they were from kissing them, but around him... oh they would feel even sweeter, he was sure-

"If you're not gonna listen to me then why am I even here?"

It took Javier much too long to realize what Carillo had said

"I'm listening" he stated with enough confidence to fool anyone- except he was talking to one of the few people that could see right through his bullshit.

"I'm surprised you haven't done it yet" the Colonel shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke "I thought she would have given in by now"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Carillo couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been obsessed with her since she first arrived"

Javier hadn't even noticed that his gaze was back on you... or that his colleague had spoken again.

"yeah," Carillo chuckled, patting Javi's back "I'll just talk to Murphy"

And that was that, Carillo was gone, and Peña was left at a desk at the corner of the room, staring at you with the intensity with which a lion watches a gazelle.

He didn't know what the fuck to do.

To be completely honest with himself, he'd made a fucking mess.

He'd always been attracted to you, I mean there's not much of you that any man could find not hot, and sure, he'd spent about a year flirting with you as you rolled your eyes at him... but that's just how he was- he never thought it'd ever actually happen- and now...

Now he was fucked

You seemed so incredibly normal around him, like that night a week ago had been just a perfect dream, while him- fuck he couldn't even look at you without picturing how perfect you looked from between your tighs.

He'd thought he could manage to just do it that one time, to get it out of his system... what a stupid fucking bastard- he'd only made everything ten times worse.

And the worst part was that you didn't seem affected by it, not even a little bit- like now, there you were, looking all concentrated and everything, your brows furrowed, your bare legs crossed, one of them swinging ever so often, and your lips... your lips wrapped around the candy were an image sent straight from heaven.

Fuck- he was half fucking hard just by looking at you.

He needed to do something- now- or he was gonna go fucking crazy.

__ __ __

"can I have a talk with you for a moment?"

He was leaning over your desk, not doing a great job of masking his desire.

You, on the other hand, hadn't even looked up from the paper before you.

"what's up?"

what's up?

He'd made you squirt on your boss' desk for fuck's sake, and you tell him what's up??

"Just something I think you could help me out with, in the evidence room"

"now?" you winced, finally looking at him

"Yeah now"

__ __ __

"so what is it? did they misplace a file again-"

"How are you acting so normal?"

A gasp fled your mouth as you turned around and found him but an inch from you

"Jesus" you breathed "what are you talking about?"

"and who even eats lollipops past the age of five?"

He took a step closer and you took a step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

He'd cornered you.

"what is going on with you?" you hissed, only for him to take another slow step, and place his hand on the wall, right next to your head

"you, that's what's going on with me" his breath was fanning over your mouth, images of last week's night flashing both your minds "I've had the best sex of my life with you, and you're acting like it was just another Tuesday night"

"I-"

"I can still taste you on my tongue, I can still feel you around me, and you look at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking colleague y/n"

"Javier-"

"And then" he chuckled darkly, interrupting you once again "and then you have the nerve to suck on a fucking lollipop right in front me-"

A soft laugh couldn't help but bubble up your throat at that.

"Did that seriously... turn you on?"

"So what if it did?" he purred, his left hand finding your waist and forcing you off the wall and flush against him, against the blatant proof of his arousal.

You gasped, your hands clutching the shirt covering his chest.

"you're worse than a hormonal teenager"

His eyes sparked with malice as he bent down, his mouth skimming your mouth and cheeks, leaving shivers in his passage, until he pressed his lips right below your ear.

"A hormonal teen that made you squirt for the first time in your life"

"Javier-" your voice had already reduced to a thread of a whimper.

Fuck him and his irresistible sex appeal.

He was right, no one had ever made you feel as good as he had, and as much as he thought you weren't affected by that knowledge, he'd be shocked to find out how difficult it proved not to squirm every time he merely looked at you.

Yes, of course you were constantly thinking about that night too.

"Tell me you don't think about it"

He was like a mind reader

You stayed silent, conscious that any response you could give would inevitably give you away.

"That's what I thought" A snicker rumbled from his chest, his hand moving from your waist to slide underneath the hem of your skirt.

You hummed, your brain only half functioning as he continued to trail hot wet kisses down your throat.

"W-what are you doing?" you tried to speak normally without success.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" he smirked, his hand now fully cupping your clothed core, making you whine "What I've been thinking of doing for a whole damn week- so I don't lose my mind"

Two of his fingers were circling the wet spot on your panties when a phone rang from the other room, making your eyes snap open.

What the fuck were you doing?

You were at work- anyone could come in at any moment.

"Javier wait," you said, finally getting your voice back to normal.

"what is it, sweetheart?" from the way his eyes were still a thousand shades darker and blatantly staring at your mouth you could have guessed the danger of being caught didn't trouble him one bit.

"We can't"

He groaned frustratedly then, his head falling between your neck and shoulder

"why not sweetheart?"

"are you serious?" a quick laugh bubbled up your throat "we're at work"

"so?"

"so?" you parroted, only your voice was heightening with exasperation "so anyone could catch us at any given moment"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips, the hand that was still on your wall going to your waist to get you flush against him

"Are you ashamed of me sweetheart?" he teased

"Well, to be completely honest having sex with the biggest slut in Columbia isn't exactly my highest moment"

He feigned a gasp, his hot breath fanning over your own parted mouth

"Me? A slut?"

"yeah, you" You couldn't fight the smile pulling at your lips.

There he was, doing it again- making all your common sense fly out the window with his godforsaken charm.

"c'mon baby, I'll be quick"

And although you didn't want to, you could see yourself starting to consider his proposal.

"that's supposed to convince me?" you arched a brow, an amused smile pulling at your lips

"What, you think I can't make you come quickly?" he purred, his hand going to your ass in a swift move to grab at it.

You bit down a whine "Well I don't know"

"tell me you don't want it" he teased, the fingers on your core starting a torturous path up and down your still-clothed, but unbelievably drenched, slit "That you don't want this"

His fingers had trespassed your panties and had now found your raw skin, making you gasp

"anyone could come in us, including Messina" you added breathlessly

"I locked the door" he promised, his forehead on yours as his ring and middle finger gently found their way inside of you.

"a-and what if someone needs to get in?" you tried your best not to moan, but the way he curled his fingers made it so very fucking difficult

"then we'll tell them to fuck off" he murmured, his mouth now touching yours, but still not kissing you.

"If we get caught I'm gonna kill you, we clear?"

"yes ma'am" he smirked, his breath mixing with yours

"now- may I kiss you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes before answering "Yes, you may"

And just like that, he was devouring you, his lips crashing with yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore every inch of it, gaining dominance on your own in a matter of seconds.

"fuck I missed this" he groaned, his fingers suddenly speeding up and robbing you of all ability to tease him about his words "these fucking lips are gonna be the death of me"

Your mouth was open as you desperately tried to get oxygen to your lungs, but he didn't care, he took your bottom lip into his mouth and started sucking, his fingers fastening their pace as the filthy sound of your wetness bounced off the walls of the room.

"tell me you thought about it too" he growled, his palm making contact with your clit and forcing you to gasp as your hips started grinding onto it, onto his hand, sparks of pleasure staining your vision. "tell me I'm not the only crazy one baby"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as you felt yourself grow closer to a release.

"shit- you look so fucking hot when you're about to come"

"I-" your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the heat of his stare on you, the way his eyes never left you, not even as he kissed your neck, the soft stubble of his mustache tickling your skin "I've thought about it too javi"

The satisfied groan he let out told you just about everything you needed to know.

"When?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his fingers relentless

"A-always" you whimpered, "e-everytime I look at you"

shit- maybe you shouldn't have said that

"yeah?" a wolfish grin tugged at his lips "You think about me? about my cock? my fingers? my tongue?"

You mewled at his words, at the memory they brought with them, at how fucking good he was making you feel-

"J-Javi please"

"what?" he breathed, his mouth on yours again, your hips grinding shamelessly onto his hand "You're gonna come baby, 's that it?"

"y-yeah- fuck- I-"

he knew the signs by now, he knew those desperate breathless sounds you made just as you reached your peak- and god did he fucking love them

"come for me- come baby" he murmured, his lips crushing with yours to stifle your moans just as your walls spasmed around his digits- wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Oh how he loved seeing the strong fiery woman he saw every day come apart beneath him, all your walls crumbling down 'till there was just pure lust and pleasure beneath your eyes, 'till your body went limp and clung to him for support.

"fuck" you breathed your eyes finally opening again, only to find that his had never left yours. "I-" you gulped, but his lips were on yours again, his hands holding your face on each side, his fingers now out of you.

"w-we should get back," you said, mostly trying to remind yourself, of where you really were, of what you were really doing... but it was all so difficult when he was looking at you like that- when you could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans- the same one that had felt so fucking good inside of you.

"we should" he agreed, although a twisted grin played on his lips.

he was already kissing you again, exploring you again, and in no time you found yourself caged between him and a shelf filled with boxes of evidence, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Damn him

"People are gonna start wondering where we are"

"we're here... looking at evidence," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his hips grinding onto you, his mouth on the corner of your lips.

"fuck- fine," you murmured, the need for him stronger than anything at this point, even than the fear of getting fired.

He didn't waste a second- his dick was out in a heartbeat, and your panties were pulled to the side before you had even time to breathe.

His tip, his red, glistening tip found your entrance, making you gasp.

"c-condom" you suddenly remembered, your voice so feeble it was almost inaudible "Please tell me you've got a condom"

"fuck- you're right" he muttered, frustration tracing his tone "I should have one in my wallet"

Of course he had one in his wallet

His left hand reached into his back pocket, finding his wallet and taking the condom out of it as quickly as he could, throwing the wallet somewhere to the side.

You were supporting yourself all on your own as he rolled the condom onto his dick, which might sound easy... but seeing the state of your leg it really was a miracle.

It was all so fast, he seemed desperate as he guided his tip to your entrance, as he gripped your waist and kissed your lips while entering you.

He was so fucking big, definitely the biggest one you'd ever encountered, and not only that... but he fucking knew how to use it too.

It was impossible not to moan, and for him, it was impossible not to groan- let's just say the possibility of getting caught wasn't first on the list of things in your mind at the moment.

"fuckfuckfuck" you whimpered, letting out a soft cry when he finally bottomed out

"Jesus Christ you feel fucking perfect" he growled, his eyes on yours, his hands gripping your waist as he tried his best to give you a moment to adjust and not start to fuck you like an animal right away.

"J-Javi"

And that, that little plead in your voice was all he needed to hear.

There was no way the sound of your skin slapping with his couldn't be heard from outside.

He felt so fucking good- criminally so.

"oh my g-" you had to bite down on something, and the little sliver of skin his shirt didn't cover right where his shoulder met his neck seemed much too perfect for your need.

He groaned, the bastard fucking groaned in pleasure as your teeth sank down into his skin, and you swore to god you could have come from that sound alone.

Your hands were laced between his neck, fingers taking hold of whatever hair you could grab, as he thrust up into you like a man starved, and you did all you could to meet his movements with the same urgency.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like it'd been an eternity- a torturous, awful eternity of daying yourself of this.

"been thinking about this every fucking minute this week" his voice was breathy, hoarse, as he whispered to your ear "about this perfect fucking pussy of yours- about your mouth, about how- Fuck me-" his own growl interrupted him, your walls were squeezing him much too fucking tight "how good you taste, how hot you look when I'm eating you out- about this fucking perfect body of yours" he purred "Jesus christ you make me lose my mind"

You couldn't help but moan, moan at his words, at his pace, at the way his touch sent sparks flying in your belly- it was all too much.

"You've gotta be quiet baby" he murmured as you raised your head to look at him, to beg him for something- anything.

"I know sweetheart, I know" he breathed, his lips skimming yours "I know issa lot"

And to think you couldn't even stand him seven days ago... look at you now- looking into his eyes pleadingly as he fucked you in the evidence room.

"Javi" you could only breathe as his mouth crashed with yours once again, "I'm gonna-"

"I know"

Of course he knew

And just like that, you were over the edge, his tongue in your mouth muffling your cries as his thrust got more erratic, and somehow even more powerful.

Once again, he'd given you the best orgasm of your life.

He tried to hold off to let you ride it out, but fuck him it was proving to be real fucking difficult.

And then you opened your eyes- your beautiful, dreamy, eyes that he'd been dreaming of for days and there was no point in fighting it anymore-

"F-fuck y/n- fuck-"

There was a loud thud somewhere behind you, but neither of you cared enough to look, or god forbid stop- there was only you, you, and the spectacular groan Javier fed you into a kiss as he finally reached his climax.

There was only the sound of your breathing, both your heavy breathings as you looked at each other- and then you smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

And then all of the sudden the sounds from the office started flowing into the room again.

Oh right

"we really have to get back"

"yeah" he halfheartedly agreed, slowly setting you back on your feet, only in doing so, something caught your eye.

"fuck"

There were files on the floor- there were files on the floor because you'd knocked down some of the boxes of evidence- and you hadn't even noticed.

Javier followed your line of sight, but while panic was setting in your heart, he began to smile

"don't laugh!" you hissed, "what the fuck do we do? How do we explain this?"

"we don't" he simply shrugged, closing his zipper back up as you quickly tried to make yourself presentable.

"What?"

"we were never here- now, get back out there"

"I-"

"trust me" he said, retrieving his wallet from the floor.

And for some fucking reason, you did- you trusted him.

"I hate you so much" you muttered, finally exiting the room.

Tg:@fallout-girl219

[lihhelsing]

steddie | 888 words | angst | mature

CW: drug use, implicit violence

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 3

Prompt: "The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

Part 2 | Part 3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?"

Eddie looks up from the joint he's rolling to find the only face he never thought he would see out here. 

"King Steve," he says, and maybe it's his imagination but Harrington seems to flinch at his words. "What can I do for you?"

Eddie goes back to rolling his joint. There's a part of him that thinks this could be a trap. Last week the entire swimming team had to do a test to make sure they were all clean and one of the guys didn't pass it. 

He didn't pass it because Eddie had sold him some stuff the week before so maybe now Steve was here to put Eddie in his place. 

Eddie lights up the joint and takes a long drag. If he's going to get a beating, then he might as well do it while high out of his mind. 

"I was hoping you'd sell me something," Steve says. Eddie looks at him with the joint between his lips, trying to assess him. 

"Sorry man, I'm all out," Eddie knows best than to create evidence against himself. 

Steve looks at the open metal lunchbox on the table and raises a brow. "Really?"

"Really," Eddie says. He doesn't bother closing it and he doesn't mind if Steve knows he's lying. 

"Jordan told me all I had to do was say that bullshit thing about the sunset and you'd get me something." 

Eddie turns his face to blow out smoke. Fucking Jordan. He had come up with that password phrase to avoid getting in trouble. If people really wanted to buy something, then they would have to come up to Eddie and say it. 

"He lied," Eddie says and he can see Steve's getting annoyed. 

He gets up and put his joint out, pocketing it for later. 

Eddie could definitely use a few extra bucks this week because their kitchen sink stopped working and Wayne doesn't get paid until the end of the month, but it's not worth the risk of getting in trouble. Eddie knows the money he brings home is what helps keeping them afloat, even if Wayne likes to pretend he doesn't know where Eddie gets it.

He closes his lunchbox and moves to walk past Steve, but feels a hand wrapping around his wrist, stopping him.

It's not a strong hold, he could easily break free and walk away, but Eddie stops. He doesn't think he ever got this up close with Steve, which is both thrilling and terrifying.

"Please, man," Steve says, his voice is really low and he's wearing sunglasses, so Eddie can't see his eyes. "I just need something to get the edge off."

Eddie looks down to where they are touching and feels a fucked up thrill going down his spine. Steve's hand is big enough to circle his wrist without much effort and Eddie wonders how it would feel to have that in a different scenario. 

He wonders how it would feel if Steve were to grab him and throw him down on the table. He could probably hold both his wrists with one hand, and Eddie would be helpless to do anything but take whatever Steve wanted to give him. 

Steve moves and Eddie doesn't even flinch, thinking he might get what he wished for after all, but Steve just takes out his sunglasses and Eddie's breath catches in his throat.

Steve has a big bruise around his left eye. It's ugly and it can't be older than a day. It must hurt like hell and Eddie has to fight the urge to touch it. 

"My head is killing me," Steve offers. He looks defeated and Eddie can't ignore the way his heart twist at the words. 

Eddie should ignore it. He should pull his arm away and walk out, leave him out here alone. But Eddie is not a fucking monster.

He picks up the barely smoked joint and offer it to Steve, who lets go of Eddie's arm and takes it immediately. 

Eddie decides not to think about the absence of his touch, and instead watches as Steve puts it between his lips and how that essentially means their lips touched, somehow.

Steve is giving him a hopeful look and Eddie should walk away but instead he picks his lighter and lights him up. 

The first drag floods Steve's expression with relief and he lets out a low moan that makes Eddie's whole body tingle. 

"How much do I owe you?" Steve asks, already moving to get his wallet. His arm brushes Eddie's but he doesn't seem to mind the proximity. 

"Consider it a free sample," Eddie says and Steve eyes him suspiciously. 

"You gotta let me pay you," Steve says and Eddie has to stop himself from saying 'you can pay me with something other than money.'

Even if he doesn't say it, Eddie is under the impression the words float around them like ghosts. Steve raises a brow and Eddie has to laugh it off before he starts taking off his clothes. 

"Don't worry, big boy. Enjoy your free sample."

And with that, Eddie retreats before he does something stupid like kiss King Steve. That would get him a beating for sure and Eddie likes a little pain, but he probably wouldn't like that. 

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 8 part 3

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

I love how after all the I'M THE BIG SCARY EMBODIMENT OF DEATH WHERE ARE MY BODIESSSSSSSS bit rio just wants to sit and TALK to her wife. that's all she ever wanted, ONE MATURE CONVERSATION

and I also adore the way aubrey chose to sit here 10/10 no notes

both know that the Road isn't real but they talk as if its power is real. because it is, like I said, Billy created a 100% functional, DEADLY Road

so we learn that tommy is still a soul floating somewhere and billy is the only one who can give him a new body. it's interesting that Death herself couldn't find and collect tommy's soul, it means that, like everything concerning wanda and billy, it's beyond Death's realm of expertise - which is the natural order of things. she hates ghosts because they're souls that resist the sacred cycle and linger behind on earth. billy and tommy are even worse than ghosts because they bend the rules even further.

is agatha bluffing when she gives up on billy this easily? yes and no. she is a huge nerd and a scheming mastermind so she'll keep looking for a way to save billy - but if she doesn't, she fully believes she'll be capable to sacrifice him to save herself and be absolutely fine about it, she won't die of Severe Grief Constipation or anything

oh?? but what is this? is rio hesitating? did detective agnes find a clue?

bingo!! lol her jessica fletcher light bulb moments

rio looks SO grumpy. curse her wife's beautiful brain! this is the first time we ever see agatha take the upper hand I think

billy the marvelous immortal homosexual

YEAH NO SHIT SHERLOCK. oh no, Death is really cute when she's all frustrated about the Sacred Balance. she's such a nerd too.

yes agatha you're a genius! like all your plans this is going to work spectacularly and won't blow up in your face or anything of the sort

goddamnit

rio immediately calls bullshit

agatha walks toward her and look at rio's body language, she's getting ready, but it's almost playful. this is what they do, agatha bluffs and rio gently but firmly calls her out. she's going to learn what's agatha's latest scheme and she's gonna fix it. this is what she's always been doing, she brings balance to agatha's chaotic existence. or at least, she tries to.

I cannot express enough how stupid this woman is. like, she is so smart but she's is SUCH a clown. COMPLETELY incapable of making good choices

rio is like, HA, nice try sweetums, but that's not how it works

but as agatha talks, rio's face start to fall

this is agatha lashing out, making it once again all about herself and punishing rio for her grief. agatha is making her own life hell, she's not going to magically feel fine if rio goes away. can you imagine what would happen if she handed billy over and rio left her alone? agatha would probably fall back into her most toxic habits and commit so many atrocities to numb the pain, she'd be so completely alone and miserable.

a long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long, long, long long time from now (stupid ass clown)

aaaaaand she went and did it. she said the most hurtful thing she could come up with. that's what happens when you fight with someone you know so intimately, you can pick the magic words that will inflict the most damage. not only she doesn't want to see rio now, she doesn't want to see her when she dies. yes, you heard that right rio! fuck your sacred balance, fuck the natural order of things, you'll have to bend the rules for me again! you don't get my soul, and what's worse, you don't get to bring me to nicky. you're NEVER going to fix me. I'd rather roam the world as a disgusting, angry ghost!

there is some scheming too because this is agatha we're talking about and becoming a ghost is a good contingency plan. but mostly? she's just angry, she's scared, she's hurting. and she's just made a huge mistake.

count how long it takes for rio to answer. twenty seconds, that is an eternity on a tv show. she opens her mouth but can't find the words, she looks down, she looks to the side, she can't believe what just happened. it's like agatha slapped her.

and this is all she says in the end: okay.

okay, you win. okay, I've had enough. okay, it's over.

we're over.

and this pathetic sad sack of a woman just goes, wait... what?

she was bluffing. she's always treated rio as a bottomless well of patience and forgiveness, as her very own emotional punching bag. rio has demonstrated time and time again that no matter how low agatha punches, she will always come back. but there comes a time when even the person who loves you the most will give up on you if you give them nothing and demand everything in return.

rio was the person who loved agatha no matter what. until today.

so far it's always been agatha running away or demanding rio to leave. it's the first time rio just up and leaves on her own.

consequences of your own actions, baybeeeeee

NO, rio, don't look back you ridiculous bottom of a sapphic, STAND YOUR GROUND. no time for a te veo. don't try to be cool! just go!!!! you're DEATH for christ's sake!! have some dignity!!

she looks back TWICE. you know if agatha fell on her knees and begged right now rio would take her back in a heartbeat, like a LOSER.

I can't with rio cutting open the set with her knife and leaving, I saw it the first time and went, oh that's cool! no, it kinda looks cheap and ridiculous? no, wait, it's actually brilliant??? love that they had no CGI budget and had to come up with stuff like this, it's a great callback to wandavision and hints at the Road being staged. and only rio can see it!

"yeah whatever, this is exactly what I wanted!!! doesn't hurt one bit!!!!!!! all according to plan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

next up: agatha is absolutely calm and composed and doesn't at all go ballistic on billy and jen.

go to episode 8 part 4

[p1utofairy]

PAC: “good karma my aesthetic. keep my conscience clear, that's why i’m so magnetic.” 🩰🍥🫧🪷

• what do you need to hear right now?

disclaimer ✩: take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i really appreciate y’all sm <3 for the patience, the love, the feedback and support. y’all are the greatest ever. i’m open to pac suggestions as well, so don’t hesitate to slide in my ask box! xoxo.

pile 1 ☂️ —

heyyy pile 1 ⭐️ what you need to hear right now is: release. relax and let go of any unhealthy attachments you may have to a certain person, place, idea or thing. i think you've been holding onto someone/something or the idea of what it could be/could’ve been. i pick up a feeling of yearning. you’ve been wanting something to work out in your favor, so you’ve been holding out…waiting to see if this situation will turn out how you anticipate. big 3 of wands energy. you’ve been waiting awhile now (i’m hearing weeks for some, months for others) for a clear answer. i think the more you wait around and stall things, the less likely things will go into motion. don’t chase, attract. remember that things will flow naturally to you and it’ll always work out in your favor no matter what — when one door shuts, several more will open. don’t put a time frame on it, you’ll get your answer/wish/clarity when you least expect. keep focusing on yourself and what you’re currently doing! whether that be going to school, work, the gym, studying, spending time with friends, etc. there’s a certain area in your life that you greatly want change to occur in, i’m heavily picking up for some that this is in regards to your love life, and again — i keep hearing that things will unfold in your favor when you least expect. very soon. you’re on the brink of something great, just don’t overthink it. relax, take a breath and just BE. your guides will handle the rest. love, prosperity and abundance are on the way to you. it just may not appear in the way you envision, which doesn’t mean it won’t happen at all. think about it this way, you might fantasize about coming across your dream person while you’re in a bookstore (on some ‘harry met sally’ type shit lol) so every time you go into a bookstore you’re kinda anticipating that to happen, but let’s say your busy at work or you’re frantically trying to prioritize doing your school work and studying and out of nowhere you look up and make eye contact with this person you’ve never seen before but you can feel the ✨vibe✨ like WHOA that’s…my person. i just see you being in your element when you meet this person pile 1, your mind will not be preoccupied/you will not have any precognitive thoughts — your person will just reveal themselves to you out of the blue. okay i feel like i’m getting carried away lol but everything’s gonna work out even better than you imagined pile 1 💗 trust that.

other channeled messages:

don't settle for less, pink + white by frank ocean, strawberry milkshake, chemtrails over the country club by lana del rey, leo sun, cancer moon, vedic astrology

pile 2 🦢 —

what's goodddd pile 2! i feel like you're in your self-love/healing era. you just bounced back from something and you did it with such resilience, ease and grace might i add. i'm hearing church girl by beyoncé, “i'm gonna love on me, nobody can judge me but me! i was born free.” okayyyyyy pile 2 i love this for y'all. i think some of you are really working on strengthening your throat chakra by speaking up for yourself and setting boundaries. just saw a meme that said “how i reclaimed the word ‘cunt’ by being one” OH WOW WOW WOW. i think you’re just over a lot of people and their bullshit, you may have just gotten out of a relationship, had a friendship breakup or recently left a job. good for you 💗whichever situation applies to you, i know it was draining and heavy on your shoulders. you finally feel like a weight has been lifted and you can spread your wings and be free. idk why i’m hearing some of you might be listening to a lot of lana del rey lately? (random but REAL af lol) i love that you know yourself at the core pile 2, you can’t fake it…if somethings not pleasing you or it’s not in your best interest, you know how to walk away and find something better. you don’t even know it, but you're inspiring to a lot of people. i think what you need to hear is: keep being your true authentic self. never forget where you came from and who helped you along the way, because i see that you have a big, bright and successful future ahead of you pile 2. you’re gonna be a star. “the diamond in the rough” from aladdin is what i’m hearing. you’ve got the wit, talent and empathy to get where you need to be in life. i wish you nothing but happiness and success pile 222 ♾️

other channeled messages:

hurricane by bridgit mendler, switch a n**** out by summer walker, olivia pope, sagittarius rising, cancer moon, pisces energy, save your tears remix by the weeknd & ariana grande, on my shoulders by sabrina claudio, red dress

pile 3 💵 —

hi pile 3 🤗 i’m getting rich vibes from y’all already lmfao, even if you aren’t (yet) there’s this energy of being very well-kept and liking the nicer things in life. you love you some good ol’ retail therapy. the message you need to hear right now is: spend your money wisely. i think you need to budget/save a bit more pile 3, you can sometimes go a bit overboard and indulge in the latest clothes, upscale restaurants or beauty products. you like nice things!!! there’s nothing wrong with that at all, you just need to make sure you’re prioritizing and balancing your earnings. some of you that picked this pile have very young energy lol like i can see you chilling at like 12am scrolling on youtube/tiktok and ooo’ing and aaa’ing at so many different product reviews and adding shit to your cart. some of you are tempted to buy stuff from the tiktok shop too lolll that was so oddly specific but i also feel like you've been big on protecting your peace lately. kickin’ back by mila j is coming to mind, “i’m kickin' back and i’m lightin' up doin' what the fuck i want. just rolled a wood, i’m feelin' good. just me, myself and this blunt.” i know das rightttt pile 3 🤭 you know your worth and you’re not settling for less than anything that you deserve — i love this.

other channeled messages:

luxurious by gwen stefani, need to know by doja cat, i just had an epiphany i need to go to tiffany’s, fenty gloss bomb, chanel chance, scorpio moon, catching flights not feelings

[a-confused-spoon]

So about Caitvi...

I'm no one to judge whether or not caitvi is good representation. As far as I'm concerned, I'm happy if the lesbians watching the show are happy.

...you know what does piss me off though? A teeny tiny bit more than just "a little"?

Seeing some people defend the absence of a conversation between Caitlyn and Vi with "actions matter more than words".

Like...okay, first thing first, season 2 makes it pretty clear that's bullshit given how every other pairing previously at odds resolved things through the almighty power of talking things out: Vander wrote a letter to Silco and they became gay dads in the au, Ekko went through all possible combinations of words to convince Jinx not to blow herself up, and whatever the fuck Viktor and Jayce had going on in the finale... So yeah, crazy thing to say about this season;

Secondly, when we say "actions matter more than words", are we just not counting the verbal promise of not changing followed by abuse/ pain caused by the very much action of hitting a victim of police brutality who has utterly betrayed herself and her people for the sake of helping the same exact person who hit her because she pointed out "hey, maybe don't risk shooting a child"?

GRANTED this and most of what I'll say next is applicable to most of season 2 imo- we barely get to sit with the seriousness of a situation we just have to skip to the next one, so I wouldn't say it's a caitvi thing alone... nevertheless it's present there too, so back to the main conversation-

We know Caitlyn regrets it, but does she ever understand why it's so fucked up that she did that? Vi has a rush of emotions after realizing what Cait has done and is happy to stay with her, but once they... finish in that prison, does Vi really respect herself as an individual who has gone through some tough shit or is it a passive "fuck it we ball" attitude all the way to the finale where she wears once again the enforcer badge?

Caitlyn's personal character development (one that has to do with seemingly grief alone and nothing to do with classism and power dynamics which are a massive part of the problem both on a micro and macro level) shouldn't be something that "makes up" for what she did to Vi in episode 3, and because Vi's character was criminally neglected we never really get to see her actually give a shit about herself beyond, allegedly, her relationship with Cait- which is fucked, considering Vi always ever only sees herself in relation to others (Cait or Jinx for the most part) and never as a stand alone person.

That's why that conversation was pretty much needed here.

Aside from the fact that having a conversation with a partner isn't just saying "sorry", it's about being vulnerable, letting them know you see them, telling them where you stand, being just openly honest with one another etc. (aka is an integral part of the relationship itself), it also would've been an excellent way to let all the development they couldn't show for a lack of time still shine through dialogue.

No, it's not a "wanting things spelled out", it's a "they quite literally did that a bunch of times already in this very season, so they might as well do it for the main romance too since a conversation would also be fitting for the current situation"; examples might include that one scene with Silco and Ekko in episode 7 about forgiveness, or that one scene of Isha and Jinx where Jinx literally spells out "hey you remind me of Powder, meaning myself when I was younger, the younger self I thought I left behind-" (insert that one clip of Kronk from The Emperor's New Groove).

And before anyone puts words in my mouth, this isn't coming from a place of hate for either Caitlyn and Vi or Caitvi as a ship; engaging in criticism isn't hate for what's being critiqued, so please don't assume that some conversations don't come from a place of love for the show and the characters just because they don't openly praise every bit of what we got.

edit: ...tell you what, the more I think about it the more it seems that the issues I have with how this ship comes to be aren't even super specific to these characters and their relationship, but are actually the same exact things I don't love about the general writing of season 2 on a bigger scale (lack of commentary on class oppression, character arcs that feel unfinished or cut short, the theme of love and forgiveness ending up undermining the seriousness of some situations- I'm not complaining about the theme itself nor I'm saying it comes out of nowhere, I'm saying that probably due to the pacing/lack of time we can't sit with how fucked up some stuff is before getting to the point of "love > anything else"... which isn't a wrong sentiment, I'm just talking about the journey to get there)

[bitterbutblue]

What if i request Robin x Fem!Reader where Robin felt a bit pressured from the media and as her beloved girlfriend you help her relief stress :33

It can be fluff or smut, i dont rlly care i just want more Robinnn content :333

Thank you in advance!!!

Also can i be 🍷 anon? :3

you're not bad, but rather good ☆ robin x fem!reader

~ omg hi!!!! ur my first anon this is so exciting.... i don't do smut but i can totally do fluff.. anything 4 u <3

gonna start naming out the song lyrics i've been using as titles

loveable ~ jo yuri <3 ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Robin's recent comeback- a miserable failure.

Robin's new EP 'Welcome To My World' has been nothing but a colossal failure. With each new album, Robin continues to disappoint- fans are sick of her low effort songs and lack of stage presence. Her comeback stage shows her clearly lack of passion. Just because she has made a name for herself does not mean she can now slack off on stage when fans pay thousands to see her-

You closed the article before you finished reading it. If you continued, you probably would've ended up throwing your phone across the room or do something along the lines of that sort of stupidity that you would end up regretting later. That article was like a knife through the heart for Robin but for you it was a knife through the author's decaying and bleeding out body as you stab that fucker over and over again. Okay, maybe that was too violent but fuck you can't stand to see people say such bullshit about your girlfriend. She called you at work, crying and saying she couldn't do it anymore. You could barely make out her words through her sobs and the bad signal (which led you to believe she was hiding in the bathroom).

"I worked so hard, I don't know what they want from me. I can't-"

"Robin, baby, deep breaths- okay? I'm right here, it's okay."

It infuriates you, how people can run their mouths and say whatever bullshit that comes to their mind just because they're not satisfied with their own miserable lives. Just because they feel like dragging someone down would perhaps make themselves feel better about the fact that someone half their age is more successful than they will ever be. You want to tell her that you'll fucking find them and make their life a living hell but that's definitely not what she wants to hear right now.

"What do they want from me? I'm so tired, I don't wanna do this anymore."

All you really could do was continue to comfort her, hoping that she can pick up what you're saying through the static and cut offs due to bad internet. You just stayed with her until her cries became sniffles and she stated that she has to go before they suspect anything. You swallowed back your worry and just nodded.

"Okay. I love you, Robin.

You can feel her smile from across the phone.

"I love you."

That night you spent the entire evening in the kitchen, prancing around and trying not to burn the eight things you have going on the stove as you flip through your phone to find that recipe for the thing in the oven that looks horrifically bad.

"Ah fuck..."

You check the time- 8:03, she should be back soon. You finally find the recipe page and you feel your heart drop. Fuck, you were supposed to bake it for 30 minutes- not 50! No wonder that shit looked so wrong! You scramble to pull it out of the oven, the timer with 5 minutes left. You groan when you see how it looks- first it looked wrong and now it was probably burnt too. So much for making your girlfriend's favourite dessert.

"Love?"

The soft voice startles you, yelping as you dropped the cake pan.

"Shit!"

Robin stands there in all her glory. She looks exhausted, eye bags worse than before and shoulders sagged but to you she was still the most beautiful woman you have ever laid your eyes on.

"Everything okay?"

She tries to smile at you but it looks so forced. You feel your heart clenching in your chest as you pick up the cake pan from the ground, moving it back onto the counter.

"Baby, just let me take care of you tonight?"

You pull her in close, hugging her tight. She freezes at first, before completely melting in your grasp. She lets out a shaky sigh as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.

"I missed you."

Her voice is muffled against your shoulder but you just smile as you tiptoe to press a kiss to her forehead.

"I missed you so much, baby." You pull away, cupping her face with your hands as you brush your thumb against her cheek. "You look beautiful."

"Don't lie."

She gets flustered so easily, face turning pink as she looks away but she can't stop the small smile from forming on her face.

"I'm not. You look beautiful."

She sighs as she looks back at you, and the tired expression on your usual warm and happy girlfriend really does hurt you. The way the media can tear people down into nothing but the most insecure parts of themselves has always rubbed the wrong way with you but watching it happen to the one you love most is absolutely heartbreaking.

"I made you dinner?"

"I saw."

Her smile is not as forced now as she looks around the kitchen, a soft giggle escaping her lips.

"Quite a mess you made."

You just shoot an embarrassed grin at her as you tried to hide the cake pan behind your back.

"Well, I'm not a good cook."

"I think you did amazing."

She steps forward, caging you between the counter and herself.

"You make the worst days brighter, you know?"

"You make each of my days better. It's only fair I do the same to you."

Robin looks down, playing with her hands.

"I don't deserve you."

"Oh shut up."

The kiss was soft, gentle and loving. She cups your cheeks as she steps closer, bodies pressed against each other as you pour all the love you can convey through a simple act.

"I love you. I really love you so much, Robin." You say breathlessly to her when you pull away. She doesn't say much, only resting her head on your shoulder as she takes your hand into her own, lacing your fingers together.

"And I'm so proud of you for your new comeback. You've worked so hard and it paid off. You keep outdoing yourself and the people who don't see that can fuck off and die."

She sighs.

"No need for the violence, yeah?"

"Violence is always the answer."

You feel your heart flutter when she lets out a soft laugh, like a songbird's first melody of a new spring.

"You do whatever you want." She says, resting a hand on your chest as she leans in to press a quick but soft kiss to your lips. "Thank you- for this."

"Always."

The food you cooked was mostly inedible- resorting to the two of you ordering takeout together but you couldn't care less about the burnt cakes or undercooked mac and cheese. Robin is smiling again, and that's all you wanted to achieve for the night.

Response to: Robin's recent comeback- a miserable failure.

Robinsdog: op do u not have a life

servallandau_official: No one thinks this.

⤷ talesofthewinterlandsfan222: serval spitting facts but also what r u diong here

⤷ servallandau_official: Do I know you?

⤷ talesofthewinterlandsfan222: ENEVRMIND

march4robin: im giong to find u my entire crew is oing to find u we will run out train into u

galaticstelleballer: i am also going to run my train into u. and my bat. both at the same time.

⤷ dh: Guys please.

Sunday_Oakfamily: We are taking this post and the writer off the platform.

The article you are searching for no longer exists.

[artytaeh]

i'm not having the best of days lately, so i'm making it everyone's problem now. ❄️

that popular audio of heartstopper s3 has been on my mind for a while. we know, as a fandom, that theodore and mattheo are each other's best friend— or closest person, ever since childhood. and even though mattheo can see how theo's girlfriend is doing him good, sometimes it feels as if mattheo's presence, which has been a steady constant in theodore's life, became so 'normal' that theo ends up forgetting about it.

mattheo can't really go back home. theodore doesn't like to go back to his own, not wanting to risk being in the way of his father's mood swings. so, the two of them spend the winter holidays at hogwarts, together. it's almost tradition, at this point.

so when theodore's girlfriend so gently offers theo to spend christmas with her, at her house, with her heartwarming family, theodore sees the opportunity of, for once, having a normal christmas. at least, the holidays that he sees in movies and are told by students that don't have the same complicated family that he does.

without realizing it, theodore replaces the usual winter tradition with mattheo, and accepts spending christmas with her.

which, consequently, deeply hurts mattheo.

'can't you at least spend christmas with me?' even though mattheo despises being vulnerable, this is theodore. and theodore is his safe person, even if mattheo would never admit it to himself— such stupid vulnerabilities, because he shouldn't need anyone. 'you spend all your time with that girl anyways.'

on the other hand, theo can't help but be selfish about his own needs. like a thristy person in the desert, he clings to the chance of normalcy, of living what he could only envy for years, and years on end.

'because she treats me as something more than just the son of a death eater,' theodore rages, because even within his friendgroup, its silently said between the lines.

that's who they are. specially mattheo, draco and theodore; rooted to dark wizards, born doomed. even blaise and lorenzo, with calmer families, wouldn't escape such a fate. outside of slytherin's dungeons, away from the blood supremacy ideology and hatred amongst the wizardy community— his girlfriend seems him as theo, and not theodore nott.

and perhaps, worse than being forgotten and left alone for two weeks in this freezing cold castle, this is what hurts mattheo the most.

'i do, too.'

three words, that never sounded as painful and broken from the mattheo quick-to-anger riddle. it cracks on its way out of his mouth, weighting on his tongue.

theodore rolls his eyes: 'you say that as if our damn families aren't a constant topic between us.'

'because you understand me,' mattheo answers, dumbfounded at how, for such an intelligent wizard, theodore seems so stupidly dumb right now. 'out of everyone, even more than draco and his stupid family, you are the person who knows how it's like.'

at that, theodore doesn't answer.

he doesn't victimize himself, because that tactic never works with mattheo, who'd rightfully tell him to fuck off. mattheo's strategies never work with theo either, cutting his bullshit at the same moment. and that, as mean as it sounds, never failed to oblige each other to be truthful with the other.

so, this time, theodore shuts up.

and doesn't aim to be the one gaining the last word.

because in the end, theodore enters the hogwarts express, holding his girlfriend's hand as she enthusiastically tells him all that they can do during these two weeks— instead of watching the chaos on the top floor of the bell tower, smoking the usual cigarette with mattheo, as the two deal with the utter disappointment and hurt with mean jokes about happier students.

this time, said tradition happens too, but one-sided. this december, mattheo is alone on the bell tower, much quieter than it usual is without theodore's sarcasm to cheer him up. smoking a cigarette alone, and already with the second one in end which he'd smoke for theodore, he's alone.

alone, and for the first time in a while, mattheo discovers what loneliness truly feels like.

today, as he's left alone in the hogwarts castle.

tomorrow, when he wakes up and sees that theodore's bed, right in front of his, is empty.

that feeling would stretch for long two weeks, more than fifteen days, perhaps for even longer than that. the moment theodore stepped on that damned train, something was broken.

mattheo is torn between being petty and praying that this christmas is just as terrible for theodore, so that next year, he won't hesitate to spend all of his time with him, and fucking apologize for being an asshole this year.

... however, a tinier, even more painful side of mattheo, hopes that theo feels welcome there. in a warm home, in his girlfriend's arms, experiencing what mattheo never hopes to experience someday. because deep down, no matter how hurt he is—mattheo discovers that he's stupid like that.

that he cares about theo too much, to truly desire harm coming his way.

no matter how lonely he is.

[lancabbage]

When someone brings out the novel artwork as 'proof' WWXs og body didn't have scars all over his back from YZYs canonical abuse... You know you're dealing with an idiot.

Yes, the art is pretty and a nice addition. But it's not canon and it hardly depicts it either... We have artwork in the novel that shows WWX in red and black during his youth when he would have been wearing Jiang clan purple. He only starts wearing black post burial mounds escape. So that's incorrect...

We have novel art depicting WWX with glowing red eyes... Also not canonically true either. Nor are his tits ever particularly out, but most give his YLLZ era a plunge neckline so low you might be able to see the hint of his garden path if you look close enough!

If you're using mostly fan generated artwork - who have been clearly influenced by the CQL and donghua or their own personal headcanons and preferences - you're a moron and wasting my time.

“Uh, yeah,” Wei Wuxian said. He felt his back, which was LINED WITH OLD AND NEW WELTS. He couldn’t help but ask the question he’d been dwelling on. “Really, this must be the greatest injustice in all of history. Why am I always the only one getting hit whenever something happens?”

7S translation

Wei WuXian, “Uh-huh, that’s right.” He felt his back, COVERED IN SCARS BOTH OLD AND NEW, and still couldn’t hold back the question he’d be thinking about, “How awfully unfair. Why is it that I’m the only one who gets beaten up, whenever something happens?”

ExR translation

YZY whipped and abused WWX whenever she was in residence at Lotus Pier. Considering she was apparently barely there and the detailed description of new and old scars (wounds/welts*/injuries - whatever you want to fucking call it!! It's all the same!!!) we see in the extras, she must have harmed him any chance she got while she was back. We see her lashing him (and him alone!) for the most tenuous of "reasons"... The fact it states he was covered in scars both new and old shows historical abuse spanning some time - most likely since he arrived at LP at the age of nine!!!

So don't go pulling that bullshit on me when we're talking about canon FACTS. Especially when people cherry pick the text to conveniently show what they want and omit the stuff that shows they're talking from their ass.

*An English lesson for those struggling with 7S translation choice for the scars on WWXs back...

The term "welts" doesn't JUST mean a swollen bruise like mark on the skin or an itchy raised bump. It's a technical term used for injuries and scars left behind from being whipped or beaten hard and heavily with something. While I'm not a fan of their word choices, this is technically correct in the sense the marks are classified as welts as defined above.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for exposing my sister-in-law's secret during a fight?

Ok, this one is going to need a bunch of context.

I (29F) started to date my fiance F (31M) when I was 26. While he is the sweetest person ever, his family is a bit difficult and it was hard for me to fit in. They are a very traditional family of Japanese descent, very rich too, and his mother MIL (60sF) had a dream of seeing all of her three sons married to other rich girls of Japanese descent. I am white and from very humble origins, so I was not very well accepted at first. The thing that bothered me the most was the constant comparisons to my brother in law BIL's (34M) wife SIL (33F), who is rich and of Japanese descent. I was deeply in love with F and decided to fight for my place in his family; I started to take Japanese classes and ended up really good at it, and I was also the one who took care of MIL after her appendicitis' surgery. She recognized my hard work and we became closer and closer, at the same time she realized SIL didn't make the same effort for her and the family as I do, and she started to be very vocal about how I was her favorite daughter in law and how SIL should do better and try to be more like me. Suddenly, the tables have turned and SIL was the one being compared to me, no the other way around.

Of course she didn't like that at all and started to antagonize me and criticize every small thing about me. She would complain my dog would bark too much (which she did, but SIL was a little mean about it), and when my dog died, she made a comment about how finally she wouldn't have to hear her barking anymore (that stung a lot since I loved my dog with all my heart and she was like a baby to me), she would also complain about my apartment every time she visited me, saying it was too cheap (as I said, I come from humble origins) and her newest topic of complaining are my earrings: I like to wear cute and funny earrings (only at work and family gatherings, I don't wear them at social events or anything like that) and she always talks about how I'm too old to wear them and how tacky it looks. F and I noticed she's been progressively meaner the closer we get to our wedding (three months from now) and think she's trying to scare me away before I become an official part of the family.

One last piece of context: some months ago, F told me in confidence about how 6 years ago SIL's brother and sister in law died in a car accident and left an orphaned boy of 4 years old. SIL was the little boy's only family, but she refused to take him in saying she already had too much work with her own son (who was also 4 at the time). That didn't go well with the family; MIL and my father in law (who was alive at the time) assured her they would help with the kid and she would have all the support, but she simply didn't want the boy, so he was sent to the system. That was something MIL never forgave her for, since family is everything to her, and it was something only MIL, BIL, SIL, F and his younger brother knew. He told me that in confidence and asked me to not tell anyone. I promised I wouldn't.

Now for the actual situation.

Our last family dinner was one of F's cousins' birthday, so all the extended family was around. No kidding, I think there were around 60 people there or more. SIL, once again, decided to mock me about my earrings (little cherry earrings, very cute) and talked again how I was to old to wear them, how they were kid earrings etc. I've been tolerating her bullshit for so long now and after her comments about my dog's death, I was more sensitive than usual, so I snapped back and said that it's not because she dresses herself like an old lady that I have to do the same. She got angry at that and a proper fight started; we saying worse and worse stuff to each other while everyone stopped to watch. It ended up with her mocking my upbringing and calling me a gold digger, accusing my of only being with F for his money. That really struck a nerve because I heard that before at the beginning of our relationship and it always hurt my feelings, since I genuinely love F. Before I could even think about it, I said: "At least I'm not a heartless bitch like you. How's your nephew doing, by the way? Oh, you have no idea, right? Since you put him in a fucking orphanage!"

She got speechless after that and left the place, went straight to her car with BIL and went home. I didn't hear from her or him since them. F is furious with me since he told me that in confidence and now all the extended family knows SIL's secret. MIL doesn't care at all; she never got over what SIL did to that little boy and it's been a while since SIL isn't in her best graces.

Now that I'm calmer I feel a little guilty for exposing SIL like that, but she was always so awful to me that I can't really feel that bad. Mostly, I feel bad for BIL, with who I always had a good relationship and even defended me back in the day when the family didn't accept me very well. Now he's not talking to me either and, as far as I know, he's also not talking to F.

So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[chaotic-mystery]

Code Red Chapter Eight | I Could Fly Home, With My Eyes Closed

Pairing: No outbreak AU dbf!Joel Miller x f!OC (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: Everything's going good with Joel and your life, but is it almost too good? What happens when you put Joel on the spot about taking a vacation together?

Content Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only blog MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, strained father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, swearing, arguing, mentions of anxiety and how that feels, angst, showering with Joel, hand job, dirty talk, morning sex, penetration (p in v), pet names (Joel refers to himself as daddy and you call him that as well), worshipping, fantasizing about eating you out at work, power dynamic, reader smokes. (If I've missed anything please let me know!)

Authors Note: I'm back. After some long thinking I decided it would be best to change Code Red from a reader insert to a female OC told in 2nd POV. There's just too much in here that adds to the story and dynamics for it to continue to be a reader insert while also being a blank slate. I want to reiterate the reader IS NOT physically described in any way other than having hair long enough to push away from the face. There's an underlying personality that I want to add and explore more and I hope you guys love it just as much as I do. Thank you always @pedgito for beta-ing for me, I love you. I love you all and thank you for the constant support on this. || wc: 5.3k || notif blog || ao3 ||

Every night for the past few months you were staying late at work with Joel to help him sort through the blueprints Tommy left out all over the place during the day. Joel’s hands rest on your shoulders as you sit at your desk, typing up some paperwork so you don’t have to worry about it later.He leans down close to your ear and ever so softly glides his lips over the shell of your ear. 

“Can we go now, baby? S’getting late and I need to get some food in my belly.” A soft kiss to your cheek makes you smile, face growing warmer by the second. 

“Just one more and then I’ll be done, I swear it.” You chuckle and squirm away, trying to type as fast as you can. His lips motivate you to keep going and soon enough his hands follow, dragging up your sides and stopping right over your wrists. 

“No, no more. It’ll be here for tomorrow.” Your chair spins around and you become face to face with Joel. 

“Mmmm I’m not too sure if my boss will like that.” You joke.

A grin fights to spread on his lips. “Yeah, baby? Since when do you care about making me upset?”  

“Since always.” Bullshit. You make him upset for the fun of it. The way his brows knit together and he gets that frown, arms crossed over his chest. He looked so good when he was mad. 

He reaches out his hand and pushes back on your chair to make it recline the closer he gets to your face, a small hum coming from his mouth. Menthol and tobacco tickles your nose as Joel leans in as close as he can before touching his plush lips to yours. You can almost taste him. You need him so badly. 

“You’re not a very good liar, sweet girl.” 

He finally closes the gap between you two and his tongue immediately wants access to your mouth which you happily oblige. Pulling him closer as if he was going to disappear, you run your fingers through his dirty curls at the nape of his neck. He was your drug and by god did you need every single ounce of him. Soft grunts come from between his lips which causes you to smirk between kisses and makes you wonder how far he’d let this go right here at your desk. 

Just as you grab his shirt to pull it from where it was tucked in his jeans, Joel laughs and pulls away slightly, just enough to look at you. 

“Come on, let’s go home.” 

Home. 

What he means is your house, but home slipped out so effortlessly. Like clock work he’d drive you two back to your shared neighborhood and he’d grab clothes from his house and usually something to read, either the farmers almanac or a magazine from the gas station, and come over to eat dinner with you before you hole up for the night and relax. It was only on nights Sarah wasn’t home and with her mother, as she had no idea about her dad dating the cool neighbor to the left of them. You respected the idea of him not wanting to tell her yet. The feeling always came back to you late at night when Joel was asleep in your bed with soft snores coming from him, always reminding you how wonderful he really was. Joel would never put Sarah in the position to constantly have women coming and going in her life, confusing her every single time she’d come back to his house and learn her dad was no longer with his girlfriend. Alan on the other hand, was good at making your life feel like a revolving door, no stability, no good people around besides what little family of his he tolerated. Joel is the complete opposite of him and how they’re friends, you’ll never understand. 

✮

You toss your purse onto the counter as Joel locks the deadbolt on the front door before he kicks his boots off onto the mat and groans tiredly as his feet rest flat on the hardwood floor. You grab a glass from the cabinet above your head to pour yourself a glass of water to go with your fries from the diner you just left. Joel looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face as he walks over to you. 

“What are you doin’, I thought you were full?”

You put a fry in your mouth and look at him before answering.

“No, but I noticed how tired you were and I didn’t want you to wait on me to finish so that’s why I asked Pearl for a box. No big deal baby, it’s fine.” 

Joel's face drops as he starts to understand why you did what you did. 

“Baby…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing, “please don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” You question with a mouth full of french fries and look at him confused. You weren’t seeing an issue with what you did but it was clear Joel was feeling differently. 

“This. Don’t rush yourself and not finish eating because you think I’m annoyed you’re taking too long or whatever may be the case.” Joel checks his tone and makes sure he’s not coming across as mad, but concerned. 

He steps in front of you and grabs your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek slowly as he looks at your eyes. 

“As corny as this is gonna sound, I'm gonna say it anyway. I will always wait for you, doesn’t matter what Im waiting on you for. If you’re eating I want you to enjoy your food, not look at me and think you gotta finish the rest at home because you think I’m gonna get mad at ya. Take your time, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” His attempt at reassuring you ends with a kiss to your forehead and his arms wrapping around you tightly until you’re against him with not an inch between you two. 

Your throat tightens with the need to apologize for doing that, as if you’ve done something wrong. 

“Okay…I’m sorry…” You mutter against his chest. 

“It’s fine, honey. I’m not mad at ya. Tell you what, why don’t I go shower and then we can watch a movie. How’s that sound?” You kiss him in agreement and Joel gives you a tired smile before he walks towards the bathroom with his clean clothes in hand. Time ticks on and it feels like eternity before you hear the water start and the shower curtain close and you couldn’t help but want to sit in there with him and just be near him. He made you finally feel comfortable in every aspect of yourself to allow yourself the small things as such.

You walk over to the bathroom door and clutch the crystal door knob to give it a turn and open the door just enough for you to slip inside. Steam whooshes past your face and the smell of your cucumber melon body wash fills your nose and you can’t help but smile at him smelling like you, never gets old.

“What’re you doin’ in here?” Joel hollers in a playful tone as he lathers his body with soap. 

You rest against the sink with your arms folded over your chest and for a second you think about ripping your clothes off to join him. You must’ve been taking too long to respond, suddenly your face was sprinkled with water to snap you back to reality. 

“You just gonna stand there and be silent or are you gonna get your ass in here?” 

That was all you needed to hear. Your clothes were on the floor before he could finish rinsing the stress filled day off his body. Joel turns around to the back of the shower and looks at you kind of surprised, not thinking you’d really join him in the shower. He switches spots with you and your eyes flutter shut with the trail of warm water running down your body until you’re covered in it. 

“Do you want me to wash your back for you, honey?” 

You think for a moment and answer Joel truthfully.

“Not at the moment but um…I was wondering if you’d hold me? Just for a second and then I’ll wa-“ 

Joel stops you by wrapping his arms around your torso from behind and giving you a light squeeze to let you know it’s okay. 

Nothing mattered in that moment besides him in that ugly green bathroom you hated so much, with his arms wrapped around you as if he’s won the lottery or something. To him he did, he definitely won. 

Joel, trying to be as much of a gentleman as he could be, starts to inch his fingers down your hip little by little, tugging you closer against his groin. 

“You’re so beautiful. Fuck I’m so lucky to even be this close to you.” He kisses your shoulder and continues speaking.

“To touch you.” A kiss between your shoulder blades.

“To see your bratty ass sitting so pretty at that desk at work…bet you didn’t even know you make me so hard I have to distract myself with something else before I do something I’ll regret.” His teeth ever so slightly graze your earlobe before he spins you around to face him. 

You open your eyes slowly and decide to test him a little more. 

“Like what? What would you do that you’d regret?” Smoothing over his sides beneath the warm water, you kiss his chest and hear his breath shudder, distracted from giving you a polite version of his answer. 

“To take you to the bathroom stall and eat your pussy until you’re screaming against my hand on your mouth, begging me to stop.”

“What makes you think I’d let you get that far before I’d get my hands on you?” You retort. Joke was on him, you’d never let him get ahead of you like that before you got your way with him first.

Still, you wanted to play this game with him. Before he could respond, you lean up and kiss him roughly, your hand traveling down his stomach until you bump his cock, already half hard just thinking about having you in such a predicament. 

A moan chokes out from Joel as if he’s been holding that one back forever and you can’t help but get into how much power you have over him, regardless what he says. Each stroke to his cock from your wet hand earns you a louder moan than the previous one, his hand reaching down desperately to cup your ass, water splashing against your feet harshly.

“F-fuck baby, jus’ like that. My god-” 

You hook your arm on his shoulder to keep him still as you go faster and kiss his neck, more and more moans pouring from his soft lips like honey. Joel’s knees begin to buckle a little and you smirk in the crook of his neck before biting the skin just enough to make him wince. 

“You’re so fucking hard, Joel. Dirty old man, thinking about eating me out at work. Tsk tsk tsk.” Whatever he’s been doing to you over the past months was giving you this new found confidence to be a dirty talker and a little dominant even though you were the biggest brat he’s ever crossed. 

Joel’s eyes squeeze tight as he takes in your words mixed with your hand curling just right over the sensitive tip. 

“O-old man, huh? But you wanna suck this old man's dick, don’t you?” 

He got you there, you wanted to do more than that. 

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

“What did I say earlier, honey…you’re not a very good liar.” He moans out and you pump his cock faster, hoping it would keep him from talking. 

Just as his groans echoes off the tile of the shower walls, you hear tires on the gravel driveway outside. You both stop in your places and turn to look out the small window above your head and notice your dad’s truck in your driveway. 

Fuck. 

Immediately you shut the water off and throw Joel’s towel at him and tell him to stay in the tub before you close the curtain on him and wrap a new towel around you from the closet. Hastily you begin to run around your entire place trying to grab anything that remotely looked like someone else was here with you. Joel’s boots sitting by the front door catches your eye and you bend down to grab them, hearing your doorbell ring. A big clunk comes from the boots hitting the closet floor before you close the doors and you can see your father’s shadow in the frosted glass of your front door. 

Fuck.

Three loud knocks to the glass pane makes you jump and you holler loud enough for him to hear outside, “One second! Hold on!” You run to your room and throw on a robe quickly before making your way back to the door with the fabric tied tightly around your body. 

You open the door to face your dad’s back and he turns to face you. 

“Bad time?” He dryly asks. 

“N-no, I was just getting out of the shower. Not trying to be rude but what are you doing here? It’s so late and I didn’t know you knew where I lived…” You close the collar on your robe more as the wind breezes past, sending goosebumps down your already anxious body. 

“I uh, I didn’t. I came to see Joel but he’s probably asleep, didn’t answer…and I noticed your car over here, didn’t know yall were neighbors.” He breathes in sharply as if he’s offended you didn’t share that with him. 

“So do I get to see the place or not?” He half asks as he’s trying to step inside before you give your answer. Noticing how pushy he’s being, it’s clear something is bothering him but he won’t spit it out. 

“No it’s really messy in here, I’ll invite you back though, promise.” You hold the door against your side tightly, foot behind it to keep it still. The awkwardness lingers while he processes you telling him no, something he’s never been able to understand when it comes from you. 

Tongue in cheek, he nods a little disappointedly and steps backwards to the railing of the porch. 

“S’okay. Didn’t think you’d want your dad in your space anyway, I get it.” There it was. The same sad sob story he always gave, his favorite card to play the second you didn’t turn into his puppet like you used to as a little girl. 

“Dad-” you begin, “-it’s not like that, I swear.” Your head falls as you can feel yourself getting more and more upset by the second. Nothing good is going to come from this, from him knowing you live here. Next to Joel. 

“Did you find a new job yet? The girls down at the bar keep talkin’ about how everyone around here knows about the little fight you caused months ago and now no one wants to hire ya.” The nerve he had to come over here, thinking you’d be chit chatty at almost eleven o’clock at night, just to hear how those bitches down at the bar that don’t even know you, tell your dad about his own daughter. 

Speechless, you stand there with a growing lump in your throat that acted as a net and stole every single word that you attempted to choke out. 

“I’m just saying, it doesn’t look good on me.” 

Unbelievable.

Blood boiling like water on a stove, you sigh loudly and stand straight up, ready to tell him exactly what you were thinking.

“I have a job now, thanks. I’ve had one for a few months now, actually. Thank you for coming over here and insulting me and telling me what the girls at that grimey fucking bar think of me. I really appreciate it, dad. Goodnight.” You slam the door and lock it before he has the chance to open it and knowing him he would. Within seconds your heartbeat begins to race and your head gets dizzy, Joel takes notice and he’s clothed now as he comes from around the corner. There’s no room to care that he heard every word of what just happened, you can’t get air into your lungs fast enough and you look panicked at him. 

“J-Joel I-” You clutch your chest and glance around the room quickly.

He rushes over to you and cups your face, muttering something to soothe you but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“I-I’m gonna go sh-shower.” 

“Baby, are you okay? Do you want me to come sit in there with you?” He asks but everything seems so muffled over the beat of your own heart that hasn’t slowed yet. You wander towards the bathroom and shut the door behind you, locking it without answering Joel. Warm tears glide down your cheeks as you start the water once more and step in, your cold body shivering under the now hot water that feels like it’s going to melt your skin off. 

Why would he say that? Surely he defended you to them, right? As a father, he could not have just sat there and let them talk about you like that, no way. Anyone in their right mind would never let someone talk about their daughter in such a manner but this was your dad, and he wasn’t a regular dad. 

Trails of water run down your back and you stand in silence with a hand over your mouth to muffle the sobs you started to let out. You couldn’t tell if it was tears or water from the shower coating your face anymore. 

✮

The sunlight slowly begins to pour into your bedroom, mourning doves singing faintly as they sit in the trees. As you lay there with Joel snoring on his back next to you, you couldn’t help but replay the night before. Your dad knowing where you live, especially next to Joel, wasn’t something you ever planned on sharing. Deep in thought, you didn’t even notice Joel stirring awake next to you until you’re engulfed by his arms wrapping around you and tugging you into him. 

“Good morning, baby.” He mumbles in your ear and nuzzles into your neck, eyes still shut. His favorite thing to do as soon as he’s awake is to pull you close and have a cuddle before you get up for the day, but today felt different. The house was silent but there was this unmentioned tenseness you didn’t talk about from last night and you weren’t even sure if he did hear everything your dad said to you. 

Failure. An embarrassment. How long before Joel soon started to see you that way?

“Hey…you’re doin’ too much thinkin’ before you’ve had coffee. What’s the matter?” Soft kisses to your cheek snaps you out of it and you try to shake it off. 

“Nothin, it’s nothing. Do you want pancakes or waffles for breakfast?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than you were Joel. 

“I want this. Just stay like this a little longer.” Joel presses more kisses to your shoulder and trails them over your chest until you’re on your back, tucked under him snugly. 

“You don't really want that.” 

Joel scoffs and dips his head under the covers to soon place his mouth on your stomach. “It’s exactly-“ he pecks your skin, “-what I want.” A low groan vibrates against your belly and you laugh slightly from the tickling sensation as your fingers manage their way into his soft bed head. 

Hooking his index and middle finger in the waistband of your panties, Joel starts to trail his mouth down your abdomen and bites at the blue cotton fabric covering your growing aching heat by the second. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Joel kisses your clothed pussy before dipping his fingers inside right to your clit. Slipping against his fingers makes you moan in his mouth and press your body against his enough to make your nipples brush against his arm. 

“J-fuck-Joel, please fuck me, god damn. Fuck me.” Your whiny pleads only make him finger you in more of a teasing manner, changing speeds and styles sporadically against your desperate attempts to fuck yourself against him. His mouth falls open to bite your earlobe while his fingers toy with your entrance. 

“You want daddy’s big dick inside you, hm? Use your manners.” His left hand comes up to rest on your windpipe as he kisses your lips. 

“Please, please please, daddy, please fill me up.” 

Everything was different this morning, even the sex. He felt more gentle with his actions, not wanting to throw you around like a ragdoll this time and it was a nice change for you. 

With a swift move Joel shucks off his basketball shorts and runs the tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal as his lube. 

“That’s right, such a good girl for me.” His finger swirls slowly on your plush lips before going inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue softly. Like muscle memory, you suck his finger and bite down firmly when he puts his cock inside you, the pressure subduing rather quickly when you adjust to him. 

Quivering warm breaths hit your neck as Joel buries his face into you. Moaning and groaning echo off your bedroom walls and you feel Joel nibble on your neck trying to get you to moan louder for him. 

“Yesss oh my god Joel, just like that please.” Your slurred words go quieter as his hips slam into you, but it wasn’t the normal rough sex. The passion was through the roof and he wanted to make you feel worshiped. 

“You’re so good to me baby doll, so damn good to me.” His husky voice is like liquid velvet in your ears and you can’t get enough. Joel’s name flys from your mouth with every other curse word you can rattle off as you start to feel that burning sensation in the pits of your belly. Arms wrapping around his neck and nails clawing at his back, your legs close around his waist subconsciously, trying to get him deep inside you as you could. It felt too good to let him sit up and pound into you, that’s not what you wanted. 

Chasing that orgasm, Joel starts to whimper in your ear everything you want to hear, squirming on top of you as he made it his mission to make you come before he did and he was putting in the work. Joel’s mouth around your nipples, biting and sucking for moments at a time before he goes back to your neck, then back to your nipples. 

“Cmon, jus’ like that. F-fuck, baby-ughhh-yes, I-I-” His words fall short on your lips as they connect, tongues dancing in the middle together. 

“I-I love y-you” was the last thing you heard before coming on his cock thrusting deeply inside of you and with a few more pumps, Joel was shooting warm ropes of cum inside you. 

Panting underneath him trying to catch your breath, you smooth the curls at the nape of his neck and whisper, “I love you too.”

I love you. 

Of course you wanted to say it months ago, hell, you’ve been waiting to say it since he defended you that night at White Pony. Being with him for the last eight months was nothing short of trying. You butt heads like no one’s business and throw little comments at each other under your breaths and he doesn’t take your shit, as do you his. 

I love you.

It sounded so good coming from him. 

I love you.

✮

Seeing Joel all fucked out and snoring softly in your room with pink sheets and pillowcases surrounding him makes you laugh quietly to yourself, the most southern man you’ve ever met who wasn’t afraid to sleep in a hyper pink room. He always tells you it’s the best sleep he can get but you’re convinced it’s just your mattress he loves. 

A knock on your front door makes you jump slightly. A Saturday morning and someone knocking on your door? Probably the neighborhood kids playing around. Pulling on your black sweatpants and a clean shirt from off the floor, you slink down the stairs and open the front door to a bouquet of roses sitting right at the edge of the stairs. 

What the fuck?

Small rainbows casted onto the wooden porch as the sun shined through it, roses dancing ever so gracefully in the breeze. A card poked through the bubblegum pink bulbs and you could feel your anxiety growing from something you were unsure about. Not many had your address but now that your dad knows where you live, who knows what shit he’d pull. 

“Miss you, baby girl! I’m so proud of you for doing what’s best for you. Hope these get to you when you need them the most. 

-mom” 

She always did have a good intuition of when you needed her the most. You dip inside without making too much noise  to grab your cigarettes and lighter from your purse sitting by the coat rack, closing the front door softly to assure Joel wouldn’t wake. 

Warm tobacco fills your lungs to take the edge off your anxiety and for some reason you couldn’t stop feeling like you needed to go see your mom. She had a cabin out in Michigan right in South Haven near the beach, private and secluded just how she always wanted, that you never grew tired of being in. It’s been years since you’ve got to go due to work and moving all over the place to get away from your mistakes that seemed to follow no matter where you went. Texas was safe, for now at least. 

The slowly burning cigarette was getting towards the end and you crushed the butt against the sidewalk before flicking it into the pebbles by your bushes and groaning at yourself mentally, knowing Joel will see it and give you an earful later about doing that. 

Why shouldn’t you go see your mom? You had the money saved up and it didn’t seem to be too hard to get your boss to agree to give you the time off. Your feet move as fast as they can back inside the house to the counter to set the flowers down and then upstairs to Joel in your bed, sound asleep on his stomach with his face barely visible behind his bicep of his arm tucked under the satin pink pillow. 

Climbing on top of him and basically straddling his ass, you pull the covers off him and rub his back slowly, dragging your nails up and down his skin softly. A couple of mumbles leave his lips as he stirs under you, his other arm reaching backwards and squeezing your leg just enough to realize it was you. 

“Mmmmbabyyyy whasthemaddur?” His cheeks squished together distort his words but by this point you were fluent in half asleep Joel language. 

“I need to ask my boss something but I don’t know what he’ll say.” You giggle and kiss the top of his back and lay your chest on him, your arms at his sides comfortably. His heart was beating faster with every rise and fall of breath he takes in. 

“I was um…I was thinking ya know…I want to go see my mom, in Michigan.” You looked in his direction before continuing. “And I was wondering if I could get maybe a week off? Pleaseeee.” You drag out the last word and start to kiss his back more in hopes he’d comply and give in faster. Was Joel really prepared to tell you no? 

He turns his head the opposite way and coughs as he wakes up more, chuckling at your attempts to butter him up. 

“You, my favorite worker, want a week off? To go on vacation? The nerve!” Joel’s dramatic tone takes you by surprise and you continue kissing his back trying to contain your laughter.

“She lives in Michigan? Must be pretty nice there on the lake- never been but I’ve been to Chicago a few times, real pretty out on the water.” The softness in his voice makes your heart swell a little and before you can stop yourself you ask flat out, “what if you came with me?” 

Joel turns to the side and dumps you onto the bed before sitting up to look at you.

“What?” The smile was long gone now from where it was mere seconds ago on his face.

You push the fluffy comforter out of your sight and meet his eyes.

“Come with me. Let me show you around Michigan and you can meet my mom, maybe.” Everything felt right, it felt like the right time for Joel to meet your mom, having been together for eight months now.

Joel fiddles with the loose thread coming from the cover and you start to get that anxious feeling again.

“I um…I can’t, darlin’...I’m sorry. I just-” He stops but he doesn’t know how to continue, so he doesn’t attempt to say more for what felt like eternity. “With Sarah and everything I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I get it.” Your voice cracks and you sit up facing the wall to hastily wipe your face and pretend like that didn’t just break your heart a little. 

✮

A couple weeks pass and it’s been awkward between you and Joel since he shut down the idea of meeting your mother. It wasn’t like you’d be around her the entire trip but he didn’t give you a chance to explain either. Maybe that was too far for his boundaries. 

With your flight booked and your bags packed sitting by the front door, Joel had been distant at work and didn’t stay for long when he’d come over after work. Was this your punishment for trying to grow with him?

As you dragged your luggage to the driver you booked, you notice Joel’s truck gone from his driveway and your heart drops in your chest. Not even a goodbye, see you when you get back, nothing. 

You get in the back of the car and drive to the airport with tears stinging your eyes. You’ve officially scared him off and he wants nothing to do with you now. 

His phone rings four times before you get his voicemail, that voice is like music to your ears. 

“This is Joel, I uh- I can’t come to the phone right now but leave me a message I call ya back- bye.”

The recording beeps and suddenly you’re speaking exactly what you’re thinking.

 “Joel…it’s me. I um-“ your voice cracks, a tear rolling down your cheek, “-I’m on my way to the airport right now…I just wanted to say bye. I walked over but you weren’t home even though I told you when I was leaving. Why are you doing this to me? I don’t understand…” 

The tears were flowing down your warm face, the driver nervously looking in his rear view mirror to check on you. You hang up the phone angrily before tossing it in your purse. What once was a beautiful view and lovely drive became a cry fest and blurred by tears. 

Within an hour the driver pulls up to the airport and helps you with your stuff, telling you to have a safe trip before driving off. So many couples littered the building inside, scattered off to the side either reuniting or departing, some leaving together. That should’ve been you and Joel. Ugly airport outfits and coffee in hand, laughing at the delusion that riddled your tired brains. 

You plop down on the bench near your gate and pull out your book, the faeries and mortals making it seem so much better than here. 

“You gonna read the whole time we’re in Michigan or?” That fucking voice. 

Joel.

You practically break your neck to turn and look at him, a filthy smirk plastered on his face. 

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[gothic-aesthetic-gal]

Old Scars (Part 1)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I stared despairingly at the huge stack of paperwork my line manager had just slapped down on my desk. I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek. None of my male co-workers had to deal with her extra work. This was such bullshit.

"Ah, you are a life saver, (y/n). What would I do without you?"

Her own work, probably, I thought to myself, sighing in exasperation as she left me to my souless cubicle.

By the time i'd finished up, it was getting cold out. After taking a detour to try and stave off the inevitable return to my shitty apartment, I found myself in front of a particularly expensive shop. My feet were aching from the heels my backwards regional manager insisted on the female admin staff wearing and my head hurt from the tight bun my hair was scraped into. His smirk was etched into my brain, as were his vile words on his latest visit.

"You're a very attractive young lady, even with your face like that. Your body makes up for it."

I felt pure rage rising up again at the memory. It was the way he's said it as though he truly believed it was a compliment. The laughter of my coworkers rang in my ears. To them it was all a big joke and I was just too uptight to appreciate it.

What I wouldn't give to see the area manager humbled one day... but that was pure fantasy and I knew it. I wondered what he'd buy with his overinflated christmas bonus this time, while we were all given a meeting to explain why they couldn't justify a minor pay rise to ease the cost of living crisis in Gotham.

The twinkling lights of the high end window displays were a beautiful contrast to the bleary grey outside, and after another hellish day in the purgatory which was the cubicle farm, my heart warmed a little. Everything in the store was definitely well out of my meagre price range, but the inner child in me was drawn in to look at all the pretty evening dresses and jewellery. I shrugged to myself, figuring there's never any harm in window-shopping and a little indulgent fantasy. Even if I could afford any of the opulent dresses, half of them were really ball gowns, and what events was I ever invited to where you'd need a dress like that? No, those sort of parties were for Gotham's social elite - charity fundraisers, galas and that sort of thing, no doubt.

I was half expecting a staff member to immediately spot me in my regular civilian garb and herd me back out of the door like a stray dog but they seemed to be dealing with a particularly difficult customer at the tills. She was waving her arms around and pulling a "do you know who my husband is?".

I stifled a laugh at the image of her, in her ridiculous fur coat shouting frantically and looking like she was about to give herself a anyeurism, if the prominent vein on her forehead was anything to go by. I turned away from her soap operatics and back to the rails of clothes in front of me. I gently touched the fabrics, marvelling at the softness of the richest velvet. Gazing at cool silk like rippling water; nothing like the cheap imitation the rest of us were accustomed to. I got drawn into my own little world imagining who might wear each dress and for what occasion.

"Can I help you with something?"

The voice pulled out the rug on my little escape instantly. I felt anxiety rising in my chest but resolved not to panic completely.

"Oh, I was just browsing..." I said, faking the best dismissive tone I could.

"You're sure, I'd be more than happy to help. Do you want to try anything?" She pressed, a friendly tone rather than the suspicion I had anticipated.

Perhaps my work suit was giving a higher-end impression than I had realised... or maybe she was new here.

"This one is particularly lovely, don't you think?" She gestured to the garment I unknowingly had a hand on, pausing as she'd approached. She wasn't wrong, it was a rich purple, ridiculous really, with layers and layers of tule skirting, but somehow the fine cut and quality of the fabric, and the detailing made it look classy rather than like something out of 'my big fat gypsy wedding'.

When was I ever going to get the chance to try on a literal ball gown? I decided to play into it, after all, I could always say I needed to go away and review my options. They couldn't make me buy it.

"It is lovely," I murmured.

"Do you want to try it on?"

"If it isn't too much trouble..."

Before I knew it, I was being whisked into a dressing room. The shop girl came whirling in with the dress and began unfastening it for me.

"Shoe size?" She asked briskly.

I hurriedly blurted out my answer and she dashed back onto the floor.

I kicked off my uncomfortable work heels and removed my blazer, skirt and scarf. Somehow I felt even more like an imposter standing there in just my undergarments and a pair of tights. I hurriedly pulled the dress up and held it in place. Before I knew it, she'd returned and began fastening me up at the back.

I gasped, both from the air being pushed out of my lungs as she cinched the hidden corsetry, and in awe at what I saw in the mirror. I had never had particularly wonderful self-image, but since the accident, I'd really shrunk into the background. I had always been shy, but i'd become a total wallflower these days. I hated the public-facing parts of my job - if it was telephone or email correspondence, people couldn't react in their myriad shitty ways to my facial scarring, but sometimes I was on front desk duty. Those were the worst days for me.

She made a minor adjustment to my hair, pulling a few strands loose around my face. To my surprise, she hesitated as she saw my scars up close, but didn't recoil, or pull more hair out to try and hide them. Her delicate fingers lingered for a moment, hovering above where my eyebrow was split into three by the forks of red lightning which were still deeply scored into my skin. I had mostly made my peace with it, but it was other peoples' reactions to my face that caused me the most pain. The grimaces, the staring, looking startled, regarding me with pity, strangers asking me what happened, it could all just be too damn much some days. It was a rare and beautiful thing to have someone not react negatively in some way.

I knew I was lucky to still be in the land of the living, and that I was in remarkable shape considering what happened that day, but it had left an inescapable mark. I anxiously ran my fingers over my temple, over the metal plate holding my skull together somewhere beneath the skin. She pulled her own hand back away slowly.

"You look beautiful, miss," she smiled with a genuine warmth that made me begin to believe it. It seemed as though she could sense my sudden swell of insecurity.

The shop girl was young, couldn't be more than sevetneen or eighteen, and I prayed that she somehow retained her gentleness in a city as ugly as Gotham.

"Thank you," I said, tearing up a little.

The dress itself was surprisingly lightweight and not like some kind of Victorian horror complete with a hoop skirt. Instead, it looked quite modern, and had a lot of volume in the skirt due to the layers of tulle fabric, which meant that you could still dance with ease. I did a little twirl for good measure, watching how it flowed and moved around my form. The shop girl smiled at my childlike delight.

Unfortunately, my elation was shattered in an instant. A chorus of screams and panicked shouts, followed by a spray of gunfire hit us like a slap to the face. The shop girl's eyes widened in confusion and panic, and I grasped onto her arm to steady myself. We strained our ears, trying to make out what exactly was happening. My brain was struggling to make the jump from the moment I had just been experiencing to the very real danger we were now thrust into.

After a couple of agonising seconds, there was another round of shots, and I heard a gruff male voice shout;

"Everybody get down!"

"Try to stay calm," I whispered, my own voice shaking.

I herded us into the corner of the booth and desperately gestured for her to undo the corset, not wanting to have to run for my life in the stupid dress. I could hear crashing and footsteps, as though the place was being ransacked and bit the inside of my cheek as the girl shakily tried to loosen the cord for me.

"Check in the back, we don't want anyone calling the cops!" came a voice which sounded unsettlingly close by.

Suddenly, someone burst through the door into the dressing room. We froze, praying whoever it was, wouldn't round the corner, but sadly it was too late. The scraping metallic sound of the curtains of each booth being flung aside echoed around the room. I counted each one, feeling as though my heart had stopped beating altogether, sick with anticipation. They were going left to right, and would reach us soon enough.

The curtain to our booth was torn to the side, and an enormous man stood in the light. The shop girl let out a yelp of terror as she huddled behind me with her head in her hands.

"Found two hideaways!" He yelled out, lurching forward to grab at us.

In a blind panic, my body blocking him from the terrified girl behind me, I kicked and struck out like a feral street cat stuck in a trap. I got a few solid kicks in but was ultimately not match for the man towering over us.

"Quit struggling you stupid bitch," he spat, striking me across the face.

Dazed, and with my eye stinging already, I felt another pair of hands grasp me and haul me out into the open. The barrel of a gun was quickly jammed into the small of my back.

"Stop causing trouble if you want to live," he hissed.

A third figure appeared and roughly forced the girl to her feet as well.

"This one looks so scared she might piss herself," he chuckled.

"Leave her the fuck alone," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ooo, you got a mouth on you, huh, rich girl?" Said the one holding me at gunpoint.

"Mm the boss ain't gonna like that, maybe we should gag her," one of his companions snorted.

"Nah, leave it. I wanna see what he does if she gives him any back talk," crowed the third one.

They marched us out onto the marble of the shop floor. Both shoes had come off the moment i'd started to struggle against our attackers and the tiling felt cold as ice beneath my unsteady feet. I saw that there were three other men holding up the cashiers and the handful of customers as they huddled together in one corner.

"Look what we found in the back," announced the biggest of the three men, shoving us forward.

It was only then that I noticed everyone's attention seemed to be drawn to one man, a man who I couldn't yet see, on account of him facing away from us as he nonchalantly rifled through the nearest rack of clothing.

He was a fairly tall man, perhaps a little over six feet, wearing a long coat. It was well in need of a wash, covered in dirt and ashy, yet still obviously purple in colour - though perhaps not the vibrant purple it once was. His hair could best be described as messy; a straggly mop of green waves, with his natural brown hair showing through at the roots and in patches. His body language was odd, the way he held himself, with his shoulders hunched, unsettled me.

As he turned around, to see what his henchmen had brought in, I felt a pang of total despair. I recognised his streaky painted face from a recent news broadcast, and I knew instantly that we were in deep trouble. This was the man they called 'the joker'. I could hear the poor shop girl sobbing behind me somewhere, barely hiding her sheer terror.

"Ah more guests for our little party," he exclaimed, his voice and intonation seeming as erratic as his physical movements.

"What you want us to do with them, boss?" Grunted the shorter goon to my left.

"Put them with the others," he gestured, stalking forward.

I turned to watch as he approached the shop girl, my heart in my throat.

"And who do we have here?" He asked, in a tone mimicking gentleness, which was even more unsettling than his usual, more sinister way of talking.

"S-sarah," she choked out between sobs.

"S-sarah? What's wrong s-sarah? Are you s-scared?" He cooed, practically circling her like a big cat.

I felt sick watching him toy with her, and anger began to rise in my chest. Sarah nodded defeatedly.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Oh now why would you think we are gonna do that?" He exclaimed.

She didn't seem to know how to answer.

"Just do everything we ask, and some of you will live," he grinned patting her on the head, "put her with the rest," he gestured dramatically to the others in the corner.

His goons did as he asked and shifted her to where the others were cowering in the corner. I bit my tongue as his attention now shifted to me.

"My my, what a pretty dress, I love the colour," he purred, barely three strides away from me now.

I said nothing, hoping he would somehow just lose interest. There was still the largest goon stood beside me, pistol jammed into my lower spine so I didn't want to antagonise either of them.

He got close enough to reach out and touch me, pulling off one of his leather gloves with his teeth. The red painted smile, already smeared and smudged, left its mark on his finger tips with the clumsiness of his action. I was trying very hard to keep a steady breath, refusing to panic as I knew it would only worsen my situation.

"What's the matter? Are you shy?" He asked, that fake empathetic tone creeping in again.

"No, I just don't find that a hostage situation lends itself to free and easy conversation," I snapped back, unable to suppress my anger fully.

He tilted his head to the side, a glint in his dark brown eyes as they searched my face, scanning, analysing. In defiance, I stared right back.

In my struggle with his henchmen, my face had become half obscured by the hair which had come loose from my bun, and my hands being behind my back, I had not been able to move it out of the way.

Suddenly breaking his stillness, he reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a knife. The switch blade swung open with a characteristic clack. I bit my tongue even harder to try and subdue my panic.

He reached out his ungloved hand to rougly grasp my face. Everything within me was screaming to struggle free, to run for the hills, but I was stuck. I'd be shot down before I made it two steps, I knew that.

"You are beautiful," he mused, " tell me, does this," he moved the knife barely an inch from my face, "does this, scare you?"

I grimaced, unable to stop myself from recoiling at his skin touching my own.

"Do you ever wonder what life is like for the ugly?" He asked, flatly.

Undeterred by my shrinking away from his touch, he roughly used his fingers to comb my fallen hair back away from my face. Once the curtain of hair was lifted, my scars were revealed, and his face took on a curious, unreadable riot of emotion for a split-second.

"What's the matter, am I not as beautiful as you thought?" I muttered sarcastically, wanting to pre-empt his inevitable mockery.

He clearly liked to pick people apart, to try and tap into their biggest fears, so it seemed a sure thing that he would have plenty to say about my face. This only made me all the more dumbfounded when he put away the knife and his grasp on my face melted into something altogether tender.

His fingertips gently brushed over the deep valleys of my old wounds as though he was trying to read my story. I felt him follow the fork from my hairline at my temple all the way down, bridging my eye, down my cheek to the point mid way along the lefthand side of my jaw where it ended. As he did so, I saw for the first time up close his own grisly scars which formed a sort of permanent smile. The makeup he applied over the top made it harder to see from afar just how extensive they were. I knew from my own experience that the wounds had been more than skin deep, into deep muscle tissue. You could tell by how raised and pitted they were.

The man holding me at gunpoint seemed not to have picked up on this sudden change of pace, as he had plenty to say, even if the joker didn't.

"I shoulda warned you, she's a butterface," he chuckled, "you should do the other side to match, I already made a start," he gestured to the split eyebrow and puffy eye he'd given me on my good side.

The joker's body language rapidly changed again. I felt him tense up, even in his fingers against my cheek. It was as though every fibre in his body was taught suddenly, like he was a rubber band about to snap. His eyes seemed to darken, his irises almost like black pools against the black paint encircling them. I was suddenly very afraid.

He looked down at my face with an air of detachement, his tongue flicking against the inner corner of his lip.

"Would you excuse me for a second, doll?" He grinned, before his smile dropped flat again the moment he straightened up to full height.

"Give me the gun," he comanded of his goon.

"But boss..." the burly man protested, before removing it from my back and reluctantly handing it over.

There was a deafening crack and the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils as my ears rang. Some of the hostages cried out in fear and for a moment I thought he must have shot me. I stumbled on the stupid dress, falling to the floor with a crash, dazed, my ears still ringing as I rolled onto my side, preparing for my seemingly imminent death.

Unexpectedly, my vision began to clear and the ringing dimmed down enough that I could try to collect my thoughts. I became aware of another figure in front of me on the floor. Someone was roughly pulling me upwards, trying to get me back on my feet.

"Up you get!"

Suddenly, I managed to re-engage my muscles enough to stand, swaying on legs that felt like jelly.

"There you go, see? You're fine," came a low voice to my left, practically right into my ear. I blinked hard as I began to make sense of what had just happened.

The joker shifted so that he was stood in front of me again, and gripped a hand under my jaw so that he could look me in the face. He turned my somewhat vacant face this way and that, as though he was checking I was still in there.

"Whoops! Probably should've told you to stick your fingers in your ears," he wheezed with laughter, releasing my face and waving the gun around casually.

My lingering confusion was cleared up when I realised the other figure on the floor was his own man. The others looked on, some unfased, some clearly very uncomfortable at this sudden decision to remove him from the equation entirely. He had shot him point blank, I couldn't bring myself to believe that it was in reaction to his insults. Surely this was just some kind of mind game going far beyond my comprehension... I didn't feel reasurred, I definitely didn't feel flattered, if anything it just showed the true unpredictability of the psychopath in front of me.

"Right, now that minor... detour is over, I want you all to stay calm, while we execute out little plan," he comanded, gesturing to the hostages.

Two of his men forced grenades into peoples shaking hands, pulling the pins so that they were forced to hold on to them, or risk them detonating. They produced a roll of duct tape and wound it around each pair of hands, so there was no chance of them tossing the grenades away from the group either. The others continued to stuff duffle bags full with the cash from the registers, and the jewellery from the display cases. I cursed the slow response time of the GCPD, although there was never a gurantee that their arrival wouldn't cause more of a bloodbath, since so many of them liked to shoot first and ask questions later. They had far too lenient of a threshold for 'collateral damage'.

I was expecting to be forcibly handed my own grenade, but instead the joker gestured to me. The way in which he waved me over was completely antithetical to the situation unfolding around us; it was so casual, as though we were long-time friends. Not seeing another choice, I gingerly approached him, and he, losing patience, roughly grabbed me by the arm and yanked me closer to him.

"These lovely people can stay here, but, uh, you..." he lingered on the word looking me up and down, as he taped my hands together in front of my body, "you, are coming along for the ride".

"Why?!" Was all I managed to get out as he shoved me roughly toward the front of the store.

He laughed, sending a fresh chill down my spine.

"Well, we have an opening, consider yourself the newest member of our operation," he said in a congratulatory tone.

Before I could respond at all, my head reeling in total panic, I was being tugged out of the door with my arms feeling like they were going to pop out of the sockets.

[kgymstlle]

just saying

post college au / suna rintarou x fem! reader

— you should leave him cause it really makes me sick!



"i just washed that." suna says as you cry on his living room pillow. you continue to do so though, and upon pulling back, the pillow had stains of mascara where your eyes had been seconds ago.

"sorry." you apologize, rubbing the fabric with the sleeve of your sweater. "you do realize you're making it worse, right?"

you immediately stop. "i'm sorr—"

"apologize one more time and i'll kick your ass out of my apartment." he cuts you off. sure it was harsh, but suna has always been this way. it was all in good faith though— he cares about you a lot, really, but being all soft and using a gentle tone wasn't exactly something he was good at, even if he tried really hard to. tough love, if you will.

feeling suna's piercing gaze, you bring your eyes to meet his. "what did he do this time?"

"he broke up with me." for the nth time, suna thought.

tears voluntarily rolled down your face yet again, and all you heard in response from the boy was a sigh. he wanted to say i told you so— you're better off without him. and with me instead...? shit. he's still inlove with you.

but he's your best friend. exactly. therefore he knows you better, and he'll treat you better. it makes him sick. he thinks you should leave your no-good-(ex)boyfriend for good, and not get back together within a week of calling it quits like the continuous, year long cycle you're stuck in.

"we fought. we were on a date, but he made me pay...said he forgot his wallet at home. he also arrived pretty late."

a total loser, suna thought. you were already struggling to earn a living and despite being aware of this he's still squeezing every penny you have left. that bastard barely takes you out too— come on, the flag is practically waving crimson. i would never do that to you though, the boy thought as he stared at your distraught state.

you paused for a while. "he texted me an hour before i got here. he says that he still loves me." bullshit. suna thought. he knows that son of a bitch is cheating on you. that man knows how to fabricate his words, lying to you since the very beginning. when you gushed about your ex's big house and how he lives all alone, it was quickly debunked when suna drove by that said house by chance... and saw a woman through the window which he later found out was the jerk's mother. he never told you that though, to save you from the embarrassment.

"you don't need him, y/n."

surprised by his words, you tilt your head. "wow. i know you mean well rinrin, but...wow."

exactly. i mean well. i'll also help you get over it— wait, is this still right? the boy shook his head. keep it together, rintarou.

"just saying." he muttered in response, eyeing your next move. you roll your eyes. "anyway, i think i've come to the realization that i've overreacted quite a bit— he did have a very tiring day... and i was so pushy that it probably irritated him."

for the love of god you need to stop blaming yourself for every inconvenient thing that happens. you stand up and wipe your now dry face with your sleeve to remove the smudged makeup. this is the part where suna sighs, he knows you're going to fall right back into your ex's trap.

you fix your composure and hug suna.

"thanks, rinrin. for always putting up with me and my problems." for you? always. he thought. with a few taps on your phone, you slip it into your pocket and head to the door. he already knows what you're about to do.

"when you change your mind, i'll be waiting." you hear him behind you, still seated in the living room couch. you nod at him and smile. "mhm. thanks rinrin, i owe you one."

when you shut the door, suna puts his hand on his forehead and sighs. "i'll be waiting." he repeats. cause after all, he's better than your ex will ever be.....just saying.

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS More,Blood Genteiban DVD Translation ☽ Mini Drama I (Kou, Subaru, Laito)

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD 限定版 SPECIAL DISK II Mini Drama I Voiced by Kimura Ryōhei (Kou), Kondō Takashi (Subaru), Hirakawa Daisuke (Laito) English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (thank you @uzi-boozii for providing the audio!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm back with another anime mini drama! This one's the first one of the three More,Blood mini drama CDs, featuring Kou, Subaru, and Laito. I can't stress enough that I love these 'behind-the-scenes' kind of CDs... and how sad I am that Ruki didn't get the exposure his character deserved in the mini drama he appears in (which is coming later...) ( -᷅ ⤙ -᷄ )=3

Anyway, next up is the More,Blood mini drama featuring Yuma, Shuu, and Reiji! Have fun listening and reading along ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[This drama takes place after Subaru and Kou have their moment with Yui on the roof of the academy building.]

00:00 Subaru: Tch! Fuck, this is bullshit.

Laito: Ooh… Subaru. What were you doing on the rooftop terrace? 

S: That’s none of your business.

[Laito sniffs the air.]

L: This scent… is Bitchlet’s.

[Subaru is startled.]

L: Hmm… I see. Subaru, you were doing naughty things with Bitchlet on that roof! Everyone’s been starving ever since she left. To keep her all to yourself like that… That’s just mean.

S: That’s bullshit!

[Subaru punches a wall, debris falling to the floor.]

S: Fuck! You’re pissing me off.

L: Ah, you’ve punched a hole in the wall again… Someone’s cranky today. Or are you perhaps a bit too turned on after tasting Bitchlet’s blood again? Hehe.

S: I’m not.

L: Then I suppose you’re upset that the Mukamis took her away from us?

S: I just can’t stand them.

L: But the fact that Bitchlet’s coming to school with them… she must be living with them, right? She’s kept hostage in that house, letting those guys do whatever they want with her from dusk ‘till dawn… The four of them share her, take turns biting her… or maybe they all bite her all at the same time? Hehe.

S: Shut up.

L: At first she’ll resist, but eventually she’ll offer her body to them… Oh, I wonder about the faces she makes when they feed on her, the pleasurable noises that must spill from her lips… Ah, it’s just too much…

S: I told you to shut up!

[Subaru shoves Laito.]

02:09 L: Oh, Subaru, don’t get so upset!

S: Fuck off! Do you think she wants to be their plaything?

L: Hehe. I wonder. People need change, I guess, and having a good time with them might stimulate her a little. However…

S: Heh. So you’re alright with those Mukami bastards taking her away?

L: Oh, no, not at all! Subaru, you’re so thickheaded.

S: Tch. Watch your words.

L: There’s nothing wrong with making the best out of a situation, right? That’s why I always try to put my personal enjoyment first. Well, I think I’ll go take a sip of her as well. She’s still on the rooftop, isn’t she?

S: No, you should leave her be.

L: Huh, why? Isn’t it a bit unfair that you’re the only one getting to enjoy her?

S: She’s still with him.

L: Who? Oh, I see… So that’s why you were upset, Subaru. Mukami Kou’s the one pleasuring her up there…

S: Ugh.

L: First, you took her blood, Subaru, and now he’s biting her too. Ah, I wonder how she’s feeling right now…

S: Motherfucker…

L: Someone else’s fangs are piercing her skin right now… Heh. How arousing.

S: Go get turned on somewhere else, you fucking pervert.

04:01 L: Huh? Don’t you want to come with me, Subaru?

S: Fuck off! Leave me alone.

[Subaru walks away.]

L: Well, I suppose Subaru has said it before.

It’s no fun hogging resources. I think I’ll go say ‘hi’ to Bitchlet…

[Laito goes to the rooftop and sees Kou.]

L: Ooh, wait a minute—she’s unconscious! If you keep feeding on her like that, she’ll die, you know.

Kou: What’s this all of a sudden? This is none of your business. We’re taking good care of our little Masochistic Kitten… in our own way, that is.

L: You’re saying that, but her face is white as a sheet. You Mukamis get pretty rough when you feed, don’t you?

K: That’s not something I want to hear from you Sakamaki scum. Besides, I’m not the only one who bit her just now.

L: You mean Subaru?

K: Yeah, yeah. Subaru was more violent than I was, so you might want to tell him off instead.

L: So that means you just stood by as he took Bitchlet from you…

K: Don’t misunderstand. I purposely handed her over. Subaru wanted her so badly, but he’s too shy to just be honest and say so. I felt a little bad for him, is all.

L: Hmm.

[Laito walks over to Yui.]

L: Even then… Heh. You’re pretty naughty yourself.

K: Huh?

L: You covered up Subaru’s bite marks with your own. Your desire to monopolise her is on full display.

06:04 K: And how are those two things connected?

L: Something precious was taken away from you and it made you sad. You used to be human, so I suppose you’re subject to those cliched emotions.

K: Stop it. You’re imagining things. You know that we were once human, though…

L: I could tell by your scent. Besides, you seem to need Bitchlet for something. What are you scheming? You guys reek of suspicion.

K: You’re awfully good at sticking your nose in other people’s business, Laito. Well, you’ll find out soon enough.

L: Hmm. I’ll just have to kill some time until then. But hey, Bitchlet’s still out like a light. Just when I thought the three of us could have a good time together….

K: Oh, wow. Are you really alright with this?

L: Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing her writhe in agony because of my fangs. I just wanted to see her writhing because of someone else’s, for once.

K: Seems like you’re the one that’s fucked up…

L: Don’t kill her, though. I was looking forward to playing with her again when you guys are done with her.

K: You really are a pervert. It’s disgusting. Just what I expect from an aristocratic brat. And as I said before, I assure you we won’t kill her.

L: So if you kill her, you can’t fulfil your plans. Is that it?

K: Wouldn’t you like to know?

L: Oh, well. Be careful, though. You’re not the only ones after her blood. There are vampires out there who are quite upset about their parched throats. Hehe.

08:08 K: You say that as if you don’t have anything to do with it.

L: Hmm… That’s not entirely true, either. I just don’t think it’s fun when she’s continuously passed around like that. I’ll have to wait for her a little longer, but I’ll be sure to enjoy myself in the meantime. Hehe.

[Laito walks off.]

K: You’re only now behaving like you have all the time in the world…

[Kou walks over to Yui and lifts her up.]

K: Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. Until I become Adam, that is. And I will become Adam. If only to prove myself to the man who gave me my freedom. Right, my little kitten?

[bleedingcoffee42]

The only thing I'm taking away from all of these new files is that the men of Easy company gossiped like a bunch of highschoolers.

And I love it.

THEY DID. And it doesn't help that Ambrose has an agenda for the interviews which is A)Talk shit about Sobel B)Tell me about Mr. Mysterious Ron Spears and I'll cut you off if you actually liked him C)Was Lewis Nixon always drunk? D) fangirl over Webster and try to get the guy he was interviewing to agree with him.

AND Then there was the reunion where some guys got a 13 chapter preview and others didn't. THEN the reunion when the book came out which is implied to be like a book club gone nuclear. And all the letters to Ambrose apologizing on behalf of their friends which means it got back to Ambrose somehow the boys were pissed.

AND MY FAVORITE BULLSHIT is the ye old screenshot of private conversations circa 1990s which was Ambrose photocopying everything and sending it to Winters and Winters immediately coming out of the unsuspected sender's mailbox with a folding chair to set them straight, with documentation. Dick sent Lip a nasty letter. Hit General Matheson with a frickin 'Maybe you're old and your memory is shit here is the map to refresh your memory' and the poor West Pointer from Fox company who tried to step in and say Henry Jones was super loved by his men when he died and he didn't remember the patrols going like that only to have Dick slap back. It's wild.

I don't know how these guys survived this book.

And Nix IS the smartest man ever for just Noping out of this bullshit. And Sparky is honestly super polite about it even though Dick goes into harassment territory to get him to talk to Ambrose/Show up for the reunion/get interviewed. I honestly think Ron's wife left the phone off the hook when they went to Montana because her husband already had major heart surgery and was talking he was on death's doorstep and talking to Dick more than likely got him riled up and had him popping blood pressure pills like TicTacs.

I do want to go back in time and fight Ambrose on Lipton's lawn. Chalk it up to an affront on my professionalism for how he conducts interviews. Plus how everyone tried to protect Compton, Ambrose even goes in saying 'I'm not sure how I'm going to write this' and then goes about it in the worst possible way so that his mailbox is filled with Letters of 'YOU CAN NOT PUT THIS IN PRINT'.

But up until this time, up until Ambrose stepped in, they were already all creating these different narratives of how things went down. 30 ft away in one foxhole dudes were probably gossiping.

Buck Taylor was the last one I read who sends Dick a letter and the gist of it it "So..I am not dead like the rumors say. I didn't die in a plane crash in the Pacific. I was working for the CIA. I have no idea where anyone got that?" NO IDEA EITHER man.

It's wild. I'm loving it.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Look! Up in the Sky!

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Reader

Description: It's hard, making a name for yourself as an investigative journalist in a city as big as Metropolis. It seems like everyone and everything is against you, just because you weren't born and raised in Metropolis. But you're determined to make it. When a run-of-the-mill article turns into a hostage situation with armed criminals, you're not sure you'll be making it out of this situation alive. Can a run-in with Metropolis' own Superman light the flames of your passion once more? Or are you destined to pack up and go back home?

Disclaimers: DC canon-typical violence. Armed gunmen. Some language.

Warnings: Like most of my fics, this fic features a Female!Reader

Word Count: 3313

Author Note: Hiya lovelies! I've been thinking about this fic for a long time. I started writing it sometime early this year and never actually got very far. Several rewrites later and here we are!

First and foremost, I want to dedicate this story to the beautiful @sarahsmi13s, since it is her birthday! Vinny! Happiest of birthdays to you! I hope the upcoming year is bright and filled with as much joy as you've brought to me!

Second, I feel like I am permanently obligated to thank @horseshoegirl for being the Comma Queen she is and making sure my ramblings are well-written and actually make sense. This fic wouldn't be possible without you, Lucky!

This is going to be a multi-part story. Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

"I'm sorry, he what?!"

The mumbling on the other end of the phone makes you even angrier and more frustrated than ever. The frustration isn't new to you, not at all. It's part and parcel of being one of The Daily Planet's investigative journalists. The other thing the Planet appreciates in its journalists is people who have a nose for stories. You think you have one. Which is why everything is telling you that Peabody is prevaricating because he's trying to hide something.

"I understand your position, Mr. Peabody, but your contact is my biggest informant. If we don't have his testimonial, we'll never be able to publish this article on LexCorp."

There's more irate, increasingly loud yelling spilling down the speaker, but you could care less. You've been working on this article for months, carefully building layer upon layer of evidence, crafting the perfect hard-hitting expose. You're not taking his bullshit at face value anymore. Your mind is whirling as you lean back in your chair. Peabody is still spilling excuses into your ear, not that you care. Maybe you’re a little rough and brusque with Peabody as you hang up, but something about this situation is pinging in your head.

Your office is a bright space, all white walls, glass panes and metallic accents. From up on the 68th floor, Metropolis looks like a heaving anthill. Across the cityscape, another skyscraper glints tauntingly at you. You know Luthor is wrapped up in this. Okay, sure, corporate espionage isn’t exactly his deal, but who else could it be? You’ve carefully counted out every other potential culprit. Only Luthor is left.  Turning around, there’s an unholy rage in your countenance as you glare down at the twisted mess taking over your walls. There are newspaper clippings, articles, string and scribbled notes all over the walls. Just looking at it is sometimes enough to give you a headache. But you desperately need to get to the bottom of this situation. There must be a reason why all roads seemingly lead to Lex Luthor’s shining obelisk to his ego. You wouldn't be surprised if Peabody is clamming up because someone is blackmailing him.

Before you can further dig into the LexCorp situation, a whistle rings out through the air. You're the newest investigative journalist at the Daily Planet. It means you have the smallest office with half-broken heating and air conditioning, which nobody else wanted. It’s also the office furthest away from the bullpen.

The editor-in-chief of the Planet, a gruff, peppery older man named Perry White, only calls all of you together if there is something big brewing in Metropolis. You have to shove your way to the front of the circle loosely gathered around Perry. You're short, so you couldn’t see over the crowd if you tried.

“Alright, alright, settle down you lot.”

Perry's voice is gruff, carrying the tones of a person who grew up in Metropolis or one of its boroughs. Of course, most of the office hails from Metropolis. Sometimes you think your upbringing in the cornfields of Iowa has something to do with your distance from the other journalists on staff. After all, despite living in Metropolis for the past five years, your voice still holds the slightest twang. You can dress like a Metropolis professional, walk like one, and talk like one, but everyone makes it abundantly obvious you will never be a citizen of Metropolis.

The hazing is par for the course. You’ve seen more than your fair share in the three months since you started at The Daily Planet. The source of your struggles is, you’re sure, one person. She’s standing at the other end of the circle of reporters waiting with baited breath as Perry doles out assignments.

Natasha Trace.

She gets all of the best assignments from Perry, just because she’s his niece or something like that. The vindictive smirk she gives you as she accepts the latest city hall press conference is proof. Your own assignment is a little more dangerous, 300 words on the newest homeless shelter opening in Southside. According to the mayor, Southside isn’t dangerous anymore, but you don’t believe him. Perry quotes the same thing every chance he can get, especially because he sends reporters out to Southside pretty often. It’s all part of the Planet’s “For the People” reporting strategy. Every day, you hear people talking about another mugging or shooting or what have you. So you’re under no assumptions that Perry and Natasha are giving you an assignment they want you to succeed in.

You're cursing them more and more the next day when you're kneeling with a puddle of spilled tomato soup seeping into your sensible dark trousers. It was just your luck that masked gunmen waltzed into the shelter in the middle of your interview, wasn’t it?

 It was also just your luck that one of them had sent a spray of bullets into the air the moment hands went up. Cue some well-deserved screaming and a near-stampede for the doors, and you’d been pushed to the floor. So now you’re crouching in spilled soup with your hands up, trying and failing to moderate your breathing.

What the hell does a soup kitchen in Southside have for a gang of armed robbers, anyway? It’s not like it has much money. After all, this is only one of a string of new food shelters opening up in Metropolis. They’ve all been funded by the government, and they’re all supposed to be as clean as can be. Supposed to be, anyway. Obviously something isn’t right in the state of Denmark.

What’s just as interesting is the sight of the photographer you’ve been sent to the shelter with. Mickey Garcia is one of the Planet’s best. He’s got an eye for taking those photographs nobody else can. You’re not sure why Perry sent him with you. Usually he’s buddy-buddy with Natasha. He’s probably wishing he were with Natasha at City Hall right now. You know you are. But he doesn’t look scared or worried. He’s just kneeling in the soup next to you, hands up with his head cocked to the side and eyes staring into the distance.

It’s almost like he expects the police to come roaring up. Just as the lead invader turns his head, there’s a rush of wind and you see an imperceptible smirk on his face before he disappears between one blink and the next. You can smell ozone in the air, bitingly sharp, but it seems like nobody else notices but you.

Who the hell is Mickey Garcia? You almost wish you were hiding behind one of the tables. Because then you can pull out your notebook and start writing. Instead, it seems like all you have is your eyes and ears. How did he disappear so quickly? Metahumans aren’t exactly new in the world (or well, at least in the country). You remember reading about metahuman related events across the country. After all, everyone knows about Gotham City’s Bat. But recently there have been more and more reports. A meta-human in red-and-gold streaking through Central City. Villains with the power to freeze anything in its tracks and heroes with the power of the seven seas and beyond. And of course, everyone has seen the fluttering blue cape of Metropolis’ own metahuman.

So where does that leave you? Wishing for Superman, as you’ve heard him called, to save you? You’re not even sure he’ll show at all. There have to be a million other things happening in Metropolis more important.

“ALL OF YOU ON THE FLOOR!”

You’re not on the floor long when a hand grabs you by your hair and yanks you up.

“What do we have here?” A greasy voice growls the words into your ear as cold metal presses into your temple. “A little reporter eagerly waiting for a scoop?”

You shudder, your skin crawling at the hunger in this man’s voice as he traces his index finger up and down your throat. Your press badge thwaps against your chest with every movement.

“P-please.” You’re trembling in earnest, teeth chattering. “These people are innocent, th-they have no money. They’re here to get some food. The only money the shelter has is for food.”

His cackle chills you to the bone. “Oh, you’re so naive, you sweet little thing.”

“We’re not here for the shelter’s money. We’re here for the city’s money.” He grins, blowing his foul-smelling breath in your face. “And if the city doesn’t cough up the goods, we’ll just take you in exchange.”

“And what if he comes to save us?”

You’re not sure who asks, but it sparks a rising tide of questions. People are shouting the questions out, and the men grow angrier and angrier. From your new vantage point with a barrel pressed to your temple you can see how uneasy they actually are. Their fingers tighten around the weaponry, paling at the joints as they grip at the metal. The more people ask, bolstered by the sounds of the sirens outside and the crackle of voices through bullhorns, the angrier your captor gets.

“All of you, shut up!” It's a roar of sound which leaves your ears ringing. The gun hurts as it presses into your throat. It’s hard to breathe, to swallow, to think. Something tells you you're not getting out of this stand-off alive. Your pulse is thudding in your ears and your chest aches. You hear the tell-tale click and your eyes are screwed closed.

Please. Please. Please. I promise I'll be better. I promise I'll be a better daughter, a better employee.

You're not sure who you're praying to, but you’re praying nonetheless.

There's so much I haven’t done yet.

It shouldn’t be so sad, thinking about how pathetic your life is - how empty it is. You're braced to hear the sound of a gunshot, braced to feel pain and then feel nothing ever again. You can feel the silk of your blouse, the expensive one you never wear, sticking to your back as you heave in thready, unsteady breaths.

It's almost anticlimactic, the way it happens. You smell the same sharp ozone scent you did earlier and the hand wrapped around your throat, the gun pressed to the hinge of your jaw disappears. You keep your eyes screwed shut, trying to ignore the yells of pain and cut-off curses as people get beaten up. You keep expecting to feel the acute pain of a bullet lancing through you, burning through your skin. But you feel nothing. You hear nothing, and obviously all you can see is the underside of your own eyelids.

“Miss, you can open your eyes now. It's all going to be okay.” 

You know what this voice is saying as you stand stiff-backed in the center of the room. Your muscles are locked in place and your hands are curled into fists at your side. You're not sure you could move if you tried to.

The hands that hold yours are warm, warmer than they have any right to be. But they feel good, and you can feel yourself relaxing into the touch. When your eyes open, you're not sure what you expected to see. But what you get is Metropolis's own Superman. He is smiling at you, pearly teeth on display, big brown eyes gentle as he talks you out of your panic. You're enraptured by how his dark hair curls just so over his forehead and how his jaw is so well-defined it could cut diamond.

More than anything, you wish you were still holding your notebook and pen or a dictaphone or anything. If there was anyone you want to interview here and now, it's him. But something is bothering you about him. He looks oddly familiar, something in the turn of his cheek and the fall of his hair.

Your statement to MCPD takes the longest. Long after all the other hostages have headed home or been shuttled to other shelters in the city, you stand, ignoring the way tomato soup is crusting on your clothes and how your fingers ache. Maybe your statement wouldn’t have taken quite so long if you weren’t trying to interview your interviewer back. In any case, by the time your throat is dry and aching, it’s late, approaching midnight and the only person left other than police personnel is Superman.

“A-are you okay, Miss?” 

You blink at his words, because he sounds oddly bashful, and that is a look you never expected to see on a superhero’s face.

“I’m fine.” You grin, the motion only halfway genuine. “I'm just about to head out. I'm sure a superhero like you has better things to do, other people to save and whatnot.”

“U-um, no actually.” He tips his head to the side, using his hand to fix his already immaculate hair.

“Do you always wait around at crime scenes to walk a gal home?”

“W-would it be alright if I walked you home?”

Your questions collide in midair against each other. You huff out an exhausted laugh, but he just blushes a little, golden cheeks flushing as his eyes twinkle at you.

“N-no. I don’t make a habit of waiting at crime scenes to walk girls home. Guess that's something only for you.”

Now it's your turn to battle hot cheeks. You can't even fan your face off because you don't have a thing to fan yourself with. Flapping your hands makes you feel stupid. So instead, you let Superman lead you out of the shelter and onto Metropolis’ streets. The city is alive with the sound of cars and ambulances. Someone has a radio on their window playing music. It feels like you're in an entirely different place.

“So, what about that walk home?”

He smells good. For the first time you notice how good he smells, this Superman, now that your nose isn't clogged with the smells of spilled tomato soup and sandwiches. You want to spend time with him. You want to forget what is waiting for you in the morning, how angry Perry is going to be when you didn't get a scoop on the shelter or any pictures that you know of. Maybe if you spin the Superman angle to this? It doesn't feel right, exploiting this man when he's so clearly doing it to help people. You also don't want to stop talking to him yet.

“Sure.”

Honestly you wish you'd clarified, because when he said walk, you thought he was actually going to walk with you. Instead he sweeps you up in his arms and shoots up into the sky. You scream the whole way, hands scrabbling for purchase against his suit, finally settling for an arm around his shoulder. You're shaken and shivering when he finally stops moving.

“Shit, sorry.” 

You grumble into his broad chest at the cheeky apology. 

“Just thought you'd want to see the city how I see it.”

When you finally screw up the courage to take a look, your lips part in a gasp. The entirety of Metropolis is laid out in front of you. Lit in gold from all of the lights, you're grinning from ear-to-ear as you peer out over the city.

“It's gorgeous!” There's a pleased smirk on his face. “I can't believe you get to see the city like this!”

“Yeah,” He grins, something soft. “I didn't fall in love with the city until the first time I saw this view.”

“I can see why,” You gasp, witnessing how soft your colossal city looks in the moonlight, how it seems like a world filled with such promise.

“Let's get you home.” There's a blush on his cheeks as he swoops you down, following your murmured instructions like he knows every inch of the city.

You feel a little bit like a princess when he sets you lightly down on the doorstep. He's still floating in the air, the navy blue suit he's wearing clinging to every muscle. Now more than ever something feels familiar about him. He stays outside your door watching with the same smirk on his face, his head cocked to the side like he's waiting to hear your deadbolt slide home.

You're a little giddy when he flies away, and you curl into your bed like you're in a dream. You sleep well, for the most part, not half as traumatized as you expected to be after being held hostage at gunpoint. At least, until you jolt up in bed, your hair a mess around you and growl, “Garcia!” 

He'd disappeared when the police came to the shelter with their bullhorns and their posturing. You'd smelled the same sharp ozone-tinged scent in the air when he'd disappeared and when Superman shot into the room. But there is more too. The shape of his face, the way he smiled, the almost compulsive way he pushed his hair off his face. He acts just like Garcia does, too.

What is the likelihood your first encounter with Metropolis' own Superman would give you insight into his alter-ego? After all, nobody would suspect that quiet, bespectacled, sweet Mickey Garcia, a photographer for the Daily Planet, is Superman. Nobody, it's obvious, but you. Forget your conspiracy board on LexCorp and their shady dealings. Right now, an exclusive interview with Superman seems like just the ticket to rocket you into fame.

But you can’t let on that you know. You spend the day typing up a lackluster article on the shelter opening, your eyes peering over your computer every time you hear footsteps coming your way. The people walking past you never stop by, not even to chat. You're practically sprinting for the door when you see Garcia, chunky headphones around his neck.

“Hey, Garcia!” 

He turns and looks oddly surprised to see you. 

“You got a sec?”

“Y-yeah, of course.” 

His stutter is adorable. You have to remind yourself he is Superman. 

“I wanted to take a look at the pictures you shot yesterday. Obviously the opening wasn't what we expected, but it should be an interesting public interest piece anyway.”

When he's sitting in the chair next to yours, fingers flying over your keyboard as he shows you all of the photos he took as well as a few of the aftermath, you're questioning your gut instinct even more. How is it possible he got pictures of the police helping people, interviewing you, if he was Superman? 

It's nice, working with someone who smiles at you instead of spitting insults out behind your back.

“This looks great.”

There's a smile on your face as you look at the finished article. 

“Yeah, not bad for an article about a shelter opening turned into a hostage situation, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

You turn, and rest your arm on his forearm. You let your reporting instinct take the driver’s seat. When he's relaxed, maybe you'll get some answers out of him.

“I completely forgot to ask! How are you holding up after yesterday? You know what Perry always says, ‘We're a family here at the Planet!’. I was terrified when those gunmen burst in.”

You prattle on and on, seeing his face change, almost fall, when you mention Superman. 

“You know, he's awfully handsome, Superman is. He took me home, made sure I was alright.”

You grin, wickedly, though you know for sure nobody here in Metropolis knows you well enough to tell.

“And then he blushed.”

All of your suspicions are proved true when Mikey Garcia blushes the same way Superman did.

“You know something? Superman blushed just like that when he was showing me Metropolis how he sees it.”

There's panic in his eyes now. You're just fast enough to block him at the door, arm flung out to stop him from walking past you.

“So…. How long have you been Superman, Mickey Garcia?”

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @teacupsandtopgun

@roosterforme @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

@shanimallina87 @a-reader-and-a-writer @dakotakazansky @seitmai

@shinycupcakebaker

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