#''What if they didn't mean it like that'' and ''oh maybe they just didn't know it was ableist to joke about inbreeding deformities''

[millers-angel]

single dad!joel miller x babysitter!reader

♡ summary: single dad joel hires a babysitter who takes care of sarah a little too good, but she can take care of him too, in a different way. ୨୧ cw: soft joel (with sarah), smut, unprotected sex, size difference, creampie (reader is not on birthcontrol) ୨୧ wc: 7.6k

"you made it on time," he said as he opened the door.

joel looked... tired.

the man standing in front of you was taller, broad shoulders, big arms, big hands too, but his eyes seemed tired, his hair was a little messy, maybe he’d run a hand through it too many times.

you'd seen him before, but just in pictures... seeing him in person was totally different. it felt intimidating even, if it wasn't for how tired he look.

"come on," he said stepping aside so you could step in.

you nodded, a little nervous at first, but tried to hide it with a smile. the house smelled like baby cologne and milk, the first thing you noticed was all the toys scattered in the living room, a folded-up stroller against the wall.

everything was pretty messy, and so was he.

then you spotted her, a baby girl, barely two, sitting on the couch, holding a stuffed bear and something that made you laugh a bit, sarah had joel’s oversized contractor helmet on her head, covering half of her face.

joel followed your gaze and sighed. "oh, darlin’," he mumbled but he couldn't help to smile at the sight. sarah loves his helmets.

he walked to her and lifted her gently to put her against his hip, taking the helmet off her head. sarah squealed and lifted her arms to reach the helmet again.

"daa," she babbled, clearly demanding joel the helmet back.

joel looked around, as if trying to find something and then he spotted it, crouched to pick it up, between the blocks and stuffed animals was her own tiny plastic toy helmet, the one that actually fits her.

"this is the one, baby girl," he said putting the helmet on her head.

sarah squealed again, kicking her little feet while he held her. joel seemed all serious and intimidating, but with sarah... he softened every part of him, you could see it, as tired as he looks, he tries his best with her.

"well, this is sarah," he said adjusting her.

"hey, sarah," you said making a face and waving your hand to her, getting a giggle from her side.

joel smiled too, "first of all, thanks for coming," he started. "i'm joel miller, uh," he rubbed his eyes with his fingers, cleary exhausted. he cleared his throat, "just… lettin’ you know, sometimes my shifts run long. that okay? i’ll always pay extra, but—"

"it's okay with me, mr. miller," you shrugged. "it's my job for now."

he took a deep breath. "thanks, i'd really like this to be a full-time job, if that's okay with you?" you nodded. "and as i said, sometimes i gotta stay longer at work, but of course i pay for your time."

"that’s fine," you said shrugging. "really, don’t worry about it. i need the money anyway."

"i’m sorry if i sound pushy. it’s just—" he exhaled. "you’re the fifth sitter this month. i’ve been havin’ trouble at work ‘cause… i can’t leave sarah alone, and it’s complicated."

your heart sank, cause he do looks exhausted. "you don’t need to explain. i get it... but if you want me to sign a paper letting you know i won't quit, that's okay." you joked a bit, trying to make things lighter.

but joel didn't laugh, he lowkey felt ashamed, maybe he's being too paranoid. "sorry. don’t mean to come off paranoid or annoying."

"no, you’re not," you said gently. "you’re just worried about her. that makes sense."

he took a deep breath again, while sarah just look to the both of you, blinking, trying to understand maybe. "alright," he looked around. "so, there's food in the kitchen, take anything you want," he nodded. "but if you feel like eating something else, i left cash on the counter."

you nodded. "thanks," you looked at her now. "what about sarah? what does she eat?"

joel looked at sarah, smiling this time. "she likes applesauce, nuggets, mashed potatoes, you know? a bit of everything, though she prefers fruit than vegetables," he rolled his eyes to her, playfully. "but she needs to eat vegetables anyway. and before sleeping, she likes warm milk. she's got her special cup for that, is the one with—"

"bunnies!" sarah squealed. of course she probably had no idea what he was talking about, she just picked on the keywords.

it made you smile. "noted, boss."

"she loves bunnies and cats," he said softly. "she’s a calm baby, but she gets... upset if she doensn't sleep."

"sounds like most of us," you agreed.

he laughed, softening his face, and god, you really, really liked this messy look on him, on his smile. he's really dedicated to her, to sarah, he's there for her, he worries about her, he cares about her, as tired as he is, he don't mind as long as sarah is okay.

then, he looked at the watch on his hand and clicked his tongue. "i'm late, gotta go."

you nodded and reached out for sarah from his arms. she surprisingly, came up with you almost immediately. joel went and grabbed a few things he needed, yes, the helmet included.

he walked to you, to sarah, crouching to her level. "i'll be right back, baby girl."

"dada," she said with her tiny hands over his face.

he kissed her cheek. "i love you. be good for me, yeah?"

sarah babbled something in response, then giggled. her little arms wrapping around his neck before he put her back next to you.

then, joel cleared his throat. "anything happens, anything at all, you call me, or text. i'll answer."

"i will," you nodded, adjusting sarah against your hip. "i'll send pictures of her so you'll be aware she's fine."

joel chuckled. "okay, that sounds more than fine."

he gave one last look at the both of you, softer than he probably meant to let show. "thanks. i’ll be back in a couple hours."

and he left. just you and sarah now. she looked at you with those big curious eyes and tucked her face on your shoulder, probably feeling the absence of her daddy. but you won't let her down on this.

joel didn't come back 'in a couple of hours' that day, of course he didn't. but it was okay, you kept sarah busy, playing, watching tv when it was the right time, coloring—or trying to because sarah just made a mess with the already broken crayons. you'd feed her what she liked, even veggies, but in a fun way, so she wouldn't make a fuss. she took her afternoon nap just as joel said she would. and when it was night, you'd given her the warm milk before sleeping, in her sippy cup with the bunnies, her favorite. the baby fell asleep right there nestled on your ribcage. you'd look at her and felt proud, because you did something right.

from that day on, you were there almost every day. sometimes even on weekends. you took sarah to the park, she enjoyed the swings, she also enjoyed playing on the tiny animals—the ones where toddlers can get up, nothing too high or dangerous, not at all. you sent pictures to joel pretty often, of what sarah was doing, just routine, just to show him she was fine and safe. he just answered with 'thank you', or a thumbs-up emoji.

joel even brought home a small inflatable pool for sarah, for those hot days. sarah was happier than ever splashing in the water, squealing and you sent pictures to joel of her enjoying her pool while he was probably breaking his back at work, but it was all worth it, for her.

you never went back on your word, didn’t quit like the others. you had no plans to. sarah was too sweet. of course, she had her moments, tears when she was tired, little tantrums when she didn’t get what she wanted. but you were always patient with her, you knew she was just a little one. if anything, you both learned each other. she was actually excited when she saw you at the door, toddling fast to wrap your legs and demanded to be held.

and she was learning too, sarah was more talkative everyday, picking new words from you.

sarah adored you. and you adored her back.

however, you’ve noticed a few things. sarah’s mom is not in her life at all, it’s just her and joel and of course it makes you wonder what happened. the man doesn’t have pictures of her with anyone but sarah and his brother, you guess it is because of the similarities on their faces. but not a single trace of a woman. it makes you feel bad for him, because he’s all alone, working all the time, barely has time to breathe and yet he manages to be a great father for sarah.

but it’s sad, though.

you wonder if he still sees someone or maybe keeps in contact with sarah’s mom on the days you’re not there.

joel is not a man of much words. he keeps it simple, always respectful, and being honest, he always looks tired. and now, so are you.

sometimes, he finds you sleeping on the couch when it’s too late at night. you’re all curled up, peacefully sleeping near the monitor in case sarah wakes up. he felt awful, knowing you'd taken care of his little girl and the couch wasn't a place to sleep. he crouched to your level before gently calling your name.

you barely moved. "hey," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed, still dazed, then you saw him. "oh, jesus," you blinked and rubbed your eyes. "i'm sorry, mr. miller."

"not at all," he said gently. "next time if you're tired, you can go in my bedroom. the bed is big and comfortable."

you shook your head. "no, mr. miller, i’m fine here."

"please," he insisted.

"i’d feel bad, knowing you’re letting me take your bed while you’re at work."

"and i'd feel bad knowing you're sleeping on this couch when my bedroom is empty upstairs," that made you both chuckle. "please, do it. i mean it."

from that day on, if you got too sleepy, you’d go into joel’s room. at first, it felt awkward, cause as nice as he is, he is still your boss. but you did it anyways. the first time in his room, it was... something. it was all messy, the unmade bed, clothes scattered all over the place, his boots from work, helmets, tools, but also framed pictures of sarah, alongside half-empty water bottles and a small bottle of anxiety medication. you felt bad for him.

there wasn’t a trace of sarah’s mother anywhere.

but you started making his bed, cleaning his place, keeping it nice for him. you knew it wasn't part of your job, but honestly, you didn't mind at all. he pays you well, he doesn't give you a hard time, and of course, if you can help him, you will. cause you know he works hard for his girl, and now you know he deals with more things. the man needs to breathe.

and you're giving him that. he's not blind, he's noticed everything you've done for him, for the house. and despite his words that you really don't need to be doing this, you didn't stop. now, joel has more time to separate his work from his personal life. now he's got more time to sleep.

one night even, joel when joel came home from work, he got a surprise in his room. not only you, but you and sarah, both girls sleeping comfortably on his bed. the little one was tucked on your ribcage, holding to your shirt, and you had her wrapped on your arms, and on his night table, sarah's sippy cup. that put a smile on his face.

you were so patient with her, so gentle. he’d lost count of how many times sarah lit up just hearing your voice.

he didn’t want to wake either of you. he wouldn't and he never does even when it's just you. so he just made his way to the couch.

it wasn’t the only time he found you there.

the night he stepped in his room just to find you lying there, your skirt had ridden up enough. enough to let him see what you had underneath. your panties. soft pink lace panties. he wasn’t a pervert, and god, he respected you. but he was still a man. and right now, all he could see was your butt, your panties, your thighs, he could see you all.

joel wasn't blind. he's aware of what he has in front of him lying on his bed. a beautiful, young girl which butt is perfectly made for his hands to squeeze. he shook his head at the thought. you're just so good with sarah, so good with him, so kind and sweet, always wearing those shorts, these skirts, of course you're unaware of the effect you had on people.

and being honest, joel has had no time for women. always filled up with work, with sarah, until you came. of course this is a job, but still, you're more good than just being sarah's sitter. you're good with him too. and that's why this hits him harder. cause you're too good, in every sense of the word. and now, seeing the soft piece of fabric covering your tiny slit, that made him grow hard inside his pants.

he almost groaned, cause he knows this ain't right. seeing you with these eyes, thinking of you in that way. but he couldn't help to stare and feel himself grow harder to the view.

he didn't do anything about it. he just let you sleep like he always does.

but he wasn't the only one. it happened the other way around too. one night, you'd woken up on his bed, but heard the sound of the tv, it was very low, but you knew he was home then.

still sleepy, you made your way downstairs and the view made your jaw drop a little. joel just came out from the shower, his hair was damp, and so was his body, god, he just had the damn towel around his hips, and without even wanting to, you could... you could see the shape of his dick because of how tight the towel was.

you trailed him all, his broad shoulders, his chest, how hairy he was, had salt and pepper all over his stomach, and even on that trail that leaded to the part that left nothing to the imagination.

you swallowed, getting all flushed at your own thoughts. but god, you needed him, you needed to see him. you know it’s not ethical maybe, cause at the end of the day, he’s still your boss but… you’re too weak when it comes to him.

he could see how nervous you were and it was really sweet. "i’m sorry, didn’t want to wake you up."

you shook your head. "i’m okay," you said forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "i—i, sarah is sleeping, she um—today she ate those bunny-shaped cookies she likes."

joel chuckled. "i think she’s running out of those," he clicked his tongue. "gotta go for more."

you then, spotted bruises, scratches, some worse than others, but pretty much bad anyways. the scratch on the side of his belly was almost bleeding again, so you asked him, "what happened?"

he looked down to it. "work stuff," he sighed. "gotta check that later."

"mr. miller, that seems pretty bad, it can get infected. i think you have something in your room, i saw it."

he nodded. "better do something about it, huh?"

"i can help you with it, if you want." it was genuine, because honestly, it looked pretty bad and as sure as you are this isn't the first time, you want to do it, because you know it must hurt doing it all by himself.

"i don't want to keep you longer than necessary."

"you're not."

he adjusted the towel around his hip. "alright."

then, he guided you back to his room, closing the door. "just lay down," you said softly.

and he did. you went to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer and finding a small kit inside.

he chuckled behind you.

"sorry if that’s intrusive," you said quickly, glancing over your shoulder. "i just… remember to have put it in that drawer the other day."

"you’re really kind, but you don’t have to do that," he replied.

"i don’t mind," you said simply, pulling out the ointment and a roll of gauze. when you turned to face him again, he was watching you, almost eager for you to bent down and heal him.

he seemed so vulnerable there, lying, all injured, bruised and that cut almost bleeding. you swallowed once your eyes found the prominent bulge now the towel is completely settled over him. you had to look somewhere else almost immediately.

you knelt beside the bed, uncapping the ointment and gently applying it over the cut. joel flinched just a little.

"sorry," you murmured, glancing up at him quickly.

"is there anything you can’t do? you seem to do just about everything."

you chuckled softly. "if you want, or if you’re hungry, i could make you dinner."

"no," he said shaking his head, "and i’m serious when i tell you, you don’t have to clean my room, that's not your job."

you shrugged. "i don't mind," you looked up at him. "if i don't do it no one will."

"i’ll get to it when i have time."

you gave him a look. "when you have time, you sleep."

you made him chuckle out loud.

"you’re a good boss," you said with a smile. "i’ve got no complaints, you pay me well, and it’s the least i can do."

"boss, huh? makes me feel older than i am."

you shrugged. "that’s not a bad thing,” you said, and it came out with a different tone that you intended, and after that, either of you said a word.

you kept going, though. until he was patched, until you were sure his cut wasn't going to keep bleeding, and joel followed the movements of your soft hands in every second.

"thanks," he said.

you gave a small smile. "does it hurt a lot still?"

before he could answer, your fingers drifted over his belly, tracing around the part you just healed. maybe it was too low, or maybe was your touch, but you made him hiss, you were too soft, your hands, your touch.

"sorry," you said quickly. "i didn't know it hurt that much."

joel’s mouth curved, and shook his head. "it's fine."

he shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed, and it was for the worst—for his mind. you were sitting on your knees, looking up to him, and he could only see those pleading eyes. it made him weak. his mind was playing him dirty, thinking about you in this exact same position but doing something else. maybe having something his in that pretty mouth of yours.

but of course, nothing happened.

it was a saturday, but you got ready for work, thinking that joel was supposed to go on the afternoon, so you made your way to his house, knocking on the door once you got there.

he opened the door, but didn't see like he was going to work, he was all messy. "hey… what are you doin’ here?"

you tilted your head. "uh… i thought i was working today?"

before he could answer, you heard someone squealing and running to your way. sarah. she wrapped her little arms around your legs, already handing you her dolls.

joel stepped closer. "today’s my day off. i texted you this morning."

you frowned. "i didn’t get any message."

he frowned too, but before either of you could say something, sarah made a grumble, pulling on your hand, demanding your attention.

"baby," joel crouched down beside her, "she gotta rest today." he tried to pull her gently away, but sarah didn't let go off you, her eyes filling with tears.

you laughed softly, smoothing a hand over her hair. "it’s okay, i’m here."

joel exhaled, clearly defeated, and you heard sarah try to form the word 'play,' her voice breaking while tears ran down her cheeks. your heart melted.

"alright," you said gently, "let’s play a little."

you stepped inside, and joel followed, still trying to explain to his daughter that today she was supposed to be with him only. but sarah’s cries just made it worse hearing that, so you followed, "really, it’s fine."

he rubbed the back of his neck. "you got somethin’ to do today?"

you shook your head.

"then why don’t we go out and get somethin’ to eat?"

you started to protest. "you don’t have to—"

"i mean it," he said quickly. "not for you to watch her. just… take you both out for a bit."

you couldn’t help smiling. and then looked at the little one's teary face, you couldn't say no to this. "alright."

joel packed a small bag for sarah, extra clothes, wipes, her sippy cup, snacks, and the moment she saw him zipping it up, she squealed, knowing he does that cause she's going out. after packing her things, joel sat on the couch with her on his lap to do her hair into two pigtails. you just watched the wholesome scene, his big calloused hands working gentle on his daughter's hair.

"you ready?" he asked.

you nodded, and he guided you outside, holding the door open and walking you to his truck. he opened the door of his truck for you, like gentleman, and then moved to the back door to put sarah on her seat, double-checking the straps.

you waited while he get inside, glancing around, small toys scattered in the back, and a few work tools resting on the floor. it felt… very much like him.

it ended up being a really good afternoon. sarah was all giggles, sitting in her booster seat between the two of you, swinging her little feet under the table. she ate everything on her plate, even the vegetables he put from his plate to hers.

when the waiter came back to clear the plates, he smiled and asked, "anything for dessert?"

sarah’s picked on the keyword as always and said, "ice cweam."

joel chuckled. "one strawberry ice cream for her," he said, knowing it was her favorite.

the waiter nodded, then looked at you. "and for your other daughter?"

you froze, feeling your cheeks burn instantly, but joel just laughed out loud.

"go on," he said between laughs. "get somethin’."

you tried to hide your smile, looking down. "uh… cheesecake, please."

the waiter left but joel was still chuckling. you peeked at him from the corner of your eye, still embarrassed.

for joel, though, the waiter’s comment stayed on his mind. it felt strange. he’d seen you with different eyes before, more than once, and knowing other people might see you as more like his daughter than anything else made him feel... weird. it wasn’t bad exactly, but it left him a little self-conscious. of how old he is, of how young you are, of maybe being a creep for thinking about you in that way.

you broke his thoughts, nudging your plate toward him. "want a bite?"

he chuckled, shaking his head. "nah, i’m good."

"come on," you insisted, sliding the spoon toward him.

"i said i’m—" he started, but you were already scooping up a bite.

"just try it," you said, looking at him with those pleady eyes he can't resist.

he huffed and leaned forward, taking the bite from the spoon. "alright," he said and smiled after, "not bad."

after dessert, you took sarah to the kids’ area, pushing her gently on the swing and helping her to climb the slide. she giggled, asking for 'more'. and joel found himself watching from a distance, not only watching his daughter, but also watching you.

his phone rang then, from work. he answered and after a couple minutes, he walked to you.

"got called in," he said.

"do you have to go right now?" you asked.

"it'll be quick," he nodded. "but i can get you to your house first."

you shifted sarah onto your hip. "no, i can watch her," you offered.

joel shook his head. "nah, i can’t—"

but sarah gripped you even harder, hiding her face in your neck with a tiny whine.

"it’s fine," you said softly, rubbing her back. "she’s okay with me."

he glanced between you both, then sighed. "alright… we’ll all go."

you nodded, but he took sarah to all the way to the truck. she stayed tucked against you the whole way, following the same routine as before.

he got to the site and you all came out, but he was the one holding sarah, who only got more excited seeing all the stuff, and the same helmets joel wears all the time, pointing at them with both hands.

"dada!" she said and joel just smiled, holding her even prouder.

the man who’d called him waved from a distance, and joel headed over, still holding sarah on his hip while they talked. you stayed back, looking around, hearing all the noise, all the big machines, the men sweating, working. it looked hard and now you could see now why joel always looked tired, why his hands were calloused and he's always with bruises.

you caught the sound of sarah’s little laugh, and glanced to them. joel was proudly showing her to his coworkers.

that’s when one of the workers came to you. "first time in a place like this?" he asked, nodding toward the construction.

"yeah," you said softly.

he grinned, and you kept talking, he made you laugh by making jokes about the site. but before the conversation could go deeper, joel looked at the both of you, how you were laughing, but even more, how the man was looking at you, and not only him, a couple more men. of course they'd look to you, wearing the dress, how it lifted just enough with the wind. he knew the men he worked with.

joel walked over, frowning, shifting sarah slightly in his arm. "break’s over," he told the man flatly. "get back to it."

the worker nodded quickly and left, and sarah immediately reached for you.

"sweetheart, stay with me," joel said, but she stretched her little arms toward you anyway, her eyes big and pleading.

you laughed, giving in and lifting her from his arms. "i’ve got her."

joel shook his head but didn’t stop you, just told you to stay close to him. while you played with sarah a few steps away, pointing out things she could see from a safe distance, joel joined a small group of his crew.

they started talking, but it didn’t take long before one of them nodded toward you. "so, uh… who’s that?"

"the babysitter," joel said simply.

another man added, "she's hot."

"you sleepin’ with the babysitter, miller?" a third one joined, making everyone laugh. "i mean, i would do too." he shrugged. "look at her, bet she's all sweet down there too."

"bet she sucks dick really good," everyone except joel laughed. "come on, look at her lips, they must be soft."

joel stiffened. "knock it off. show some respect." his tone left no room for argument, and the men exchanged glances before shifting the conversation back to work.

but joel’s found you again, holding his daughter, feeling even worse knowing he'd thought almost the same. not in that vulgar way, but he knows you more, he... he knows how sweet you are, he'd seen you almost bare, he knows what kind of panties you wear, he knows how soft your lips and hands are.

after a while, joel came back for good now, and sarah reached for him. he took her in his arms immediately, walking toward the truck, but as they passed by one of the machines, it made a loud sound.

sarah got scared, and dug her face on joel's neck, crying.

"hey, hey, it’s okay," joel murmured, walking faster. his hand rubbed slow circles over her back. "it’s just a machine, baby girl. nothin’ to be scared of."

she still cried, hard and joel felt guilty for even bringing her here in the first place.

"you’re alright," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. "you’re my brave girl. i got you." he didn’t let go until they were out of the site, almost near the truck.

once at home, sarah seemed calmer but still a little sensitive. joel had told about taking you home, but after a glance to sarah, seeing her all scared, you decided to stick with them a little more, until sarah was okay.

you played with her, as much as she wanted, until she started rubbing her eyes. then, you settled on the couch with her over your lap, joel bringing the bunny sippy cup with warm milk. sarah drank slowly, her eyes closing but still drinking just like when she was a baby, you rocked her, hummed lullabies to her until she was completely asleep.

joel was there, watching the scene with a soft gaze, he loves seeing how soft you are with his girl. "i’ll take her in her room," he said softly, lifting her from your arms.

when he came back, he sat down on the edge of the couch, looking at you. "thank you. i mean it when i say i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckled. "you’re welcome."

"you have to head out now?" he asked after a moment.

“why?”

he cleared his throat. "wonderin’ if you wanted a glass of wine."

your cheeks warmed, but you nodded. "sure."

he gave a small nod and went to the kitchen, returning a minute later with two glasses and the bottle of wine. he sat beside you, handing you one.

"thank you for today," you said, "for lunch and all."

"nah," he shook his head, "thank you. you helped me out more than you know."

"it’s nothing," you smiled. "i really like sarah. i like taking care of her."

"she likes you too," joel said, "more than me, probably."

you laughed. "no, sarah loves her daddy."

he chuckled at that, shaking his head.

"you’re patient with her," you added. "you’re a good dad."

he sighed as if you just told him something it hurt. "i try my best."

you smiled at him over your glass.

after that, the conversation kept going to different things, not only about sarah, or work, just random things. music, places you’d been, joel was telling you stories from when he was young, making you laugh. maybe it was the wine, maybe it was just being comfortable, but you both started loosening up.

before taking another sip, joel glanced at you. "this job doesn’t get in the way of time with your boyfriend, does it?"

you laughed hard, "well, if i had one, sure."

"what? you’re young, real pretty, sweet… i can’t believe you don’t have someone."

you shook your head, smiling into your glass. "nope. nothing like that."

he chuckled, taking a drink of his own. "why?"

"well, i've come to understand that guys are... stupid."

"yeah, guys your age are stupid," he said drinking, you chuckled when he clarified guys your age.

you tilted your head. "what about you? do you only have time for sarah and work, or do you get home late ‘cause you’re seeing some woman?"

he laughed at that, leaning back. "i wish. after sarah, it’s just been her and work for me."

"you should go out more, then," you said with a little shrug.

"yeah?" he asked.

"i’m serious," you nodded. "i can watch sarah if you need me to. you deserve time for yourself, too."

he shook his head with a small laugh. you paused for a second, then made the big quiestion, "is that because of sarah’s mom?"

he didn’t answer right away, just stared to the glass in his hands. "sorry," you said quickly, "that’s probably too personal."

"it’s fine," he said, sighing hard. "she’s out of the picture. decided to move on with her life."

your heart sank, not only because the woman left, but because of how he said it. "i’m sorry," you murmured. "more for her, though… she’s missing out on an incredible little girl and—" you cleared your throat, "—and a man just as good."

joel chuckled at your words, shaking his head slightly. "you think i’m a good man?"

you nodded. "i do. you’re hardworking, you provide for sarah, you’re present, you love her."

he smiled, looking down. "well, that’s just bein’ a dad."

you laughed softly. "and you’re also very handsome. and respectful."

that pulled his gaze back to you, eyebrows raising. "handsome?" you nodded. "well… i’m honored a girl like you would think i’m handsome."

"you are," you said as if it wasn't a big deal. "and even though i don’t know you as a man, outside of being a dad, i’m sure you’re good in that way, too."

"that could be arranged," he said without thinking.

you froze for a second, your cheeks burning red. "sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

you shook your head. "no… not at all. maybe you’re just drunk."

joel’s gaze softened. "no, darlin’, i’m not."

"then you're lying to me!" you said gasping, as if you just caught him on something.

"what?" he said just as confused.

"because you said you texted me this morning telling me you weren't gonna work today, but i ain't got no message, that means you were texting someone else," you shrugged.

his brows knitted together and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the messages, he chuckled once he saw who he sent the message to.

"tommy, he's my brother," he shook his head. "shit, i was supposed to get some things for next week's dinner," he said, talking to himself. "but yeah, i sent it to him." you rolled your eyes, laughing. "made you came for nothing."

"for nothing?" you raised a brow. "you took me out to eat, you showed me your workplace, and now we're drinking wine. i don't think that's nothing."

"guess i’ll just have to pay you for your time now."

"oh, stop," you laughed.

he was already reaching for his wallet when you reached across to grab his hand. "joel, no—if you pay me, i’m gonna feel awful. you already took me out to eat, you’re being this kind, i won't take it."

he shifted in his seat at the same time you leaned forward, the two of you ending up closer than you’d meant to. his eyes trailed your face, eyes landing on your lips, and then he looked away, to the ceiling, rubbing his own eyes.

"and on top of all that," he muttered, "the waiter thought you were my daughter."

he sounds ashamed, dissapointed and you knew it, you knew that comment would stay on his head.

you shook your head, chuckling and cupped his face. "if i was your daughter i couldn't do this," and as soon as the words left your mouth, you leaned to press your lips on his.

how sweet they were! god, and it lasted less than five seconds, but it was enough to make him lose his mind.

his hands found your hips and shifted you totally over his lap, easily, you gaped and he was already trying to meet your lips again. but you were the one who gave in, leaning, kissing him, deeper this time, holding his face, brushing your fingers over his stubble.

"wait," you said mid-kiss. "this isn't—good," you said in a soft voice once his hands slipped to your butt.

"you really wanna stop?" he asked in a deep voice. "you feel uncomfortable?"

you shook your head. "but you're my boss."

he chuckled almost painfully. "don't care," he said digging his head in your neck.

it had been time since joel wasn't like this with someone. there was something beautiful about the way a woman can make him weak, just feeling your scent, kissing your neck, feeling how soft you get in his arms, feeling how you tug at his hair.

but after a moment, you shifted your hands to his, moving them from your hips, to inside your dress, he was impressed that you were the one who did that for him, but he touched you anyways. he brushed his hands over your thighs, on your sides, and most of all, on your ass, almost bare, he could feel the triangle piece of fabric barely covering your butt.

god, you got him hard, aching, and he hadn't even seen you yet, he's just feeling you. in the meantime, you undid the buttons of his flannel, one by one, enjoying how the hairs of his chest peek out, he was eager to get back to your lips, but you placed your palms on his chest.

"wait," you said softly, eyes on his stomach, taking off his shirt, entirely.

you licked your lips and leaned in, looking up to him before pressing your lips on his bare chest. it was just as hard as you imagined, and main of the reasons why joel didn’t want you to take the lead. he’s too weak right now. specially beneath your touch, feeling how your lips swipe all over his chest, followed by your tongue. he couldn’t help but moan once he felt your teeth digging on his skin, sucking just a bit over his neck, enough to maybe leave a hickey.

“jesus,” he said in a gasp.

“in case you’re lying to me, mr. miller,” you said softly, looking right to his eyes. “that woman will know you fucked the babysitter.”

he hissed. pushing your hips down to his trying for you to feel his prominent bulge. and god, you did, you bit your lip and bucked your hips by pure instinct.

“it ain’t no damn woman,” he said almost groaning, digging his face back in your neck.

this time joel wasn’t that soft anymore. he pulled down your dress enough to leave you in bra, finally meeting those pretty tits he’s only imagined and now, he’s gonna mark them.

but first he went for your neck, doing the same you just did to him. sucking your skin but at the same time, he squeezed one of your breasts, making your whimper, not out of pain, but because of how good it felt. the man didn’t get enough of you.

“that it,” he said against the slope of your breast. “might as well take you to my work again,” he said heavily breathing. “so no one has a doubt who’s made you these.”

“that so?” you almost chuckled because you remembered what happened earlier.

“you’re clueless, aren’t you?” he rasped, heavily breathing. “being all sweet, wearing this dress.”

“guess it worked, then.”

“i think you’d look better without it.”

you hummed, and he got rid of your dress slowly, enjoying seeing your bare hips, your thighs, your stomach, the hickeys he just did on your breasts, on your chest and neck. you look even better with these.

but what really got him are those tiny panties you’re wearing. lacy, soft pink panties. “damn, sweetheart,” he groaned, toying the waistband. “you’re all sweet wearing damn thongs.”

you chuckled until his hands unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. you gasped and your first instinct was to cover yourself.

“come on, baby,” he said cupping your hands over your breasts. “don’t be shy with me.”

you chuckled, biting your lip, but letting go from your breasts. he stiffened at the sight of your bare nipples, how sweet and swollen they were.

he took your hand and guided it to his crotch. “you see what you do to me?” he said as soon as you grabbed his dick over his clothes.

you quickly tried to unbuckle his belt, to take off his jeans. he helped you with it, dragging even his boxers off. your jaw dropped a little. you’ve seen it before, yes, but not like this, not whole, not this raw.

it’s not gonna fit.

you flushed hard and brushed the very tip of your finger over the very tip of his dick, your finger getting sticky with precum, making him flinch. he lifted you a little to take off your panties.

“joel—“ you said in a gasp. “i-i don’t think it fits.”

he chuckled in pain. “we’re gonna make it fit,” he rasped. “do you want this?”

you nodded. “do you?”

“more than you can imagine.”

and the next thing you felt, was his tip rubbing your slit, mixing your juices with his. letting them be the lube you need. he didn’t rush anything, he knew you were way smaller than him, that it could hurt if he was too rough. but he was gentle with you—at first.

you felt the tip at your entrance and you slowly seated on him. he let you set a pace, even if you were killing him. you were too tight he was worried this was your first time.

he groaned, “you done this before, angel?”

you nodded. “i told you guys sucks.” he chuckled. “but you’re a man through and through.”

he just thrusted, a little hard but not enough to hurt you. just to give you pleasure. you could feel every inch of his dick stretching you out, he whimpered, cause in fact you’re torturing him, specially with those sweet moans in his ear.

you bucked your hips, as if trying to ride him, but he was trying to do the same. it was complicated at first, until both of you understood each other and got a matching pace.

the couch was squeaking, the living room filled with whimpering, and you both were filled with pleasure. joel loved seeing you bouncing over him, seeing your breasts raising and falling, seeing how sweaty you get, feeling your nails dragging all over his back.

“damn, this what you do to your sitters?” you said between breathy moans.

joel hasn’t touched a woman in so long but that doesn’t mean he didn’t remember how to do it. he enjoys making a woman have an orgasm, he enjoys knowing he’s capable of doing it, that his dick provides that much pleasure. and by any means he wanted to finish inside, he couldn’t risk getting you pregnant, specially not now, not like this.

“you’re so tight for me,” he growled.

but he lost it once you started to kiss him as you swayed your hips back and forth. you know what you’re doing, you know damn well because you can feel him throbbing inside, you can feel him twitching, getting more stiffen beneath you. but the thing is, he wasn’t he only one, you were throbbing just as much, your walls choking him.

and he didn’t stop you. if anything, he just held your hips and followed your pace, leaning to gently shift positions just a bit, to kiss you, while he thrusted, hard, and you knew he was about to come, you could feel it. but you were already in a bliss to stop him from finishing inside.

so just as predicted, you felt him loading you cum. a lot. “joel,” you said in a tiny moan. “fuck.”

you whined, but didn’t move for a couple of seconds, and he didn’t pull out either, god, how good it feels filling a girl with his come, it feels even better knowing how risky it is.

he kissed you one last time before brushing his forehead with yours.

you’re heavily breathing just as him. sweating and your body shaking. he slowly pulled out, making you whine a bit, but god… the view.

your tiny slit was all flushed, swollen, glazing with your juices but also, dripping his cum. he felt proud of it.

but he parted your legs instead, rubbing his thumb over your clit, you winced, but then he slid his fingers to your hole where you leaked his cum.

“clench,” he said softly.

it almost made him hard again, seeing how more cum came out of your hole. he got as much as he could with his fingers, trying to clean you. it wasn’t embarrassing at all. if anything, it felt vulnerable but comforting at the same time. you like the way he touched you.

you licked your lips, and once he finished for good, you put your underwear back on, but he didn’t let you put on your dress, since he pulled you back with him to the couch.

you chuckled and snuggled on his chest, still feeling his cum bubbling inside you.

he was rubbing the pad of his thumb on your back. but then you became a bit self conscious, like, will things get uncomfortable from now on? will this change anything between you? you weren’t dumb, you knew what you just did wasn’t the best since he’s still the man you work for.

but he interrupted your thoughts. “hey,” he said gently, you looked up to him.

“mhm?”

“i’m glad i sent the text to my brother and not you.”

you chuckled, “yeah, honestly, me too.”

he leaned a bit, to meet your lips, and you followed, it was all soft, and that’s the part you enjoyed most.

“my brother and i are goin’ on a little trip next weekend,” he said lowly.

“sounds great,” you nodded. “it’ll be good for you.”

he cleared his throat. “do you think—uh, can you come with us? it’s to the mountains, but i’m sure you’d like it, really comfy cabins, with a fireplace and everything.”

you chuckled. “i mean, if you need me to,” you shrugged and he grinned. “i’m sarah’s sitter after all,” you stared at his smile, his lips once they curved after you said that. "and if you need to, i can take care of you too."

✿₊˚⊹🐇𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[wosospacegirl]

Youngest Putellas - part 4

Summary: There was a shadow growing in the Putellas family, unnoticed, while everyone kept their attention on Alexia. Somehow, your mom's house and your city felt too small for both you and your sister.

Warnings: !!! mentions of self-harm and blood (pls don't read if it triggers you, r is sad here). plus alexia being a caring sister for once, misa being a sweetheart <3

Word count: 5.7k

A/n: after a whole month hehe

Marteslist here

Your hands were shaking as you chopped the shiitake mushroom. The cutting knife was creating a repetitive pattern that was driving you mad.

The smell of thyme, once comforting, was now nauseating.

Your kitchen was your safe space. You liked to cook. To create something from scratch. To take something raw and turn it into something nutritious, something with meaning and purpose.

The feeling of pride as you watched someone enjoy eating what you made was unmistakably better than making a goal; okay, maybe you were exaggerating a bit, but it came close, so close.

You had made risotto with mushrooms a dozen times. It was Alexia's favourite, and once you got that piece of information, you began cooking it every Friday back in Barcelona, but you hadn't made it since moving to Madrid.

Maybe that was why the Arborio rice looked intimidating. The Parmesan cheese too smelly, and the hazelnuts scattered across the counter seemed like a lot and not enough at the same time.

Everything was going wrong, and you couldn't tell why.

Actually, you could, you very much could.

It was Misa Rodriguez's fault.

You were happy to have her over, excited even, but you didn't know how to behave around someone you like (someone you had just realised you liked).

You knew what it was like to cook a meal because you wanted to impress someone, because you wanted to hear compliments coming from other people's mouths. You've been doing it with your family for years.

But it was different with Misa.

You didn't know how to cook for a girl. For someone you thought was pretty.

You wanted to make the best meal you've ever had, and wanted to make Misa happy.

But at the same time, your hands kept shaking, your stomach reminded you that you were hungry and thirsty and that it needed food too.

What if she hated your cooking? She would be surely hating a part of yourself as well. And you couldn't accept that.

Not right now, not at the point in your life where a rejection would feel like a knife to your heart.

You looked at the kitchen clock when it ticked loudly.

Fuck.

it was 6:34 pm. Misa would arrive soon, and you barely had anything ready. You spent too much time thinking and getting anxious about cooking than actually cooking.

You had postponed it as much as you could. You were an anxious avoidant, if that wasn't clear already. And that was another part of you that you hated.

The list was growing longer as you discovered more pieces of information about yourself.

The rice was almost done, though. At least you had to pat yourself on the back for that.

The salad was resting on the kitchen counter. You just needed to add the natural yoghurt to it and the baby spinach - oh - maybe some extra virgin olive oil would be good, too, but you didn't know if you had bought it last time you went to the market, things were so expensive in Madrid that—

The doorbell rang. And you froze.

Well, your whole body went rigid except for the hand cutting the mushroom, which led to the knife cutting right through your finger.

You winced in pain. No sound left your body as you curled against yourself. You didn't dare to look. Couldn't look.

You enjoyed the pain, but you didn't like blood (not anymore).

It was supposed to stay inside of you, not outside.

The knife hit the cutting board with a wet thud. The mushrooms had drops of blood on them now, a mix of beige, brown and dark red. The kitchen floor was smeared with blood, and some of it fell on your foot.

Blood, blood, blood. The smell of iron was filling the air, clinging to the scent of thyme. The doorbell rang again.

You were going to throw up. It kept pouring out of your finger. It didn't stop.

You were frozen, the pain wasn't doing its purpose of keeping you away from danger, of bringing you to security. It was, once again, trapping you in it.

The fourth time the doorbell rang, Misa's voice came with it.

"Hola, Putellas?" she said through the door, voice worried. "It's me… are you there?"

Misa was at the door. Misa. You were making a meal for Misa. But now it had blood on it. Now it was all ruined. Now it was—

Your finger throbbed. You looked down at it. It didn't look good; you didn't need to be a nurse or a doctor to say that.

You grabbed the kitchen towel and wrapped it around the cut, soaking the blood.

Its fibres were getting into the wound. It didn't feel natural. There shouldn't be cotton in your bloodstream. You cursed.

You looked at the mushroom once again, tears prickling in your eyes. The door. You had to answer the door. Misa was there, still waiting.

You took a step closer to the door; you wrapped your finger a second time, you didn't want Misa to see you bleed. Blood was private.

You opened the door just an inch, just enough for part of your face to poke through it. You kept your wounded hand behind the door.

"Misa... hi!" you said happily, your voice came out way too forced.

Misa smiled when she saw you. She was wearing a hoodie and black jeans. Her hair was down, something you didn't see often. She looked very pretty.

You wanted to invite her in. She looked warm, her face was welcoming, her presence safe; you wanted to rewind your day, start over, let this happen the way it was supposed to.

"Hey, Putellas," she said, her tone began happy, but then it turned confused. "Is everything okay?"

"I-I'm sorry," you said, trying to smile, but by Misa's face, she could tell it was fake. "I-I'll have to cancel tonight's dinner."

"Why?" Misa asked, getting closer to the door, suspicious dripping in her voice. "What's happening?" She tried to take a look inside your house, but with how narrow the opening was, she could barely look at anything.

"I-I got hurt," you said, "Small little thing, b-but I didn't finish cooking so there's no food and—"

"You got hurt? Where?" Misa asked seriously.

"It's nothing," you said. You didn't want her to see you like that; you couldn't.

"Let me in, sí?" she said gently.

"No," you said, surprising yourself with your firm tone. You placed your foot on the door, creating another barrier. "It's nothing."

Misa was silent, looking at you as if you were a scared animal that could bite at any time.

"If it's nothing," She said quietly, looking you right in the eyes. "Then why are you crying?"

You didn't notice you were crying. Your hand, the uninjured one, went to your cheek. Completely damp. You didn't mean to cry, not in front of her, not in front of anyone.

"I-I'm sorry," you murmured.

As you moved to close the door, Misa gripped onto it. She pushed it open firmly, making you move your foot that was behind the door, and you almost lost your balance.

As she opened the door, you felt trapped. You held the kitchen towel tight against your hand, but the pain only grew, so you softened the grip a little bit.

Misa's eyes were scanning you, trying to find where you were hurt and then her eyes fixated on your hand. She didn't say anything, she just held your forearm firmly as she reached your other arm.

"Did you cut it?" she said softly, examining it.

Her touch was gentle, her voice too, she didn't seem mad, didn't seem angry. You cried even more.

Misa didn't question it; she thought it was because of the pain.

You were twelve years old.

Mama was out on a work trip for the week, leaving only you, Alba and Alexia at home.

Alexia was trying to be the responsible one, but in her nineteen years of maturity, there was only so much she could do.

On the first night, Alba disappeared.

Alexia had called every single one of her friends, begging them to tell her where she was. But none of them did. So she went to you.

She questioned you angrily if you knew where Alba was, her voice was sharp and desperate. You were scared,

The questioning didn't last long. She saw your eyes, how confused you were, and how small and young you suddenly seemed compared to her.

She sighed, sat on the sofa, holding the bridge of her nose.

"Mami's gonna kill me if I call her and say Alba's missing," she murmured, but it was enough for you to hear.

You were standing next to her, hands trembling. Scared for Alba. Nervous for Mami, wanting to fix everything so Alexia didn't seem so lost.

She had a game in two days, so she couldn't be stressed about this.

You didn't know how to fix things yet, didn't know any words that would help Alexia. So you tried cooking.

While she stood there, her ear to the home phone, you went to the kitchen to make spaghetti.

It was an easy recipe. Boil the water, add the pasta, then chop the tomatoes, onions, and spinach. Mix everything together and top the pasta with the sauce. Very simple.

You had learned it last year, when Papa passed and Mama was too sad to leave the bed.

During one night, you saw Alexia crying in the kitchen, murmuring to Alba that she couldn't keep on training and being responsible for everybody's meals.

So you took matters into your own hands.

You could hear Alexia's voice from the kitchen, but it didn't matter; nothing mattered while you were cooking.

Alexia had bought you a new knife set. She didn't say anything, just left the box on top of the counter as if it weren't the best gift in the world.

The knives were precise and sharp. The tomato juice barely had time to stain the blade; it was so fast that part of it sprayed across the cutting board.

It was a very good knife. Too good.

You had blinked at the wrong moments. That's why you cut your finger.

It wasn't because your mind was telling you to do it.

It wasn't because your mind told you it didn't remember what colour your blood was.

No.

It was because you blinked. It was because you weren't paying attention. You didn't mean to do it on purpose. You didn't mean to hurt yourself.

Of course you didn't. It was just a wrong blink.

When the knife sliced through the meat of your finger, you kept quiet, watching the blood dripping and mixing with the tomato juice on the cutting board.

Red. Your blood was red, just like the tomato.

Now you could breathe properly. Now you knew the colour of your insides again. But with that knowledge came a price.

Pain.

The pain didn't stop. You didn't know what to do. You were frozen in place, knife to your hand, still sliced through your finger. It didn't cut all the way in; you still had your finger. It just wasn't intact. It wasn't whole.

You were scared to take the knife away. So you didn't.

You looked at the microwave clock. It was 7:56 pm.

You looked down at your finger again, Alexia's voice in your ear, she was pacing the living room now, you could tell she was still nervous just by the pattern of her steps.

You looked at the microwave again. 8:16 pm.

The blood kept coming. The knife was still there.

The pain was washing over you. It hurt. But you had felt worse. It felt several times worse when you watched unknown people laying your Papa to rest in the dirt.

This was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to that.

So you stood there. Feeling. Feeling something.

Physical pain was good, better than grief. At least you could see and indicate what was hurting you.

Most of the time, you couldn't even pinpoint what caused you pain. Now you did. You liked knowing.

You were starting to feel lightheaded. Your feet ached from standing too long. You didn't want to call Alexia, didn't want to bother her, she already had to worry about Alba.

Minutes passed. You waited, but didn't know for what.

Footsteps approached. You looked around the kitchen frantically, searching for something, anything that would make the wound and blood disappear. But there was nothing.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You pressed your lips tight, trying not to cry, but you failed.

"I found Alba, gracias a Dios, she's at—"

Alexia froze completely as she stepped into the kitchen, her mouth still open with unfinished words.

"Perdón," you said in a small voice, looking at Alexia, trying to read her body language, trying to think of what to say.

Alexia's eyes moved from your face to the cutting board. To the knife. To the blood. Everything was red... the counter was carmine.

"Mi corazón, what—" She took a step closer, grabbing paper towels and placing them on top of the knife, over your finger.

Her voice was so soft. Her fingers were so gentle on you. It made you cry harder. You missed Alexia.

"No, no," she said, in a false calm voice. "No llores, it's okay." [don't cry]

Alexia said it was okay, but it was like she didn't know what to do. She didn't seem like your older, wiser sister now. She seemed like a kid, uncertain and scared. Just like you.

Alexia took your arm and placed your injured hand against your chest, telling you to hold the knife in place. To not take it off.

"We're going to the hospital, sí?" she said, already placing a firm hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the house.

But as soon as the word hospital hit your ears, you froze. Not even Alexia's guiding hand was enough to make you move.

You looked up at her, cheeks wet, lower lip trembling. "No. No-no hospital," you stammered, panic completely setting in. "No-- ca-can't go again."

Understanding washed over Alexia's face. The last time you saw Papa, he was in a hospital. You hadn't been to any hospital since he passed. You couldn't go.

"We need to go, mi amor," Alexia said tenderly, sounding just like Mama.

Mama. You wanted your mom. You missed her. You wanted her by your side. Your crying turned into sobs, and Alexia wrapped her arms around you, bringing your head to her chest.

She kissed your head. "I'm gonna make it better, te prometo," she whispered. "But we need to go to the hospital first, sí? Vamos."

You didn't have the strength in your body to fight. Air was barely getting into your lungs. You could barely breathe, let alone run away from Alexia.

Your hand throbbed too. You wanted to fix it. You wanted to fix everything that was wrong with you. If Papa were still here, none of this would be happening.

Alexia opened the passenger door and helped you in before going to her own side, getting behind the wheel.

"Just wait a little longer," she kept saying, but it seemed like it was more for her own sake than yours.

Alexia drove like a madwoman. It startled you, she was always the most boring driver ever, and followed every rule completely.

But it seemed like making sure you didn't die from blood loss was more important now.

You were getting closer to the hospital. Alexia parked awkwardly in front of the hospital doors and helped you out of the car, holding your arm, trying to keep you from moving it.

She barely had to say anything when you walked in. As soon as people saw a young girl dripping blood, there were nurses all over you.

Alexia didn't leave your side. Not when the nurses told her to. Not when the nurses yelled at her. She stood next to you, rigid and unmoving.

You were taken to a white room that smelled like antiseptic. Your whole body was shaking as they placed you down on a chair, Alexia's hand on your shoulder, grounding you.

"I know you want Mama and Papa," Alexia leaned over, murmuring in your ear. "But I'm here, sí?"

You didn't even realise you were calling for them. Didn't realise you were speaking at all. Maybe you were dissociating. Trying to forget you were in a hospital.

The mere thought of being here was frightening, but the way Alexia kept looking around at the walls, it was clear it was a shared trauma between the Putellas.

The nurse slowly took the bloody paper wrap from your finger. The knife was still there. She moved your hand from side to side, and you winced. Alexia held your shoulder blade tensely.

"Con cuidado, que le está doliendo mucho," Alexia said sternly. The nurse completely ignored her. [Be careful, it's hurting her a lot]

"You're going to need stitches," the nurse said. "But there's good news… the knife didn't reach any important nerves."

"I'm going to take the knife out now," she said, not looking at Alexia. "Do you want to stay here? There will be a lot of blood."

Before you could even breathe, Alexia was already nodding. "I'm not going anywhere."

The nurse nodded and picked up an injection.

"This is for local anaesthesia," the nurse explained, looking at your eyes. "It will hurt for a few seconds, but then you won't feel anything, sí?"

You nodded quickly.

"You are her sister?" the nurse asked Alexia. "You'll need to sign a form for me to be able to care for her." The nurse moved her chin, directing it to a table in the room where papers lay.

"It just says that you are responsible for her and any medical decisions while she's here."

Alexia nodded, but didn't move.

The nurse waited, the shot ready in her hand. "Now."

Alexia's eyes moved from you to the nurse. "I'm not leaving her."

The nurse looked at Alexia as if she had had this conversation several times.

"It's five steps. Go. The longer you take, the longer she'll be in pain."

Alexia sighed angrily before walking to the table and signing the paper with more force than necessary. In less than a minute, she was already at your side.

"I-I don't want to," you said as soon as the nurse was ready to give you the anaesthesia. You retreated, trying to get away, but the small chair you were in and Alexia's hand kept you in place.

"L-let me go," you said once again, trying to mirror Alexia's usual stern voice.

"No," Alexia said, jaw locked. "It'll be quick. You need the stitches."

"I don't." You tried to move again, but then Alexia leaned over and held you down with her arms.

The nurse in front of you looked tired.

"Mira, niña," she began. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way. The hard way is that I get a bunch of nurses to hold you down while your sister waits outside. The easy way is to fix your finger with just us. What do you want?"

The nurse barely waited for your awareness.

The injection stung sharply and quickly on your skin; after a minute of waiting, the knife was finally taken from your wound.

You cried from pain, but also for your knife. Alexia had just bought it for you. You didn't want to leave it at the hospital… no, you wanted to keep it.

"I'll buy you another, cariño," Alexia said in your ear as she followed where your eyes were looking. "Did you like them? Do you want another set?"

You were ready to answer when your eyes fell to your finger again. The cut was deep, so much blood. You wanted to throw up.

Alexia held your chin gently, making you look at her while she cleaned the tears from your cheek. "Talk to me, cariño. Do you want another set?"

"S-sí," you nodded, trying not to think about the nurse working on your finger. "I-I want a-a salad set."

"Yeah? okay, I'll buy it for you," Alexia said, her voice steady and soothing. "After here we'll go home, then I'll take you shopping."

Before you realised it, the nurse had already finished the stitches.

"All good," the nurse said, getting up from her chair. "Try to stay away from cooking for a little while, sí? Be more careful, it could have ended way worse." The last bit was directed at Alexia.

Alexia's jaw tightened, but she just nodded. Her hand found yours (the uninjured one) and squeezed.

The nurse wrapped your finger in white gauze, explaining something about keeping it dry and changing the bandage.

But her words felt distant, and a little muffled too. You kept staring at your wrapped finger. It looked wrong.

"Come on, mi amor," Alexia said softly, helping you stand. Your legs felt unsteady, and you were too tired.

The walk to the car was quiet. Alexia kept her arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully.

The hospital smell clung to your clothes... you wanted to take a shower. Alexia opened the passenger door for you before getting into her seat

"Alba? Did you really find her?" you asked, feeling comfort in being in the car, comfort about going home.

"She's fine. She's at Luisa's house. She said she forgot to tell me. I'll pretend to believe it." Alexia started the engine, looking at you out of the corner of her eyes. "I'm worried about you, though, not her."

You didn't know what to say, so you just looked out the window.

Barcelona felt different during the night, you didn't realise how long you and Alexia were inside the hospital until you saw a city clock, it was past midnight.

"The cutting board," you said suddenly. "It had blood on it."

Alexia was quiet for a moment. "I'll clean it up when we get home."

"And the counter?"

"I'll handle it, too… don't worry, petita."

You wanted to protest. The kitchen was your space. Your responsibility. But your finger throbbed under the gauze, and you felt (once again) so tired.

"Will you really buy me the salad set?" you asked, your voice low.

"Te prometo." Turning her head to you, before turning to the road. "Tomorrow, if you want."

"Okay." You leaned your head against the window, watching Barcelona pass by. "Can we get ice cream too?"

For the first time since this whole thing started, Alexia smiled. Really smiled. "Sí, cariño. Whatever you want."

For a moment, you almost felt normal again. Alexia was talking to you, being nice. It almost felt like life before Papa passed.

But when you looked down at your finger, you remembered. The pain came back, but not the physical kind.

It was that familiar ache that had settled in your chest a year ago, the one that had made a home between your ribs and wasn't planning to leave any time soon.

Your finger was there, stitched up… but you remembered how, just hours ago, you had known exactly what was wrong, exactly where the pain was coming from.

And despite everything (the hospital, the blood and the stitches) part of you already missed that clarity that came with the pain.

So you did it more times than you could count.

Misa's fingers were still gentle on your forearm, her eyes catching on old scars scattered across your hands and fingers. You tried to tell her, between cries, that they were from other cooking accidents when you were younger.

She hummed, and then her eyes fell to the new cut, the one still pouring blood.

"Let me see," she said quietly, already unwrapping the blood-soaked towel.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see her reaction.

"It's deep, I think," she murmured, then wrapped your finger in the towel again. "Let's go, I'll take you to the hospital—"

"No," you said, pulling your hand away from her. "I'll take care of it. I always have these kinds of accidents."

She looked at you suspiciously. "You'll take care of it? How? And what do you mean you always have these accidents?"

You went to the bathroom while Misa stood by the door.

You knelt on the floor and opened the bathroom cabinet, taking out a small first aid kit. You put it on the counter, holding your towel tight as you searched for the antiseptic.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. You had stopped crying now, but your nose was red, as well as your cheeks. Your clothes, too, were stained with blood.

You exhaled before taking the towel away and opening the faucet, letting the water wash away all the blood. You had grown accustomed to this happening; almost all of your fingers had little scars on them for the very same reason.

You knew how to read a wound, to know when you needed to actually go to the hospital for stitches or when you could just make a homemade bandage.

The cut on your finger was bad-ish. If you went to the hospital, you knew they would give you a stitch or two, but it wasn't that bad. It would heal on its own. You just needed to keep it clean and closed tightly.

That's what you did.

You hadn't noticed Misa standing in the bathroom doorway. She was quietly watching you, arms crossed, but her eyes were careful, taking in every single one of your actions.

You tried to ignore her presence, focusing on the makeshift bandage you were creating.

After a few minutes, you felt that the bandage was secure enough. You looked at it, moving your hand from side to side. You could move your fingers, but it hurt.

No cooking for you for the next week. You would also have to be extra careful during training.

"Didn't take you for clumsy," Misa finally said.

You gave her a side glance. "More like absent-minded," you murmured.

"Guess we'll have to take a rain check on that risotto," she said.

"Sí," you agreed, still too scared to look at her face. "Perdón."

"It's alright," she said, then took a step closer. Her hand landed on your forearm, turning you around. "Can I see it?" She looked down at your bandaged finger.

You nodded, reaching your hand out for her. She examined it, analysing and studying, as if she had been a nurse in another life.

"It looks good," she said. "Professional even."

"Sí."

"Do you do this a lot?"

You knew she was trying to be casual, trying to sound like she didn't care that much, but you could tell she was trying to pry information.

"Not a lot," you lied. "Just went to the hospital a lot for cutting my finger while cooking when I was a kid. I watched the nurses, so I kind of learned how to deal with it."

"Not a lot of kids go to the hospital for cutting their own fingers."

You didn't say anything.

"Do you have pain medicine?" she asked, tilting her head. "If you want, I can go to the pharmacy, get some for you, sí?"

You smiled sadly. "I have painkillers, thank you, though."

There was silence between the two of you, the only sound being the faucet dripping. Neither of you moved. You stayed in front of her, rigid. She was, too, but softer.

She let go of your arm and said carefully, "I don't think you're okay."

"It's just a small cut," you said.

"Not talking about the cut."

You looked at her warm eyes, how they seemed to be reading right through you.

"I think you should leave, Misa," you said.

"Do you?"

"Yes, please."

She nodded, taking a step back.

"Are you okay here alone, though?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," you said. "If I need anything, I'll go to your apartment."

"Good, you do that," she said, and then, unexpectedly, she leaned over and kissed your cheek, her lips warm against your wet skin. "I'm just a few floors away. I'm a light sleeper, so just ring the doorbell."

You felt your cheeks getting red. "Okay, thank you."

"Bye, Putellas," she said, and then she turned around and left the bathroom. You heard your front door closing, and you were alone again.

You were having breakfast the next day, the cup warm in your hands, and the smell of coffee comforting, hitting your nostrils almost like an old memory.

You had woken up to Misa's message. She had woken up thirty minutes before you and asked if you were okay. You replied quickly, telling her 'sí, thank you' before starting your morning routine.

You loved routines.

You always had breakfast at the same time every single day. You always drank the same coffee, made the same way. Routines brought you safety; you knew what to expect at all times.

What you didn't know to expect was a video call coming from your sister. Alexia was calling you. And you were, once again, frozen solid. You let it ring once, then twice.

Why was she calling you? Did something happen with Mama? Alexia never called. Alexia wasn't a morning person; she always slept late. She appreciated a good sleep.

When the third call came, you pressed accept and waited a few seconds until her face appeared.

She seemed to be sitting in her bed, holding her phone with one hand. Her jaw was locked in place. She looked worried.

Before you could say anything, her voice came through.

"Was it bad this time?" she asked straightforwardly.

She didn't need to explain what she was talking about. You already knew. You just didn't know how she knew.

"No," you told her, looking at the window, not wanting to make eye contact, not even through the screen. "Just a cut."

"They're always just a cut, though," Alexia said.

"Did Misa tell you?" you asked, pressing your lips tight.

You saw her face, how she didn't want to tell you, but it was obvious.

"I didn't know you two were friends," Alexia said.

"We aren't, not really."

"Then why was she having dinner at your place?"

You were never rude to either of your sisters, especially Alexia. But right now she was ruining your day, ruining your coffee. It didn't even taste good anymore…it tasted bitter.

You didn't want to remember everything that happened last night. You didn't need Alexia to remind you of this part of yourself that you hated so much.

It was like all the sadness, the need for attention, the need to be accepted by your sister, it was all shifitng into something sharper and dangerous. It was all turning into something that was unfamiliar to you; you didn't like it.

It was anger. Pure anger. Anger was a very well-known feeling for your sister, not for you. You found comfort in sadness, melancholy, not in rage or resentment.

"I don't need to explain anything to you," you said, feeling proud that your voice came out cold. "Not anymore."

"I know you don't," Alexia said, rolling her eyes. "But I wish you would."

You let out a dry laugh. "You wish? Then why haven't you called me in three months? Why have you been to Madrid for games and didn't even bother to visit me?"

"I've been busy, petita," Alexia said, matching your tone. "I can't run around you all the time."

"Run around me?" you said. "I'm not asking you to run around me. I'm asking you to call from time to time, just like Alba does. You don't fucking love me, and I don't know why."

Alexia froze.

Her whole face went still.

For a moment, you thought it was your wifi connection, but then you saw her blink. Saw her mouth open slightly like she was going to say something, then close again.

"I do love you," Alexia said slowly. "It's just…hard."

"What is hard?"

She waited a few seconds, as if tasting the words on her tongue. "Being around you."

The words hit you like a slap to the face.

You nodded reluctantly. Your hand went under the table, pinching your thigh, trying to keep yourself together. Trying to keep from crying.

"Being your sister, Alexia," you said, your words coming out more quieter than you meant them to. "It's like walking on glass. It hurts, it stings, and I don't know why I keep trying."

"I don't mean to hurt you," she said, emotionless. You couldnt read her face now.

"But you keep doing it," you said. "And I'm tired of feeling hurt."

Alexia's jaw tightened on the screen. She looked away for a moment, then back.

"Then why do you keep hurting yourself?" The question came out more impatiently now, frustrated.

You knew the focus was back on your finger. "Did you go to the hospital? How many times have you cut yourself since you moved? I thought you had it under control now."

"I do have it under control," you said. "I'm not a kid anymore. I know how to care for myself."

"You've been doing that since you were twelve," Alexia said, each word careful. "The first time I thought it was an accident, but then it kept happening and—"

"I have it under control," you said again, more firmly.

Alexia held the bridge of her nose through the screen.

"Have you told Mama about it?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

You shook your head. "No."

"Do you want me to tell her?"

"You already know the answer to that," you said.

You and Alexia had been having this same conversation for years now. The outcome was always the same.

"I have training," you said. "I need to go."

Alexia was quiet, reluctant to end the conversation there.

"Okay," she said, as if not believing you. "Take care of your wound, por favor. Put some alcohol on it, and don't forget to clean it."

"I know, Ale," you said, your voice a bit softer now. Tired. "Don't worry."

"Te amo," she said, and then turned off the phone.

The screen went black before you could say it back. You stared at your reflection in the dark phone screen for a moment.

Right now, you didn't know if you would have said it back anyway.

A/n: whenever I write youngest putellas, I feel like playing dolls once again hehe I hope you guys liked this chapter, I know it's a bit more heavy than the other ones. But I still enjoyed writing it, hope u enjoyed reading it.

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen @kiwidreamersstuff

[dumbbitchgalore]

Young!Reader having Dinner with Old Man!Price's Family Pt. 1🦋

Moans erupt, breaking free from the hoarseness of your throat.

Tonight was an lustfully exhausting one and it seemed as if John was not going to give up anytime soon.

Putting on your favourite mini dress with the prettiest heels to accentuate your legs already had John rolling on the floor panting like his was a doggy in heat. Doesn't help a single bit when you put on put on your shimmery body oil and makeup, all while having your hair down as Price shamelessly thinks about the one million ways he can ruin your makeup and rip that outfit off your body.

The entire drive there, John had a half-hard boner while you look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Must be the wind, huh?" You snort at your sweet boyfriend's predicament.

John's brows furrow in confusion, taking it too literally. "Honey, the windows are up, there's no wind."

You roll your eyes chuckling softly, "It means- nevermind."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Why?"

"Cause I know not knowing will make your head bust."

"Wait, do you mean my cock or my actual head-"

Sighing exasperatedly, you turn slightly in your seat to face John. "How do you equate what I just said to you cumming in your pants when you didn't even understand the 'Must've been the wind' phase? That's been around for aaaaaages!"

A raspy chuckle leaves John, "Selective humour?"

You huff in annoyance, "Oh, now you're just teasing."

"Maybe, Lovie."

John turns to face you, wanting to see what contorted facial expressions that you tried to conjure up this time only to have you push his face in the direction of the road earning yourself a rather humorous pout.

"Anyways, how the hell are you going to cover up your cock now?" You say, pointing at his now completely hardened cock.

John shakes his head, "One look at Paul's wife will make it go away."

You gasp at his retort slapping his chest. "You cannot say that about your sister-in-law, John!"

"Yes, I can. Fucking slag that one is. Making Paul all miserable."

As John's car parks into the crowded driveway of his parent's home, the smell of home cooked meals and boisterous laughter emit from inside the house.

Waking to your side of the car, John opens it holding your hand as he helps you get out making sure that you don't trip.

Clammy hands intertwine with John as he begins to feel the anxiety seep out of you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he guides you to the front door.

"Nothing's gonna happy, Birdie."

You nod nervously as John knocks on the door waiting for it to open.

A few seconds later, the door opens revealing none other than Paul's wife, Sarah.

A grimy little smirks makes it's way to her over-filled puckered lips, her words construed by the amount of filler in them.

"Look everybody! It's John and his... little lady friend."

You gulp.

Oh boy, this was going to be a long night.

[sunnythdmsbi]

Warning, long rant ahead. Decided to just say this in reblogs 👍

Both Shadow and Sonic were infested close -- if not exactly together. So I'm a little curious as to why the infestation is, from the looks of it, having its affect quicker on Sonic than it is with Shadow.

I definitely could be reaching, but idk, we still don't know all the affects the infestation has on its hosts or how quick it is, etc.

From what I've deduced, Shadow and Sonic blacked out when they got infested somewhere around the same time, then woke up. Shadow's blackout was two days, but Sonic's blackout could have at least been a little earlier than that, because we see that he woke up, went to find Tails, blacked out at least one more time, went feral, then came back to his senses and stumbled upon Shadow in the jungle. Sonics events had to have all happened during, if not a little after Shadow woke up from his Coma.

From what we've seen for now, Shadow was with Rough when he "blacked out" again, then came back to in the jungle where he see's Sonic. And that's it. How long was Shadow gone for? We don't know yet. Nor where Sonic went after he became infested or how many times he went feral and how long those times lasted.

Now that I think about it, since Shadow DID wake up so much later after his infestation, since, well, he had such a traumatic head injury and went into a Coma after the brain parasite infested him, it probably wasn't able to take full affect until after he woke up.

Well, the parasite could have been doing at least something while he was under, but idk.

I still don't know what triggers the "feral" mode exactly. Like, is it just a switch that the parasite turns on and off. Does black doom or whatever the thing is called that created these things choose when and where the bugs act? Repeat the line "Y'gaar shor guul deta shor zuerm" to activate it? It still works even if an outside presence says it as example from Rouge herself, lol. But, y'know, since we still don't know what that means and who's saying it, just guessing rn.

Shadow and Sonic were just repeating it to themselves in their state(?). But now that I think about it, the parasites or whoever is controlling them could have made them say it unvoluntarily. Like as a sort of brainwashing, curse, or other worldy spell.

Eh, Idk, again, just guessing.

Oh, yeah, back to what I was saying at the beginning, since Sonic had (probably) so much more time for the infestation to do its job, its probably been able to mess with his memory/eat his brain/grow/whatever they do in there, a lot quicker than Shadows has been able to do to him so far. Or, well, the simpler answer is that somehow one or the other is easier to control, but right now, I just don't think that's the case. And possibly the infestation could affect Shadow differently with his backround and everything?

Anyway, more evidence of this is when they were still in the van, Sonic looked as if he was remembering somehow, or simply about to confront the possibility of what he did, and then instantly, he screams in agonizing pain from most likely, the little bug parasite wiping his memories/or something else that could elicit memory less while also simultaneously putting him through that.

At least from what we've seen, Shadow hasn't experienced that yet. Or maybe he won't, as long as he doesn't fight or try to remember? Again, I don't know the full process of the parasites takeover of its host.

And lastly, just the look on Sonics face as the blood, and body matter of his brother washing off of him and down the drain is just so...empty.

Idk if it's permanent, or what the parasite did to put him in such a numb state, but it's so distant.

Even if he just didn't believe he killed Tails, his reaction to someone else's blood streaming down his body would wipe that cold, lazy demeanor off his face.

Man, I want them to make it out of this so bad. I really do.

[Just found out from Flighty herself that Sonic's mind has been "bleached". Shut off per say. I don't know what that means for him, but Jesus.]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT Ch 2 Pg 37

Nothing like an ice cold shower surrounded by armed soldiers. — Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: chaogongoozles, fiiresiidefrfr, elizard4227, grogar, Ezzoh, Eros, ivycorp, Eriirocksss, borrelia, e-dragonic mizukiz, sanicdetails, combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, quackenburt, memendoemori, trans-girl-sonic, savarsenic, Jeremy, Failteam, samethstarr, spotty8ee, Hershey K, Meekstone, Fanimesensei, Anna C, Kay_Shima, Ssolaris, TomFoolCactus55, Amy Rose and Maria Robotnik, Bakks, Vikta, Mexicanesecat, TheInfamousMan, Lucy Strange, Ultam8lifeform, Skoot, Samuil, Pitch, Parfait, Lucas, Ren, DJ, Gregg, Fynbar, Milk, Marie, Malysera, Melina, Kylee, Rabbithaver, Mythi2964, Shy, Roachmind, ShmokeJoestar,  OpPrimero, Susivoi, Ravenseeker, Reikomei, Head In A Cage, bb!, Scar, sugarplumkneecaps, SecondToInfinity, EldritchDork, Linnil, Victorygen_, Voodookidd, Zeke, HolyWater, Wickerz, Devon Douglas, strangeauthor, cybertronian-menace, GREEDREFUS, Starry, Sera, Recon, Mythrilbear, Kimmono, Sleep_Deprived_Shade, Luna3, Elleace, Drazerii, KM9K, SirQuinn, Noxsylvania, Hoppy, 16color, Hunter J Allen, Raikan, Happy1010, CesarJimenez, UnicornHaven, Camton, Generalkenobi47, TheYodelerZ, Icewolfie, Læks, Chadecules, Swoosh, jjunketsu, Tabaqui, Arx Dorn, Nanite, Roseflame24, MichelleDurham, Repmokk, SunkenCity LLC, CursedJellyWhale, Styra, mooninescent, Flyer90, Tippiko, Qisty, GhostPunk48, Liz, CetitanLost, Ralias N. Howl, Storm, Jay, Nick, Tyler JC, Taii, Madison Johnson, Millicent Dagworth, koderjojo, vizlottz, Francisco, & Yokai!

[wendichester]

Hiii I've fallen in love with your writing and I've been eating it up. I've been watching Supernatural, and I'm ashamed I didn't start it sooner. AND I fell in love with Castiel

Sooo....

If you're accepting requests, would you be able to do Fluff, like me getting a mouthful of cavities kind of writing. Maybe Castiel having a crush a not knowing how to act about it or something. Honestly as long as I'm giggling and kicking my feet it don't matter ✋️🙂‍↕️🤚

.ೃ࿔*:･ short-circuit grace,

pairing. castiel x reader ( gn )

wordcount. 518 genre. tooth-rooting fluff

warnings. castiel being confused by feelings™, awkward angel crush energy, sam and dean being so aware and mildly entertained, blushing. lots of blushing (and not just the human kind), emotional clumsiness with heart-melting sincerity

Castiel is malfunctioning again.

That’s what Dean calls it, at least—his very charming way of saying “your angel boyfriend is glitching out every time you smile at him.”

He’s not wrong.

It starts small. Little things. Castiel begins hovering—more than usual. Lurking around the war room while you read, sitting at the far end of the library table and staring like you’ve suddenly become the most complex Enochian tablet on Earth. Once, you caught him watching you make a sandwich in the kitchen like it was the key to the cosmos.

“Cas?” you asked that time, half-laughing. “You good?”

He blinked, jolted like someone had turned him back on. “…I’m uncertain.”

That had been two weeks ago. He has not improved.

Now, you’re sitting on the couch in the bunker’s living room, a bowl of popcorn in your lap, watching a movie. Dean’s on your left, Sam on the floor, and Castiel—poor, sweet, completely infatuated Castiel—is seated awkwardly beside you like the idea of “casual proximity” is a dangerous and possibly illegal activity.

You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “You okay?”

He jerks his head toward you. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“You’re sitting like someone’s trying to hack your limbs remotely.”

Dean snorts. Cas glances at him, then back to you, expression painfully earnest.

“I’m attempting to be normal,” he confesses. “But your presence makes that… difficult.”

Your heart stutters. “Oh?”

“You emit a calming energy that is simultaneously extremely distracting,” Cas says, tone flat but eyes wide. “I find myself thinking about you when I should be focused on the hunt. I remember the cadence of your voice. The curve of your handwriting. I memorized the way you laugh and I recite it to myself when things are difficult.”

You blink.

Dean lets out a low whistle. Sam looks up from the floor like this is the best episode of TV he’s ever seen.

“…Cas,” you say, stunned and gooey, “are you saying you have a crush on me?”

He tilts his head, clearly running diagnostics on the word. “If ‘crush’ means I feel a strong urge to protect you, spend time near you, and offer you flowers I stole from the neighbor’s yard—” he gestures to a small, slightly mangled bouquet beside the lamp—“then yes. I believe I do.”

You laugh. Warm and full and flustered.

Castiel immediately stiffens. “Was that incorrect? Did I misread the—”

You kiss his cheek before he can finish.

It’s soft. Quick. But it shuts him up instantly.

Cas just… freezes. His eyes go wide. His wings (which no one else can see) flare, slightly. His vessel’s face goes rosy in a way that shouldn’t be possible, and he looks like someone just handed him the stars.

You smile at him. “You’re doing great.”

Dean groans into his beer. “Oh, come on. You’re gonna make me throw up.”

Sam grins. “Let ‘em have their moment.”

Cas is still staring at you, utterly stunned.

And for the first time in a long, long time, you realize: angels don’t fall in love every day.

But when they do… they fall hard.

ꔛ. all works ; writing guidelines ; support my work .ᐟ

[pohtaytoh]

Miss Oblivious

Megan Skiendiel x Reader

A nostalgic walk down the memory lane with your wife, Megan, reminds you of your high school days. You used to be the bully, throwing sarcastic comments her way, but she was always too sweet and oblivious to realize it. You never expected to fall for the one you were trying to bully, but a moment of genuine cruelty from others finally made you stand up for her, changing everything.

The bell for lunch rang, a loud, shrill sound that usually made you happy. But today, it just made your head hurt. Your best friend, Chloe, was already packing up her books, humming some song under her breath.

"Ready to go?" she asked, her voice cheerful.

"I guess," you sighed, stuffing a textbook into your backpack. "I'm just tired."

You and Chloe walked out of the classroom, and that's when you saw her. Megan Skiendiel. She was a total weirdo. Her clothes were always a little… strange. A long, frilly skirt that looked like it belonged to a doll, a bright pink sweater with little embroidered cats on it, and shoes that looked like they were from a different decade.

Chloe nudged you with her elbow. "Look," she whispered, "it's Skiendiel."

You rolled your eyes. You didn't get why Chloe was so interested in her. Megan was just… there. She was quiet, and she had a habit of taking everything people said literally. It was annoying.

You watched as Megan walked past you. The long skirt swayed around her knees, and a sarcastic comment bubbled up inside you. You couldn't help it. It was like a game.

"Nice skirt," you called out, your voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Did your grandma buy it for you?"

You expected her to look sad, or maybe even angry. You expected her to shrink away. But she didn't. Megan stopped and looked at you, her big, brown eyes wide and bright. A small, shy smile spread across her face.

"Oh, thank you!" she said, her voice soft and a little high. "She did! She said it reminded her of a fairytale princess. I'm glad you like it too!"

Chloe snorted a laugh, but you just stared at Megan. Your little joke hadn't landed at all. Megan actually thought you were being nice. You felt a weird mix of frustration and… something else. You didn't like how it made you feel.

"Whatever," you muttered, grabbing Chloe's arm and pulling her toward the cafeteria.

The next week, in science class, you were learning about biology, and it was the most boring thing ever. Chloe was sitting next to you, doodling on her notebook.

"This class makes me want to..." she trailed off, trying to find the right word. "What's that word? When you feel like your soul is leaving your body?"

You smirked, looking toward the front of the classroom. Megan was sitting there, quietly taking notes. The girl was so focused on her work, it was like she was in a different world.

"Maybe Skiendiel knows," you said, a teasing tone in your voice. "She likes weird things. Maybe she knows all the weird words for feelings."

You thought Megan would get the hint that you were making fun of her. You expected her to keep her head down and ignore you.

But, of course, she didn't.

Megan looked up, her head tilted to the side like a little bird. "Oh! You mean 'ennui'?" she asked, her voice a gentle whisper that still carried across the quiet classroom. "It's a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement. It's often used to describe boredom with the whole world."

Chloe's eyes went wide. She looked at you, then at Megan, and back at you again. She couldn't believe it. You couldn't either. The word was so specific, so big. And Megan just knew it. She had her own little world of facts and words, and she was happy to share it with you, thinking you were just asking a simple question.

"Wow," Chloe whispered to you. "She's like a walking dictionary."

You just shook your head. You had no idea what to say. Your attempts to be mean were failing, and in the most confusing way possible. It was like you were speaking a different language than everyone else.

A few days later, you had to do a group activity in gym class. The teacher told you to pair up and stand in a line. Chloe and you were a team, but the line was long, and you were at the end of it. Megan was standing right behind you.

The teacher started giving instructions, and Megan slowly moved forward, getting closer to you. You could feel her presence, so close that if you took a step back, you'd bump into her. A shiver went down your spine, but not a good one. It was a feeling of being trapped. You didn't want Megan so close to you.

So, you did what anyone in your position would do. You took a big, obvious step to the side. You moved away from her, creating a large space between you. You wanted her to know you didn't want her next to you.

Chloe looked at you with a confused expression. You just glared at her, letting her know not to say anything.

You peeked at Megan from the corner of your eye, ready to see a look of hurt on her face. But instead, Megan was smiling. A small, happy smile. She looked down at the space you had made, and then back at you.

"Oh," she said quietly. "You understand. Thank you."

What did you understand? You didn't understand anything.

Megan leaned forward a little and whispered, "I get overwhelmed when people are too close. My personal space is important. You're so kind to give me room. Thank you."

You froze. Your brain was completely short-circuited. Megan thought you were being kind. She thought you were respecting her "personal space."

You wanted to shout, "No! I just don't want to be near you!" but the words wouldn't come out. It was all too much. Megan was taking your rude actions and turning them into acts of kindness.

You felt like you were losing your mind.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and you were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone, when it buzzed with a message. It was from Megan. You don't even remember giving her your number, but you guess she got it from the class list.

Megan: Hi! I'm going to the mall today. Do you want to come? I could use some help picking out some clothes.

You stared at the message, completely baffled. Why would she invite you? After all the things you'd done? You felt a flash of anger. This was all just too much. You typed out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

I don't go to the "mall." I go to fancy boutiques to get my clothes. I'm busy.

You hit send and waited for Megan to reply. You were sure she would be sad and leave you alone. But your phone buzzed a few seconds later.

Megan: Oh! You don't know what a mall is? Don't worry, I can show you! It's super fun! I'll come pick you up in an hour!

You groaned out loud. This was a nightmare. Megan was so convinced that you were nice, that she was now going to drag you to a mall to show you what it was. You were trapped. You messaged Chloe to tell her what was happening, and she just sent back a bunch of laughing emojis.

An hour later, there was a knock at your door. It was Megan. She was wearing a strange outfit today—a long dress with a floral pattern and a straw hat. It was cute, in a weird way.

Megan was so happy to see you, a wide smile on her face. "Ready to go on an adventure?" she asked, her eyes sparkling.

You just rolled your eyes and followed her to her car.

The mall was loud and busy. People were everywhere, and the stores were bright and colorful. Megan was in her element. She moved through the crowd with a happy bounce in her step, looking at everything with a sense of wonder.

She dragged you from store to store, holding up clothes she thought were cute. It was all a lot to take in. You were trying your best to stay in the shadows, hoping no one would see you with Megan. You knew the popular kids would tease you for hanging out with someone so… different.

You were walking past a group of guys who were laughing and talking loudly. As you passed, one of them looked at Megan's dress and scoffed.

"Look at that," he said to his friends, loud enough for you to hear. "She looks like she's going to a tea party with her grandma."

His friends laughed, and you felt a wave of coldness wash over you. You looked at Megan, ready to see her dismiss it with her usual oblivious cheerfulness. But this time, she didn't. Her smile slowly faded. She looked down at the floor, and her shoulders drooped.

You kept walking, and you noticed a tear roll down her cheek. She didn't make a sound, but she was crying. Your heart clenched in your chest. You felt a rush of anger you didn't know you had. You wanted to turn around and shout at those guys.

But before you could, Megan stopped walking. She was standing by a big window display, looking at her reflection. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, and her voice was a small, shaky whisper.

"I don't understand," she said, her voice filled with a deep sadness. "Why are people so mean? I don't know how to read them. I don't know what they mean when they say things like that."

She looked at her reflection, then back at you. "I don't know if they're joking, or if they're serious. I just... I wish I knew."

That was it. That was the moment everything changed. Seeing her standing there, so small and sad, broke something inside you. All your little jokes, all your sarcastic comments, they hadn't been jokes at all. They had been tiny little cuts, and Megan was just too sweet and too trusting to see them for what they were. Your mean words had hurt her, even if she didn't know it at the time.

And that made you angrier than anything else.

"Don't listen to them," you said, your voice firm. You took a step closer to her, your hands balling into fists. "They're just stupid. They don't know anything."

You looked at the group of guys who were still laughing in the distance. "They're jealous," you said, your voice getting louder. "They're jealous because you're real. You're not like everyone else, and that's a good thing. They just don't get it."

Megan looked at you, her eyes still watery. "You... you really think so?"

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. "Yes. I know so."

You took her hand. Her skin was soft and warm. "Let's go," you said, your voice gentler now. "Let's get out of here. We can go get ice cream instead."

Megan's sad face slowly turned into a small smile. "Okay," she said. "Ice cream sounds nice."

As you walked out of the mall, you didn't care about what anyone thought. You didn't care that people were looking at you, or that a few of the popular kids might see you with Megan. All you cared about was her hand in yours, and the small, happy smile on her face.

It was the first time you had ever been truly nice to her, and it felt a lot better than being mean.

Ten years later...

You woke up to the sound of soft humming. The sun was streaming through the curtains, and the smell of coffee was in the air. You stretched and smiled, a peaceful feeling washing over you. You rolled over in bed to see Megan, your wife of three years, standing by the window, her arms wrapped around her waist, still humming that quiet tune.

Megan turned around and saw you were awake. She gave you a sweet, sleepy smile and came over to the bed, sitting on the edge and running her fingers through your hair.

"Good morning," she whispered, her voice still a little groggy from sleep.

"Good morning," you whispered back, your hand reaching up to hold hers.

Megan giggled and leaned down to kiss your forehead. "You're so cute when you're sleepy."

You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about how you got here. From a girl who took all your mean comments as compliments, to the woman who was now your whole world. It was a strange journey, but you wouldn't change a thing.

A small frown appeared on Megan's face, and her eyes looked far away, like she was remembering something.

"You know," she said quietly, her voice a little more serious. "I had a dream last night."

"Oh yeah? What about?" you asked, your voice still soft.

"About high school," Megan said, her eyes looking into yours. "I dreamt that you used to bully me."

You froze. Your breath hitched in your throat. You stared at Megan, waiting for a look of hurt, or anger. But her expression was just one of confusion and wonder.

"You'd say mean things, and I'd just think you were being nice," she continued, a small laugh escaping her lips. "I kept thinking, 'Oh, she's just being sarcastic, but she really loves my clothes.' And I thought you knew all about my personal space and my love for big words."

She shook her head, a soft smile on her face. "It was so silly. You were so bad at bullying me, my brain just fixed it and made you nice."

You didn't know what to say. Your past self was cringing in your head. You wanted to tell her the truth, that you were a terrible person back then. But you didn't want to hurt her. Not now. Not ever.

Megan looked at you, a question in her eyes. "You didn't really bully me, did you?"

You let out a long breath, a small, tired laugh escaping your lips. "Yes, I did," you said, your voice quiet. "I was an idiot back then. I was a terrible person."

Megan didn't get mad. She didn't get sad. She just looked at you with those same bright, brown eyes from all those years ago.

"I'm glad you stopped," she said simply.

You pulled her closer, your arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her into the bed with you. Megan snuggled into your chest, her head resting on your shoulder.

"Yes, I bullied you," you mumbled, your voice muffled in her hair. "It didn't work. Now we're married. Go to sleep."

Megan giggled, a warm, happy sound that filled the room. "Okay, wife," she said, her voice soft and full of love. "Okay.”

a/n: Hi guys! It's been a while huh? I got inspired by this comic that I saw on tiktok, it was sooo adorable, and I had to do it you know? I hope y'all love it. I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF, LOOK AT THAT COVER PHOTO >.< !!! (obviously there's still room for improvement but patatas is practicing tehee) TOTS! TOTS! TATER TOTS!

[besidesjustmyamour]

roommate!nanami at the beginning of a bdsm dungeon era.

roommate!nanami who didn't really indulge himself in horny things because they were deemed 'unprofessional'. like for instance, that time when you were watching fifty shades of grey just for fun.

"what are you watching?" "fifty shades of grey. this movie pisses me off." "then why are you watching it?" "because i'm bored. c'mon, you haven't seen it?" "i have not." "this is going to be fun."

roommate!nanami who visibly grew more and more concerned as the movie went on. you watched his reactions more than the actual screen, tantalizing, grinning, laughing at his horror.

"why is he doing that to her? is this enjoyable?" "i mean, who knows? it looks funny." "she doesn't seem to find it as humorous as you do." "you're getting too worked up over it. this is just a movie." "that doesn't make it right. does this... interest you?" "i mean... i don't know. maybe?"

roommate!nanami who, for all his horror and theatrics, couldn't stop thinking about that movie. thinking about doing that... to you. how pretty you would look, skin flushed, moans choked, eyes bleary. he had to take a few steps back, grip the counter. you glanced at him over your shoulder, brows knitting together in concern.

"ken? are you okay?" "yes. i'm fine." "you don't look fine. you look... sweaty." "i do not look sweaty." "go take a bath before dinner or something."

roommate!nanami who replayed what you said. the movie pissed you off---therefore you wouldn't want that to happen to you. the movie happened to piss him off too. there was obviously no chemistry between the leads and the sex felt rushed. clipped, even.

sex with you wouldn't feel like that. he would worship you.

roommate!nanami curled a fist against the shower walls, trying to drown his feelings under the relentless patter of water on his back.

"you still look weird. what's going on? did i do something wrong?" "what? no. why would you assume that?" "it's just... ever since we watched that movie together... i don't know. do you think i'm a freak or something now? i was... y'know, just messing around. i'm not..." "what are you trying to say?" "if i grossed you out or something, i'm sorry. i'll stop." "we were watching a movie together. there's nothing strange about it." "then why are you acting weird?" "... it's been a stressful week at the agency." "oh, ken. is there anything i can do to take your mind off of it?"

roommate!nanami didn't think this would be happening. not in his wildest dreams. not in his dirtiest fantasies. he wouldn't dream of hurting you... but sometimes you could be such a brat.

you were sprawled out beneath him, completely naked, and somehow you were everything he wanted and more. he grabbed your wrist, yanking you up and pulling you against his still-clothed body.

"how's that for blowing off some steam?" you teased.

"better," he mumbled, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "but you're still talking too much." he spun you around and bent you back over the bed, pushing your body down against the mattress. "less noise, more obedience. that's what i need right now."

"w-whatever you need," you repeat, voice muffled into the sheets. there's some kind of sick satisfaction that blooms in his chest when you're drooling into his bed and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"is this what you wanted? when you made me watch that movie," he whispers, breath ghosting across your body.

"i-i didn't make you do anything!" you protest.

roommate!nanami pushes you back into the sheets, ripping a fratured moan from your parted lips.

"no, you knew exactly what you were doing, showing me that." he swings a leg over your hip, caging your body underneath his. "you want me to do this to you. you're going to scream my name until the entire complex knows exactly who you belong to."

"ken," you groan. "i've never heard you---mmph---like this before."

that's because you don't know what the fuck you do to me.

roommate!nanami doesn't say that. instead, he hooks his fingers under his tie, loosening it around your neck and pulling it over his head. you feel the warmth of his fingertips trail up your body, suddenly grabbing your wrists and pinning them back down.

his voice is muffled when he speaks again, presumably because his tie is caught between his teeth. "can't... can't wait any longer." the smooth tie slips around your wrists pulling them together and locking them over your head.

roommate!nanami's fingers part your clenched thighs, two thick digits plunging knuckle-deep into your soaked folds without hesitation. he pumps them in and out of your squelching heat, curling them to rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you.

you arch off the bed, and without a slip of movement, his other palm splays flat across your back, guiding you back into the sheets you scrabble at with your tied hands.

"this is how i know you wanted this," he chuckled, ever calm and soothing, voice crackling up your spine. "you just wanted someone to boss you around, is that it? someone to put you in your place?"

roommate!nanami chuckles low and deep. it's a sound of amusement and mockery that passes the wane of his lips, pressed up against your neck.

it's strange. tension is seeping from his coiled muscles, but he hasn't even undressed yet. fully clothed, but your choked sobs as you buck against his fingers, hips rolling against the tilted plane of his arm is all he needs for tonight.

the morning after, you wake to the warmth of his bed. roommate!nanami is nowhere to be found. for a moment, you wonder if last night really did freak him out to the point of fleeing.

but his figure appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame, honeyed eyes washing over you appreciatively. in his hand is a plate of buttered toast, just the way you like it.

"you think i'm a freak for liking that, don't you?" "it was intriguing. i don't mind helping you out with your... interests." "that makes it sound like you kind of liked it too." "perhaps 'kind of' is an understatement." "woah, nanami kento is a secret freak?!" "..." "i'm kidding, i'm kid---wait. seriously?" "you're getting a little too bold." "you think i need to be punished again?" "perhaps."

okay, so maybe the movie wasn't all bad.

a/n: i rewatched fifty shades of grey with my friend and it was absolutely just as horrible as the first time and EW she was like 'omg are you into that' and i was like 'uhm... no???' and she was like 'okay rope bunny' tsk tsk dividers by bbyg4rlhelps !!!

[bookshelfdreams]

The United States though IS the most imperial country by a long shot

Is it, though? Remind me why they speak so much Spanish (and Portugese) in South America? Why out of 54 African countries, 18 have French as their official language (alongside another or even as the only one) and it is one of the official languages of the African Union? Even if we are only talking about modern imperialism, you should read up on the New Silk Road sometime. And while you're there, check out that war of territorial expansion that guy is currently waging in Europe for the express purpose of restoring his empire to its former glory. Wild stuff.

the most militaristic country

(x)

This statistic shows military spending in relation to gross domestic product in 2024 which is, imo, a better metric than sheer number of dollars spent. Worth noting that we do not have reliable numbers for every country; North Korea would probably score pretty high, too. Y'all don't even have compulsory military service or do a lot of parades. Come on now.

the most capitalistic country

How do you even measure which country is "the most" capitalistic?

the most exploitative and culturally dominating and economically and politically centralizing country

Hang on, that's a lot. The most exploitative: In what terms, an also, sources please. Culturally dominating: in the "west", maybe, but also, if you don't expose yourself to international culture (books, music, movies, art, poetry, architecture and so on and so forth) that's kind of a you problem. Economically and politically centralizing: What do you even mean by that?

No country currently around has caused as much global political damage to other countries as the United States.

Germany started not one, but two entire world wars, the effects of which can be felt to this very day, but go off, I guess.

And if you want to look at what it's done and continues to do to the native people's of North America, it's been bad since before it even existed.

Yes. It's terrible what happened and continues to happen to the Native American Peoples, both in the USA and in Canada. Atrocities have happened, and continue to happen, to ethnic minorities all over the world. You could look up the Sámi people. Or the colonization of SIberia. Or what Belgium did in the Congo. Or the colonization of Africa in general, dear god. Or... well, you get the point. That's not to downplay the genocide of Native American peoples; it is, once again, to say that the USA is not special.

It is at its core an uber liberal humanist country, and those are the things that fascism even comes from.

Oh okay, I didn't know fascism was a liberal, humanist ideology. I thought it was authoritarian, far-right, and nationalist, and therefore the opposite of liberalism and humanism. But please do explain how fascism is humanist, and explain what humanism is while you're at it. Or actually don't because you're just gonna do that thing where you come up with an alternate definition for well-established terms that no one uses but a handful of people, to make yourself seem more reasonable.

The US is an empire and a blight on the world that has directly caused suffering for billions of people. Its gravity cannot be ignored. To do so is geopolitical ignorance.

Okay look. On the off chance that you're still reading: Obviously the USA has done, and continues to do, a lot of damage. No one is disputing that, least of all me. What I am arguing against here, is casting the USA as some kind of global supervillain, and by extension all its people as inherently "fascist and evil" (that's a direct quote I saw, btw, that's not a word choice I came up with). That line of thinking is propaganda, just as much as American Exceptionalism is.

If we only focus on the USA, we rob other actors of their autonomy. Countries are plenty able to commit atrocities all on their own. The USA is not the sole originator of violence in the world. Acting like it is (or focusing on it to the point where we overlook other actors) just serves to bolster the agendas of other global players - agendas that are often equally as fucked up, if not more so.

This is what I am opposing. The notion that the USA is The Worst, and therefore, opposing global superpowers must be "better". That it must be opposed, at all times, and by whatever means necessary. That everything is justified as long as it is against the USA.

That's bullshit. Sorry. Worse, that's a justification for pain and suffering, as long as it is caused by anyone else.

"America is a deeply fascist and evil country" actually, the USA is a normal country. Y'all are neither uniquely good nor uniquely evil. Some things are good, some things are deeply fucked, most things are flawed but functional. Some US-Americans are saints, some are assholes, most are somewhere in the middle. If any other country had the same economic and political power as the USA, the world would not be a better place.

Believing the USA is The Most Evil is just American Exceptionalism in a different hat.

[bewitched-hours]

Hmmmmmmmms I think I haves an idea I say with joys!

Shark Mermaid! Reader x Daisy1337 ( HELL YWAH POLYCULE with one of my fav ships LES GOOOO)

Ok so instead of reader being permanently a fish thing, only changes when they hit the water. Soo they still integrated into Robloxian life and we were doing a damn good job at it( if you look past the sharp CHOMPERS and all), heck we even managed to become friends with Daisy and Guest 1337 ( Denial is a river) or maybe more idk you've never quite understood land walkers emotions very well( it shows cos they are quite literally discussing having a POLYCULE with your oblivious self). You're too busy dreaming about seafood to even bother with their obvious hints

Welp sometimes you sneak out for awhile to a lake nearby, it's no pearly ocean but at least it's secluded enough that nobody goes here so nobody catches you being well you( yeah your currently being a feral lil shit right now eating all the fishes ). Yeaaaa till Daisy and Guest 1337 decide to have a fishing trip in that exact lake your currently swimming about. And we try so hard not to get caught, we really do to our credit but no Roblox gods decided that they want this ship to sail so you still end up getting caught,well for good reason Guest 1337 accidentally fell in so you push him back up( he thought he was cooked as soon as he saw the shark fin) Probably pulled you up as well only to see your legs replaced with a shark's tail. Despite how on guard you were, I mean as soon as they saw you like this they were gonna ship you off for money, plus your a Shark aren't Robloxian's scared off you, might aswell start saying goodbye to freedom- you're hearing a confession from the two of them...Welp thank goodness we have two hands :D

Oh god I can hear the H2O memories flooding back

Anyways it's ya girl

Yapper Anon

YAPPER WE BOTH WATCHED H2O OMG- I LIVED FOR THAT SHOW AS A KID, THANK YOU FOR THIS DELICIOUS MEAL AND LETTING ME BE A FERAL LIL SHIT- Honestly I'm imagining this as a mix of Black Pearl Cookie and Sorbet Shark Cookie but ofc Robloxian

READER GETS SHE/THEY Y'ALL

You could be considered somewhat of a mermaid... Except your fish part was that of a shark... Along with scales scattered over your skin and your ears looking more like fins and-

But you could take on a robloxian form to live normally. If you ignore the fact your teeth were still razor sharp-

Didn't seem like Guest and Daisy minded it though, that's probably why they were your only friends. Technically also Charlotte but you doubted she had a single bad bone in her body, that was also why you could never say no to her.

How did it come to this? Well....

It started when you would still wear one of those fashionable masks around to cover your teeth to visit Builder Brother's Pizzaria. You just loved pizza and would always order it with whatever fishy toppings you could get.

Most people would ignore you and just excuse you as some punk when you'd pay the workers with some money you stole without being noticed. Not like you had a home to be traced back to but you looked well off enough so people didn't know you were homeless. You just looked like some punk who would go around spraying graffiti. You thought it was cool.

But one day, little Charlotte decided to notice how you were eating your pizza and excitedly ran up to your table to ask about your teeth, startling both you and her parents. Yeah, that was how your friendship with them started...

You eventually made up some backstory of your parents kicking you out and you struggling to find a job, which was only a half-truth. Sharks did tend to be born independent and don't grow up with parents nor the need for a job but they didn't need to know that. What they did know though, was that they happily accepted you into their home. It honestly shocked you but they had been so kind to you that you couldn't decline. You felt bad not rewarding their efforts and basically became the go-to babysitter for Charlotte, considering she seemed to absolutely love you. It warmed your partially warm-blooded heart and you were absolutely in tears over how cute she was.

Hell, Guest and Daisy didn't even know when they started falling for your unusual charms but they certainly began dropping hints and talking about including a third in their marriage, all while you were being supportive and completely oblivious to the obvious signs.

Hey, you were still half-shark so it was only to be expected that you struggled with emotions. Although... Maybe they didn't need to know that...

It was honestly kinda cute how oblivious you seemed about it. You'd have no problem asking them how polycules even work and supporting their decision but somehow it never clicked why they were telling you this. You figured it was because you lived with them but it never occurred to you that there might be other reasons.

It also never occurred to you why you felt so warm around them. Surely it was just because you were grateful for their kindness... Right-?

"Just be sure to stay safe, [Reader]!" Daisy wished you farewell for now, knowing that you sometimes liked to just take a stroll around and explore. It became a normal thing for you to disappear for a couple hours some nights after Charlotte was settled into bed so your departure wouldn't be interrupted by her using those puppy-dog-eyes to get you to stay.

You just nodded with a chuckle and were practically beaming as you headed to a new lake you had found on your last expedition. You could smell the delicious fish without even touching the water and it made you hungry beyond belief.

Setting aside clothes in a small bag by a large rock, you nearly dove into the water to let the scales cover your most important parts while your legs began to morph into the shark tail you were so familiar with. it nearly reached up to your chest but you thought that just make you look cooler. Kinda like those mermaids Charlotte showed you in one of her storytime books. Oh, if only she could see this form, she'd probably freak out and ask you a million questions...

But this was your alone time. A couple hours to let your instincts take over and seek the thrill of the hunt. The adrenaline that came from how fast you were was deliciously intoxicating but you didn't want to keep your new family waiting.

Wait... New family? Why was that your thought?

No matter, you wouldn't let this matter interfere with your plans as you enjoyed trapping and gnawing the different fishes swimming the lake. It was like a free buffet, how could you deny yourself that?!

Well... Pretty easily it seems by how quickly you scattered to the nearest cave when a boat casted a shadow above you. You were a little confused but something told me there could only be two people on that boat... And it was the last two Robloxians you would want to see in your current form...

Of course it had to be them. Of course it had to be Daisy and Guest. They were the only ones you've told about the lake and if anyone else knew of it, it wouldn't be so overgrown with moss and flora.

Okay, you could probably relax. They didn't know you were here and you can probably just wait until they're gone and-

Why did you just feel a ripple in the water-?

Panicked, you looked out to see a swarm of electric eels attempting to pull Guest down by his arms. Oh... Oh hell no...

Before they could get any deeper down, you charged right at them and swatted them away from Guest before pushing him back towards the boat. Eels really were some annoying pests...

You originally just wanted to bring him back up and disappear back into the water to deal with the eels so you could assert dominance over them but were stopped when Guest managed to grab your arm and lift you out of the water. "[Reader]?!" Him and Daisy exclaimed in unison, shocked at your form as you nervously squirmed in his arms. You were so dead, there was no way they wouldn't-

"Is this why you were so nervous around water?" Daisy asked, surprising you as you suddenly froze up. "Were you afraid how we'd react?"

You weren't exactly sure what to say. Why were they still so gentle with you? why did they act so casual about this?

Regardless, you just nodded and looked down to your tail fin as your ears started folding downwards in slight shame. You didn't even know why you felt so warm in the face even as the two couldn't help but chuckle. "You're adorable, you know that?" Daisy eventually commented, making your head whip around in shock before glancing back at your tail and back at her.

"Adorable?" You asked in disbelief. "I'm quite literally half-shark and you think I'm... Adorable??" You were confused beyond belief, especially when she began to nod in agreement.

"We know you wouldn't harm us. Humans aren't tasty to sharks." Guest spoke calmly behind you. You were surprised he knew about that fact since not many people seemed bothered enough to learn about sharks. "And it certainly would explain the teeth..."

Oh... Right-

You were caught off guard once more when both of them suddenly took to kissing you. One on your neck and one on your forehead as your face turned beet-red. "Wh-what is this?!" You asked as your body suddenly felt much warmer in contrast to the cold night air. "Why does that make me feel so warm and- and happy?!"

You groaned in frustration, only amplified as the two of them began wrapping themselves around you in almost a cuddle pile. "I'm thinking you're describing... Love!" Daisy teased, peppering your face with more kisses and giggling over how shy it seemed to make you as you quickly threw your hands over your face to hide it. "Why is love so fuzzy and warm..." You whined, unsure if you liked the feeling. It was strange and unfamiliar but also interesting and alluring... Maybe the thrill of the hunt could-

Oh wait- you were drying up because of them-

"Clothes- Clothes-!" You panicked, nervously wiggling around as Guest finally let you go and Daisy worked to get her jacket around you like a blanket. "... Thank you..." You muttered in embarrassment, pointing towards the stone where your bag was when Guest asked about it and stealing a peck on your lips as he got himself propped up to steer the boat towards it. You could be called a potato with how red in the face you were and clearly the two enjoyed every second of it while you slowly got used to their affections, even leaning into it or even attempting to mimic them by the time you all decided to head back home.

There would be a lot of explaining to do to Charlotte in the morning and a lot of sick time for Guest...

Honestly the whole "Another creature drags them down" felt more satisfying-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[paracosm-draw]

Heyo! Just saw you're taking prompts. If it's up your alley, maybe something with rich and famous (politician, actor, businessman) Obi-Wan meeting grad student Anakin?

Oh I had a lot of fun writing this one 😆

Thank you for this prompt that made me cringe every five seconds for Anakin, I hope you'll like it as I took some liberties with Obi's occupations 🫶🏻

(Still taking prompts ☄️)

~~~

"Anakin, no."

"Oh, Anakin fucking yes." The concerned one retorted with an ominous grin as his gaze traveled slowly to the other side of the cafeteria. "Have you looked at him ?"

"I did !" The brunette seated in front of him hissed. "And I won't let you mess with one of my father's best friends just because you can't keep it in your pants !"

Anakin's grin widened as his eyes stayed glued to the man queueing at the self-service desk with a salad on his tray.

"I wonder how he is keeping it in his pants. It looks hug- Ouch !"

Anakin jolted back to his friend all the while reaching under the table to massage his shin with a wince.

"Did you just hit me ?!"

Padme glared at him from above her own half-eaten salad, arms crossed against her slim chest.

"Stop staring at my father's friend like a freaking pervert ! You're going to get him and us in trouble."

Anakin sniffed as his lips turned to a pout. He shrugged.

"Your father doesn't have to know about it. I know how to be discreet. I know plenty of places where you can suck a dick without anyone know- I'm joking. I'm joking !"

He quickly raised his legs on his chair as Padme's glare intensified, but as tall as he was he still managed to hit his knees under the table anyway.

"I know you're not joking." Padme sighed, but she was a woman of little faith, or she knew him too well. He preferred to believe the former.

"You're the one always complaining about my lack of romantic life." Anakin pointed out.

"Sucking stranger's dicks in old abandoned classrooms is not what I call a romantic life, Anakin." His friend retorted flatly.

"Maybe he's the love of my life ?" Anakin tried. "He's totally my type. Do you want me to live sad and alone my entire life because you didn't let me find out ?"

"You don't even have a type !" Padme exclaimed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "You think that every fling you've got is the love of your life !"

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Anakin replied, crossing his arms against his chest as well, like it could protect his bruised ego from his friend's absolutely false allegations. "And I do have a type."

"What is it then ?"

"Him."

"You're insufferable." Padme groaned, pushing her meal away. "Plus, he's at least twice your age. He's probably married with three kids, a dog and a monospace."

"You could always ask..."

Anakin knew he was becoming a pain in Padme's ass at an alarming rate, but he couldn't help it. The attraction he had felt when the man had entered the amphitheatre earlier in the morning to present their robotic company was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. Or ever.

"I'm certainly not asking my father about his friend that you want to fuck."

Hearing Padme lose her calm and use the word "fuck" was one of the rare delights in Anakin's current life. He could have stopped there, but he had never learned to be reasonable.

"Oh, come on. I'm not going to fuck him, he's going to fuck me."

"It's the same thing ! You know what I mean."

"Well, it's not exactly the same-" Anakin grinned, ready to give her some details as a revenge for the comments on his love life, when someone cleared his throat behind him.

"Hello there. I hope I'm not interrupting something. I was looking for a place to sit but it seems like the whole room is already packed with starving students."

Anakin closed his mouth with an audible click, before slowly turning his head to the unmistakable accent he had fallen in love with during the last two hours. And stared.

Kenobi was standing next to their table, in his white shirt and well-fitted sandy pants, holding his tray in his strong hands - no rings in sight - and Anakin felt like falling in love all over again. His eyes were even bluer now that he could see them up close, little streaks of gray interwoven in the copper of his beard, a cute little mole decorating the top of his right cheek and as Anakin's eyes focused on his nose he realized he had some adorable freckles there. Absolutely perfect.

"Can I sit there ?" The man asked, and Anakin realized he must have stared awkwardly for a long time when Padme stepped on his foot under the table.

He winced as she gestured to the man to take place.

"Of course, Mister Kenobi." She answered, all the while sending a murderous gaze to her friend. "It would be a pleasure."

"Why, thank you." The man replied with a polite smile, before putting his tray down next to Padme's, so Anakin was right in front of him. "You already seem to know me, so should I deduce that you were at the presentation earlier on ?"

"This one was." Padme replied, nodding at Anakin. "I'm just keeping him company during lunch."

"Oh, I see." The man smiled, before turning his attention to Anakin, who hadn't stopped staring. "And you are...?"

Anakin blinked, and it took another blow on his shin for him to get it together.

"Uh... I'm Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker, I mean. You can just call me Anakin, tho-" He stammered awkwardly as the man in front of him raised an eyebrow.

Anakin closed his mouth as a faint blush crept on his cheeks. If first impressions were important, he was certain he had just fucked up that part.

"Well, nice to meet you and your friend, Anakin Skywalker." Kenobi smiled lightly before holding out a hand to him.

Anakin's brain froze for a moment. Was the man asking for something ? He looked at his hand, before looking over the table, finally searching for his friend's eyes when he found nothing to give him.

Padme was looking at him with wide eyes that screamed "are you stupid ?", and Anakin probably was because it took a couple of seconds and Padme to mouth him "just shake it" to finally understand what was going on.

"Oh, uh- Sorry." He mumbled before reaching out to shake Kenobi's hand, the blush spreading to his ears and the tip of his nose.

He didn't dare look at him in the eyes after such a display of stupidity but Kenobi didn't seem to mind. He gently shook Anakin's hand, but when he was supposed to let go, he didn't. Instead, his fingers circled Anakin's wrist and he turned it slightly with an interested noise.

"What model is that, if you don't mind me asking ?"

Anakin blinked, then frowned. He dared looking up only to find out that Kenobi was closely examining his prosthesis with light touches and curiosity written on his features. Of course. How could he forget who he was talking to ? The man probably invented the blueprint of the model he wore right now.

"It's... Something I made myself." He admitted coily. "I know it's not perfect but-"

"You made this yourself ?" Kenobi interrupted him, surprise pushing his voice a note higher. "Really ?"

"Really." Anakin replied, letting a nervous laugh as the man looked at the prosthesis with renewed interest.

He glanced at Padme, who shrugged.

"This is excellent work." Kenobi finally stated, letting Anakin take his hand back. "You're talented."

Anakin immediately regretted the lack of contact, the warmth of Kenobi's hand on the sensors of his artificial skin. And he was all flustered by the compliment. Most people didn't even dare look at his prosthesis, even less ask questions about it.

"Thank you, sir. It means a lot coming from someone like you." He said, before clearing his throat and adding. "I lost it in a motorbike accident."

He didn't know why he had felt the need to share this information but he almost heard Padme internally facepalm in front of him. He didn't dare look in her direction.

"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that." Kenobi replied, his eyes softening in a way that made Anakin's heart ache.

"It's okay." He managed. "It was a long time ago."

2 years, in fact.

"So you ride ?" Kenobi asked.

"I did." Anakin nodded. "But Padme wouldn't let me after the accident."

A glint of recognition suddenly lighted up in Kenobi's eyes at the words, and he turned to Anakin's friend.

"Miss Amidala ! I'm so confused, I didn't even recognize you."

"It's been a while." Padme acknowledged with a smile. "I might have been twelve at the time ? Thirteen ?"

"You sure have grown up." Kenobi laughed. "Your father told me you wished to enter the Senate in a couple of years ?"

"Indeed." Padme smiled sheepishly. "I hope so."

She looked at her watch, before looking at Anakin.

"Speaking of, I should get back to my office." She got up with her tray. "Mister Kenobi, it's been a pleasure. Anakin, I see you tomorrow."

Anakin blew her a little kiss as the man shook her hand as well, saying something about her career and her father but he wasn't listening anymore. He was looking at Kenobi, at his gentle face and the softness of his hands, and the interest he showed for Anakin's craft. It made him look even more sexy. He had to try something. Anything.

"So," Kenobi turned back to him as Padme walked away. He leaned forward slightly, putting his elbows on the table, his meal completely ignored by now. "Do you miss riding ?"

Anakin raised his eyebrows, a bit taken aback by the question. But the answer was easy.

"Yes." He admitted. "A lot."

"Do you have any classes this afternoon ?"

"I- Uh, I have one." Anakin frowned. "Why ?"

Kenobi leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms against his chest, his gaze slowly traveling up and down Anakin's form, making the young man squirm on his seat.

"What do you say I take you for a ride so we can go grab a coffee and talk about your future in my company ?"

Anakin's jaw dropped on the table. It was the boldest thing someone has ever asked him, for a lot of different reasons. If Kenobi wanted to steal his heart, he couldn't have done it any other way.

"I- Are you serious ?!" He couldn't help but blurt out.

"Dead serious." Kenobi nodded. "Your talent and your work deserve to grow in an environment that allows you to be at your best."

"I mean- I mean, for the ride ?" Anakin stuttered, not believing his ears. "You'd let me ride your bike ?"

"Oh yeah." Kenobi grinned. "My bike, too."

[auroracalisto]

clark kent x gn!reader — not even going to title this one because it is just a self-indulgent blurb. reader having a small panic attack over a phone call they had for their job as a journalist and clark finding them in the stairwell. yay. yes. that is all. word count: 839 a/n: he's just so scrumptious, bro. come onnnnn.

It was punishment enough that Clark Kent was your co-worker. The dorky journalist who had somehow managed to weasel his way into your heart without even trying. Literally. He barely had to look your way for you to get flustered and unable to think straight. But of course, the universe just had to grant you with the ability to have panic attacks on a whim, hm?

A bad lead, a terribly construed phone call, and now you were pacing back and forth at the top of the stairwell, hair mused and bottom lip tightly held between your teeth. Blood would soon blossom if you weren't careful, but at the moment, you cared little for it.

Being a journalist was difficult. You had to be tough, had to be able to do what whatever it was to get the story. That's what you had tried, that's what you always tried, and each time you did, it chipped away at your resolve little by little.

Maybe you'd take up your friend's offer and work at the coffee shop she was at. It would be a hell of a lot better than whatever the hell was going on now.

Anything would be better than your racing mind, your inability to calm it, your inability to hear the stairwell door opening and the shuffling of one Clark Kent. His voice drew you from your thoughts almost instantly.

"You alright there?"

Your eyes widened and you looked over your shoulder, quickly turning to face him. Your hands dropped by your sides, breath hitching in your throat.

"Mhm," you supplied, though the sound alone was enough to let Clark know everything he needed to. He made no move to step closer, brows cinched together in that oh-so-familiar way.

"You sure about that?"

Your lips parted to agree, or object, or God, you didn't know because what left your lips definitely wasn't what you wanted to say.

"I'm quitting. I have to quit. I can't keep doing this, I'm—"

Clark stepped forward, a hand raised in a placating manner. "Hey," he began, your name leaving his lips soon after. "Come on. Take a deep breath. What happened?"

Your hands rubbed your face in frustration and you silently cursed yourself, hoping that the product you had on your face hadn't moved in the slightest. You groaned softly and crossed your arms over your chest, taking a breath.

"Bad call," you said, shaking your head. "Bad lead. I thought... well, I..."

"Did they threaten you?"

His voice catches your attention once more. You glanced up at him, frowning deeply.

"No, I... I don't even know why I'm freaking out like this," you admitted. "I just... I called, asked a few questions, and then they went on this long tirade that only ended because I hung up the phone." You huffed and looked away from Clark once more.

"Surely that's not the only thing that's got you so upset," he said. He glanced over at your bag which laid on the concrete floor. In one swift movement, he picked up the bag and looked at you. He threw the strap over his shoulder.

God, the man could have taken everything in your bag, stolen every last dime, and you think you would have let him without complaint.

"No, I... I guess it's just..." What was it? The way that your life was going at the moment, your landlord, your shitty social life. It was as if everything was collapsing all around you and a phone call at work sent you over the edge.

"Come on," Clark said, motioning to the stairs. "There's a café not too far from here that I've been meaning to try. You think you can manage?"

You snorted softly. "Is caffeine the best thing for me right now?"

"They have other things," he said, haphazardly mentioning your favorite beverage in the process. "They have pretty much anything you could think of. May even be a good place to write an article for if you needed to."

You eyed him warily for a moment. "You want to go with me?"

"Wouldn't have asked you if I didn't," he said, a soft smile on his lips.

For all the faults of your job, it sure as hell had some pretty people floating through the reports and keyboards.

"That... sounds nice," you said.

As he began to descend down the stairs, you followed.

"You're not going to tell anyone about my meltdown, are you?" you asked.

He glanced up at you, a slightly admonished look on his handsome face. "Do I look like the kind of guy who would do that?" His smile alone was enough to placate your momentary fears, reminding you why you had taken a liking to the man in the first place.

He was kind to you even when it didn't matter. He had calmed you down with just his presence, even if you had yet to realize it.

Oh, yeah, fourth freakout of the month aside, you were down bad for the man.

[nutmegtales]

Fucking Lab Rat - Chapter 1 - part 8 - panic at the kitchen

Danny had another bout of frustration as he stood in the kitchen staring at two different flavours of chocolate. There was something about the vegan one that was making the back of his mind buzz, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"why do I know you" he asked absently, his tone accusing and a little betrayed "you're fucking disgusting, so why do I want you here?".

"he's talking about you" Dick said has he jabbed his toe into Jason's side. "Fuck off Dick Head" Jason replied shoving his brother off the couch "he clearly means Tim". That earnt him a squawked "hey!" As Dick thudded to the floor, and a cushion to the back of the head from Tim who was in the other room working on some project again.

Danny rolled his eyes "you're both idiots, I mean the chocolate. It's Fucking disgusting, so why do I want it? Why does it feel so familiar?". Tim put down his screwdriver and looked up with curiosity "that's a good question actually".

Jason groaned and let his head thump on the back of the couch, and Dick said from the floor "oh Here we go".

"Maybe not yet Tim" Jason tried, knowing the kid would get real intense real fast. They’d all put in a lot of effort to not push Danny, and none of them wanted that to all go up in flames.

"No" Danny said absently still staring daggers at the chocolate "it's fine".

Dick and Jason shared a look and Dick tried one more time "you don't know what you're in for dude".

But it was already too late, Tim had his go ahead, and he plunged on. "what kind of familiar is it? Do you remember eating it or just being near it?".

Danny squinted at the offending chocolate again, considering his answer "maybe near it" he shrugged.

Tim stepped into the kitchen with Danny, his laptop open on the counter and his fingers tapping away, firing off searches. "Okay well then it's probably familiar because someone you know likes it. So then the question becomes who in your life likes expensive and delicious high quality vegan chocolate?"

Danny just hummed in response

"availability doesn't narrow it down too much, it's available across most of the country and can be ordered online for everywhere else. But" Tim turned his screen slightly so Danny could see "demographically the market statistics suggest it's most likely someone who's younger and someone who's a girl"

Tim ignored Jason's muttered "oh boy" and continued as if he hadn't heard it

"So do you remember any girls in your life? A sister maybe? Or a cousin? A friend?"

Danny shrugged again "I'm not sure. I kinda get the feeling of someone when I try to think of each of those. But no details"

Huh, that's interesting "Brother?" Tim suggested, opening up another document to add data points too.

Danny shook his head "no, I don't get a feeling there".

Huh, very interesting. "What's the familiar feeling like? Can you describe it?"

"uh" Danny could feel his heart rate start to pick up, but wasn't sure why. Maybe responding to how excited Tim was. Was he excited? He didn't feel very excited. He kinda felt a bit sick.

Tim kept on, oblivious to Danny's hesitation "do you think there'd be a distinct feeling for each person if there was more than one, like if you had more than one sister, do you feel two different familiarities?"

"Tim"

"Or is it the same feeling for each familial tie?"

"Tim wait"

"I bet if we plotted it all out we could track down what your immediate circle looks like and really hone in on your identity."

"Tim!"

"Just a sec Jason. Give me a minute and I'll hash out an outline for a test we could run through to plot out your memories as data points."

Tim snapped out of his excitement as Jason shoved him hard. He was about to retaliate in kind when Jason pointed over to where Dick and Danny were "Shut the fuck up replacement. You're freaking him out"

Dick walked Danny through controlled breathing exercises, rubbing his arms and his back in soothing motions as the kid sucked in short sharp breaths and stuttered out "not a lab rat. M not a lab rat. M-m-mum I'm, I'm not, I'm not a lab rat"

"hey shhhhh no, you're not a lab rat Danny" Dick continued to soothe the trembling mess of a kid in front of him, stubbornly stamping down the protective anger that rose up from those words, and doing his best to ignore his brothers as Jason berated Tim. "You're not a lab rat Danny, you're safe, Tim didn't mean to upset you. You're safe with us. No one's gonna make you a lab rat"

"no experiments. N-n-no tests. M not a lab rat. P-please. Please. Please."

"you got it bud. No experiments. No tests. Jus, just jokes and coffee okay? You're safe here bud I promise. Nothing but jokes and coffee here" Dick looked to his brothers for reassurance. Fuck, being on the other side of a panic attack sucked almost as much as having one.

Tim was already around the counter, fishing out Danny's favourite mug and getting a fresh coffee made.

Jason came to sit on the other side of Danny, leaning his back against the cupboards and speaking in soft firm tone. "Yeah Danny, you're safe here. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want. We're here for you man".

With Dick on one side, Jason on the other, and a fresh mug of coffee waiting for him on the counter Danny started to relax. And after a Little while felt the unfortunately familiar feeling of a post panic crash. A little embarrassed he managed "sorry. That was dumb" he waved off the others protests and assurances, too tired to really listen. "I think I remember now why I came to Gotham. I think" he swallowed hard not really sure if he should be saying this but, well, he did trust them "I think I'm running from something. Someone. I think maybe someone wants to make me a um. A test subject".

Danny missed the looks the other two boys gave each other, determined and deadly. He leaned into the warm body beside him, hand clutched in someone else's, and felt the exhaustion finally pull him under.

Tim left that night, convinced his presence would only upset Danny again. He pushed too far too soon. Been too intense, he always was. He took some time to show his face around Wayne Enterprises, reported in to Bruce on the mission he'd been on as cover earlier that month, and generally kept appearances. Playing the part of WE CEO and Red Robin perfectly.

He made a promise to himself that he would not push Danny again, he would not ask probing questions or try to solve any mysteries about Danny until he was ready. He would give Danny some space and then when he returns to the holiday house he'd give Danny as much time as Danny needs. He will not ruin this. It will be okay.

When Tim does return, before dragging him off to see what wild contraption he'd been working on Danny crushes him in a hug and whines at him in an accusing tone "Alooone, with no one to make me good coffee, and no one to appreciate my genius!".

Tim couldn't help but laugh "I missed you too Danny"

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[awkwardhaze]

Silent sweetheart

Selectively mute M!Reader x Ticci Toby

When your meant to be a new proxy for slenderman, Toby finds himself fascinated with your selective mutism. And he's determined to speak as much as he needs for the both of you.

> No Y/N use, not proofread but proofskimmed, I dont abide by grammar or spelling and stuff,

its cringe but I tried

> My first fic, nod and wave to me like its good

[Inspired by creepydates! Art by @hahadit along with the game in which i picture Toby by for this cuz im obsessed atm]

[I hope you dont mind the tag sorry! I just want to give credits, hope this is fine!]

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You didn't know what to think when you were.. well.. kidnapped to be brought to Slenderman as a proxy. To keep that short..

You met some proxies along the way, though they were confused and surprised when you didn't speak, and began to sign instead. The same look your used to receiving rather often, the way they'd glance to something and deadpan stare at you. Though you knew to ignore this by now.

Despite the weird looks you received from the other guys, you just had to take a mental note of how Toby didn't seem to care at all. Hell, he spoke enough for you both... Toby would ask you yes or no in the beginning before you promptly gestured a signal for him to just fetch you a paper by this point.

"So you dont talk because you-you dont want to?" Toby asked, you nodded.

He had been the kindest about it, the way he deeply wanted to be your friend made it easier to get along with him atleast, a man who stutters and twitches, befriending the man whos quiet as a mouse. Wasn't a bad mix, atleast compared to how other proxies nearly killed you when you first arrived.

He would keep a notepad and pencil on hand to speak to you, but otherwise, he'd go on and on about something that you just accepted to listen to.

"So Masky tends to be mean to me- but your s-so different in that way! And maybe w-we can be twins like Masky and Hoodie do it!" He rambled.

You could have walked away or plugged your ears to get him to leave you alone for the countless times he had been nearly begging for your attention, but the fact you didn't is what drew him in closer.

Toby grew fonder for you, as you did with him. He was sweet, with his little gifts and trying to understand some of your signing. You spent more time together as he started to understand more and more, little gestures began to mean alot. Matches of charades or giggling to eachother when you'd sign an insult about someone knowing only you both understood.

That giggle. Oh how Toby loved it. He didn't expect to feel the way he did, the feeling that made him stammer more than usual when you'd get close. It was endearing to you, and you felt the same way. The boy who wouldn't shut up and the boy who never spoke a word.

Until.

"I kinda like you sometimes" you'd teased, a gentle voice since you hadn't spoken in such a long time, but a grin formed on your face when you saw his absolutely shocked expression.

"I-i uhm- I like you-you too..." Toby replied, stammering more out of pure shock, the blush creeping up as the realization kicked in more and more. He screamed to the forest and spun you around. He knew this meant alot, you liked being quiet, sure, but you were too happy with him, the smallest, most loving gesture you could offer to such a talkative and curious man.

You barely spoke after it still, he obviously didn't expect you to. But he always kept that same loving gaze, like every sign and note would leave your lips all the same.

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I tried, thank you for reading! Any interaction in any way is appreciated!

[seeminglydark]

How would teenage Caro have styled themself if they had normal parents? Would they wear their glasses or keep the contacts? Wear their hair the way it is naturally? Would they have experimented with different styles since they didn't quite know who they were yet?

This one is interesting. Normal Parents Caro! (which...could mean so many things, in this context I choose to mean parents who love them/well meaning but still mistake making, not perfect but trying.) Fundamentally they wouldn't change that much, still a cheerleader, it's something they enjoy. Shorter more manageable hair, playing with styles more. Sure, glasses sometimes on lazy days since now they are allowed to relax a bit. Maybe a bit of 'punk' leaning sometimes trying to catch the eye of that cute guy next door since... they wouldnt actually be that close with him in this universe, because if they had a loving family they wouldnt be seeking comfort in his arms constantly... OH NO (don't worry, they'd just find eachother later.) They still live in a small town with not much information about being trans so I still don't think they'd come out til later cuz they still wouldn't have words for how they feel. But with more bodily autonomy and having their parents actually care about their safety and aren't using them for profit while not caring what happens to them along the way, modeling would now be for fun, and i think Caro would be less uncomfy in shorts or strap tops even if they still dont like their chest, there would be a lot less terror of being too exposed. No ones upset if they bring up wanting a breast reduction one day. More pants. More shorts. Less frilly things and ribbons. Purple is still a fave color.

All hypothetical though cuz without their tragic backstory we have no Caro as we know them, but still fun!

[ivysprophecy]

white wine

a/n: um... i was drunk and thought of this and needed to get it out of my system thats all. please enjoy <3

he was so perfect.

i'd somehow managed to convince clark to come out for drinks after work today and he was still in that slutty little white button down that made me act like a panther in heat. it sure didn't help that hed undone the first two buttons and rolled the sleeves up, and it was a bit looser from being worn throughout the day.

his hair was mussed up from running his hands through it exasperated every time i ordered another drink, but he wasn't mad at all. no. how could he ever be mad at me?

my cheeks flushed from my drunken state, hair fluffy from whipping my head in every direction while being extra enthusiastic in conversation.

i hadn't meant to get this drunk. that was the truth.

but you know how it can be after a long day at work. when one glass of wine turns into half the bottle. getting to relax, loosen up a little and let go. you get a little giggly, maybe a bit more affectionate.

it just so happened that white wine was my kryptonite.

"honey don't you think its time we head home? you made me promise to have you home by eleven," clark, ever the lover man, was desperate to do as i asked. admittedly it was for selfish reasons but that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"oh but we're having so much fun! c'mon just one more glass and then we can go- i promise!"

yea that promise wasn't worth anything. and clark knew that.

"its getting late honey. you made me promise to have you home by eleven and tomorrow when you're more level headed you'll be upset that you stayed out so late. you wanted to get a head start on that piece about the nurse's strike at the hospital?"

a pout immediately formed on my lips. "but i don't wanna go home, that means the fun stops."

clark leans forward to whisper in my ear even though the bar isn't that loud, and i could smell his cologne that makes me want to grab him by the collar and pull him down to me, "the fun doesn't have to stop honey. just wanna get you home safe."

that put a pump in my brakes.

"clark kent are you suggesting what i think you are? in public?" did i have to egg him on? no. did i enjoy it? every second.

"i'm trying to get you home and in bed, take that however you will," his smile was small. from any outside perspective he'd look utterly and completely innocent.

that's the thing about clark, being dominant never meant about being controlling or rough or demanding for him. it was simply a matter of he knew what i needed and he was more than happy to provide. hes a gentlemen first and foremost. gentle. soft. a soft dom.

"you're very good with persuasion," screw being here now. i wanted to go home. but i had to make it a little bit more fun. "let me go close my tab," i stood up from my seat when his hand found its home at the curve of my waist.

"taken care of already. lets get you home yea?" he quirked his eyebrow up at me with a little smirk, "i'll make it worth your while honey. i promise?"

"i never questioned that clark, let me just go say goodbye to lois and-" i was rudely interrupted when he bent in front of me so my waist met his shoulder as he lifted me off the ground and waved to our friends politely before proceeding to carry my out of the bar. "clark!"

to say im shocked is an understatement. clark was a subtle man. PDA was never his forte, not because he didn't like it, but because it just felt disrespectful for him to use my touches as a sign to others. it was more intimate than that for him.

so him carrying me out of a bar? unheard of. until tonight it seems.

"problem sweetheart?" he called over his shoulder. i could hear that smile in his voice and all i could do was laugh. because im in disbelief AND drunk.

"nope. no complaints," i giggled softly pinching his behind making him jump a little.

"cut that out-" he begged with a sigh that held no malice.

i just giggled more until he reached my car setting me down in front of the passenger door. my cheeks heated as i looked up to see that special mushy look in his eyes thats reserved for just me.

"are you gonna behave yourself on the way home so i can drive?"

that brought a pout to my face, "not even a little rubbing?" god i must be so far gone. i hated being a messy drunk i always felt so embarrassed the next day.

but he just chuckled opening the passenger door for me, "not tonight honey. tomorrow though? ill be all yours.

[d-dixonimagines]

Daryl Tends To A Drunk Reader

I DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT BUT I'M NOT GOING TO THINK ABOUT IT ANYMORE! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!

Weekly dinners with Eric and Aaron accidentally became a bit of a tradition.  It started with you and Daryl being invited over as a welcoming when you were new to Alexandria, then it would be for Aaron and Daryl to "talk business" to sort out plans for the bigger supply runs while you and Eric chatted away; and gradually it became a weekly thing for the four of you to just unwind and catch up and talk about everything but work and walkers and whatever threat was the current focus.  It was a way for you all to get a bit of normalcy and it was beautiful. 

At some point, you and Eric made it part of the tradition to have a glass or three of wine that added to the making of good memories. 

While Daryl and Aaron were still emersed in a conversation at the dinner table, you and Eric had moved to the couch, four glasses in and giggling away about who knows what. "Do you ever just watch people?" "In what way?" Eric questioned mildly concerned before laughing. "If we're talking like standing in bushes and or behind light poles all secretively, then no…" "No, I don't mean like that - oh shit, my wine is trying to escape," you quickly straightened up your glass before it completely tipped, a couple drops of your drink landing on your lap. Eric just laughed harder, questioning if he should grab a towel or something in case an accidental mess was made. 

"Who do you think I am? A weirdo?" You raised the question out of nowhere, continuing straight back into what you were talking about. "I mean like sitting on a bench or a step or something and just watching people go about their day. Watching how they're interacting with people or just watching how they do things. I don't know, sometimes it's fascinating." You shrugged slightly before finishing off your wine. "Like one time I was watching this guy talking to this girl and you could tell that he really liked her because he was obviously nervous and doing a lot of the talking, and I really don't know what compelled him to do it, but they were walking by this tree and he picked off one of the leaves and sniffed it and then extended it out like he was offering her a turn to sniff it, she didn't, but…" you both laughed as you took a pause, "you miss things like that when you're not paying attention, you know?" 

"Whose smellin' what?" You heard Daryl's voice from behind you, causing you and Eric to laugh more. "Some guy who maybe was trying to impress someone?" Eric replied with a questioning tone, unsure how to process the information he just heard.  "I've definitely have done a little people watching here and there, but I can't say I've ever witnessed anything strange like that." "Eh, see? You should do it more often, maybe you'll see something good." 

Daryl walked around the furniture you were sitting on and stood in front of you, reaching for the empty wine glass to set it on the table. "Should I start smelling leaves and reporting if they have a good scent or not?" You asked Daryl, who was now extending his hand forward to take yours to help you up. "Nah, that's alright. We can smell 'em just fine without getting up close and personal with them," he replied with an amused expression on his face. "We should get goin', though." You gave a soft pout as you grabbed his hand, preparing to stand up.  "This is always my least favorite part of the evening. The time goes by too fast."  

Eric stood up after you and set his empty glass beside yours. "It's not like we won't see each other tomorrow." You both smiled at each other and gave your goodbye hugs before walking out into the cool night air. The walk back to your house wasn't that far, but with all of the distractions and Daryl darting in nearly every direction to try and keep you from stumbling into a bush or off the curb, it took you both a bit of extra time before finally making it home.  

"I'm so tired but wide awake at the same time and I don't understand how that's even a thing." You opened the door and Daryl shut it behind him. "I don't think you'll have any issues fallin' asleep once your head touches your pillow." His hands gripped your sides as he maneuvered you up the stairs and leading you to your room.  The sight of your bed caused you to let out a content sight and you plopped right down. "Why is everything so much more comfortable after you've had a lot to drink? It feels like a cloud." With your eyes closed and your arms sprawled out across the bed and your feet still touching the floor, you thought you'd have no problem just falling asleep like that, and if it wasn't for Daryl being there, it's how you probably would have found yourself the next morning. 

"I dunno, babe. Would clouds really be all that comfortable, though? You'd fall right through," you focused on his voice as you felt him remove your shoes, hearing them land somewhere close by. You pulled yourself up so that you could look at him now, your eyelids heavy with sleep and intoxication. "They'd feel like you're sleeping on cotton candy," you smiled softly, letting your fingers play with the ends of his hair. He stayed kneeled down in front of you, his arms draping lightly around your lower back. "You think so?" He asked softly, his lips curled up at the ends.  "I know so." You leaned in and lightly kissed the end of his nose.  "I have to tell you a secret.." you whispered, your fingers now running deeper through his hair. "What's that?" He whispered back in response. Your gaze lingered on his for a long moment as you both sat there in silence, you could feel your heartbeat racing and you weren't sure if that was because of the alcohol or because looking at Daryl always made you feel a good type of way. "I can't feel my lips.." you whispered. "Or my cheeks.. or my whole face."  

It took only a few seconds for the words to process and all he could do was let out a chuckle. "That just means it's time for bed," he leaned forward and kissed your lips before standing up and helping you get changed, and after he quickly got himself ready for bed, he threw the covers down and climbed in, pulling you close to him. "Your whiskers are tickling me!" You laughed and scrunched your shoulder up as Daryl buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "Are they?" He asked in a jokingly nonchalant way. "I've very sorry," he just nestled in more, causing you to laugh, chills rolling down your back as his beard scratched softly against your skin. 

You readjusted yourself so that you were now facing him, your face nestling into the crook of his neck now.  "Mmm, much better. You're so warm and comfy." You smiled contently, feeling the sleep taking over more and more. "We should collect some leaves tomorrow… see how they smell.." you mumbled. Daryl let out an amused chuckle. "Shut'up, weirdo, go to sleep." You laughed as he kissed the top of your head, and within seconds you were out in a deep slumber.