#nobody ever really needed f-keys

[astropithecus]

Clango's grandpa (the funny looking TV) is a 128K Macintosh from 1984. The comic is from 2001, 17 years later. As of writing, it's been 22 years since 2001.

That means this comic is now older than Clango's grandpa was.

From Diesel Sweeties by @rstevens

[rafesangelita]

♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

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[sweetsilver-if]

To Taste Sweet Silver

Play here [Updated 8/10/24]

Word count (w/code): 16.9k

[F.A.Q] [Spotify][Pinterest]

"The silver of the fruit tastes sweeter than the iron of the blood." There is a City in the center of the remaining world, said to house and protect the last gift from the Old Gods before they vanished. Your mother had told you stories of it as a child, before she died. No one is allowed to enter the City of Forgotten Silver without extensive documentation and proof they are worthy. Not everyone is allowed to grace divinity. There is no reason for you, a nobody, to be here but you've managed to worm your way in. You know the consequences if you get caught, and you know to keep your head down as often as you can. The risk to be here is great, for the City is desperate to protect what remains of the past. Everyone who has dared to take the Old God's last gift, a fruit with silver skin, has had their execution made a spectacle. For this fruit is the key to reviving the world to what it used to be. Or so it is believed. It's why those in power will do anything to protect it. You know this, but you have a plan to attempt its theft anyway. For without it, how else will you finally bring this world to its end?

To Taste Sweet Silver is an 18+ Gaslamp Fantasy IF about putting a crumbling world to rest.

✽ Play as a fully customizable MC: gender, sexuality, personality, skills, etc.

✽ Decide how you're going to survive in the City; will you fake an identity and do earnest work, rely on thievery, or freeload off anyone willing to take pity on you

✽ Master magic, hone your physical skills, or expand your worldly knowledge

✽ Discover why the Old Gods abandoned the world in the first place, and learn about the New Gods that have taken their place

✽ Decide your reasons for wanting to end the world. Will you really go through with it?

Caspian Sinclair

The City Mage [M]:

A man who's more important then he lets on. The only reason you know he's a Mage is because you sense it on him. Despite his kind but stoic nature, you hesitate to approach him because if he finds out who you are, he will kill you. If only he wasn't also the holder of key information you need. He never seems opposed to answering your questions or pointing you in the right direction, making him your main source of information about the City of Lost Silver. However, the badge he wears reminds you to still your tongue, and watch your questions.

Whisper

The Jester [NB]:

Xer part of a night show, the sort outlawed in the City due to being propaganda about the Old Gods' departure. When xer not part of the show, xe have a traveling food cart xe only run at night. Although it's best not to draw attention to yourself and get involved with someone like xem, you can't help but wonder what's hiding under the mask. Especially with xer strange charm, odd sense of humor, and ability to show up at the worst of times for you.

Vivienne Silver

The Empress [F/trans]:

The youngest Empress ever crowned, and only due to the tragic assassination of her family. She's an elusive figure, never seen in public, but worshiped all the same. The people whisper her suffering is the reason why the City has seen such prosper in recent years, mythologizing her as a martyr. As an outsider, you have no strong opinion of her, until strange circumstances bring you together. She's exhausted and weary and as willing to bite as she is to be gentle.

Mourning

The New God [M/F/NB]:

Your benefactor and the sole reason you managed to get into the City. They found you in the outskirts one day and handed you a pass, telling you they can help you get what you want. You haven't seen them since. They're elusive and strange, and while they claim they're a God, you're not sure they're something quite so holy.

CW: Gore, violence, torture, cannibalism, death, religious trauma, explicit sexual themes, mtc

Note: This is a side project and won't be updated frequently. My main project is Burning Academia!

[saturneras]

Private Eyes V

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Your brother is taking your parents down to Florida to see your grandparents for the weekend and you've got the house all to yourself. Casey hasn't explicitly said that you could use the love of his life aka the vintage car he has been working on for the past months, but a little spin in a convertible on this sunny Saturday afternoon wouldn't hurt, right? And maybe it will take your mind off the way a certain chief of police has been occupying your thoughts recently. Sometimes a girl just needs a crisp Diet Coke, the "My Life is a Movie"-Playlist on Spotify queued up and nothing ahead but some wide open spaces.

Note: Siri play "Cowboy Take Me Away" by The Chicks.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4

There is something so exhilarating about doing something you definitely should not be doing. It's this feeling as if pop rocks are going off inside your chest. It is exactly what you feel when the garage door slowly opens to reveal Casey's shiny metallic blue vintage Mercedes convertible. She's a beauty. He's been working on it for months and has dropped the idea to take her for a spin when he gets the chance last week. If he didn't want anyone to drive it, he maybe shouldn't have parked it in your parents' garage. And since you know where he keeps the key you are just doing him a favour. It is a public service basically. You need a long drive through nowhere and his baby needs a chance to blow off some steam. A win win situation.

You slip into the driver's seat and turn the key. The car starts immediately. God bless. And also bless Casey for being as much of a music freak as you are and putting in a bluetooth connector so you can connect your phone to the radio. You press play on your playlist and pull out of the garage. In ten minutes you're on a country road heading out of town. You drive until you can't see houses anymore, just fields and the occasional farm on the distant horizon. The Texas sun is beating down on the concrete, heat simmering in the air. The windows are down and the breeze is lifting up your hair, cooling the back of your neck. You take a sip of your Diet Coke when the opening notes of "Guilty As Sin" start playing and you lean back, loudly singing along.

There is a flash of something in your head. More like someone. The sensation of feeling skin on your skin, having his body pressed against yours. You shake your head. No, no, no. This is exactly the reason why you took this damn drive - to take your mind off of ...things. The image of his figure hovering above you, his curls falling into his forehead, his eyebrows drawn, has been haunting you for days. The way his lips parted, when you slowly opened your legs is imprinted on your fucking brain. How on earth are you ever going to get rid of that image? It definitely is not good that you're fantasising about your boss and even worse that it's Joel freaking Miller. Obviously that can never happen for so many reasons but mostly because your brother is actually gonna kill him first and then you, without missing a beat. Maybe also Tommy, if he is really on a roll.

Right as Taylor Swift is singing about writing things on inner thighs, something goes wrong. For whatever reason, the gas pedal does not seem to be responding. You put your foot on it a couple of times but nothing is happening, the car is not accelerating. Stunned, you try to put your foot down, but nothing seems to happen. You're really starting to freak out, when you realise that the break also seems to be fucked. At least there is nobody anywhere on this goddamn road you could have hit, so you just slowly let the car come to a stop in the middle of nowhere. You exhale heavily. The tank is full, so at least you weren't a complete idiot. Maybe Casey did not finish fixing it up like he said he did?

"Fucking hell," you groan and slap the steering wheel. Just your luck.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You obviously can't call your brother or your parents because not only will you get the lecture of a lifetime, but they'll also freak out that you're stranded in the middle of a country road with nothing to keep you company but an almost warm can of coke and some pretzels you brought in case of an emergency. Apparently, what you thought might be an emergency is vastly different to what is actually possible. You could call triple-A but on a Saturday at this time of day they'll probably be here by nightfall. How the fuck are you going to get out of here? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

You open the car door and step out, feeling the heat of the day immediately engulf you. You definitely should have brought water. Christ. What were you thinking being all free and a little reckless, huh? Walking a couple of steps down the street you think maybe you could just wait for someone to pass by and help a girl out. That's when it dawns on you that Casey is not the only one you know who knows his way around a vintage car. You hurry back to the car and grab your phone, tapping Tommy's number and calling him.

He doesn't answer. Why should he? He is probably busy on a Saturday afternoon. You try again though nothing but the soothing sound of the dial tone is whispering in your ear. When you press his contact one more time, he finally picks up.

"Hello?"

"Oh my God, Tommy, hi," you say, relieved. "I am so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if by any chance you're free right now? I kinda did something stupid and I need your help."

"Huh?" He says, sounding like he's outside or somewhere loud.

"I borrowed Casey's Mercedes and took a drive up west and now the car is not working and I'm sort of stranded on this road and I can-"

"Who is this?" he says and you frown, saying your name.

"Casey's sister?" You say, hesitantly.

There is just silence at the end of the other line for a moment and then you hear a commotion, sounding like someone getting up.

"Where are you?" You're trying to put the phone closer to your ear, to hear him better.

"I kinda have no idea to be honest, but I can send you my location maybe? I think I passed that one dairy farm with the red sign on my way," you say quickly. "I'm so sorry Tommy, I really appreciate your help."

A sigh resounds from the other end. "This ain't Tommy."

Your eyes widen. "What?"

You take a look at the screen and see Tommy Miller's name and number on the display. Confused, you put the phone back to your ear.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"This is Joel Miller," he says and after a second or two he adds, "The Chief."

Fuck.

"I know who you are, Miller," you say, hearing him moving on the other end. "What are you doing on Tommy's phone?"

„He left it on the table,“ he replies.

You run a hand through your hair and frown. „And you just answer?"

"You called three times," he says.

"Have you ever heard of a right to privacy?"

There is a groan on the other end. „You want me to come get you or keep lecturing me about shit?“

You hear a car door slam.

„Okay,“ you say. "Why did you ask who I was?"

"Apparently Tommy has named you Little C in his phone," Joel says. "How am I supposed to know that's you."

"Fine," you say, „I can send you my lo-

„I‘ll find you,“ he says and the call ends with a click.

„Alright, Chief,“ you mumble and put the phone back in your pocket.

About a long boring hour spent kicking rocks on the side of the road later, you can see a car emerging on the horizon, speeding toward you. The heat makes it flicker in the distance and you squint your eyes to sharpen the picture. The familiar outlines of a his truck take final form and before you know it he slides the car on the gravel and brings it to a sudden stop in front of you.

Joel jumps out of the car and stalks toward you. He’s wearing worn out jeans, boots and a familiar flannel over a crips white tshirt.

"What were you thinking?" He shouts, stepping up in front of you.

"Hello to you too," you reply.

"Why did you take the car?"

"I was just trying to go for a drive," you say.

"Maybe you should've taken a car that actually works and not this thing," he snaps harshly.

He comes to a halt in front of you, breathing heavily. His hair is toussled as if he had just spent the last hour running his hands through it vigorously. His dark eyes shift slowly from yours down to your torso and further toward your feet. Once he has clocked the size of your shorts and the quite long stretch of bare legs, his eyes widen for a second.

"Casey said that he was going to take it out soon," you explain.

Joel snaps his eyes back to yours. "Your brother has been saying that since last summer."

"Maybe he should have told me that," you say.

"Maybe you should have asked him before taking his car," Joel says sternly. "Do you even know where you are?"

You shrug. "I can just check on my phone."

"And what happens if your phone shuts off?"

"I'll just walk somewhere," you say, crossing your arms.

"There isn't a ranch for thirty minutes each way," he says. "Drive, not walk."

"Well," you say, "I've always been fond of walking."

"It's almost a 100 and you probably don't have any water with your, do you?" Joel says.

"I have a Diet Coke," you say.

"Christ, this is how people die!" He shouts.

"Okay, I feel like you're blowing this way out of proportion," you say.

"Did you even tell anyone that you were going out?"

You shake your head. "It's not that serious."

"Someone could have driven by and just decided to kidnap or assault you and no one would even know!"

"Jesus, Miller," you say, "I'm not some damsel in distress, who can't protect herself."

"I've seen some fucked up shit in my time, honey. You don't stand a chance against these psycho."

"Okay," you defensively raise your hands. "I need you to snap out of your paranoid chief/papa bear mentality and just take me home, okay?"

Joel frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You can be a bit overprotective sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I am the chief of police, it is my jo-"

"It's your job, I know, I know," you finish his sentence.

Joel just stares at you blank. "You actually think that I'm some file pushing desk guarding idiot, don't you?"

Now it's his time to cross his arms and you take a step backward.

"I'm just saying that maybe you've spent a lot of time in a job that alters your impression of certain probabilities."

Joel nods, "You sure as hell have made up your mind."

You sigh. "Can you just take me home now, please?"

He shakes his head. "Can't."

"What?" You say. "Why?"

Joel takes his phone out of his back pocket and checks it. "We need to wait for Earl."

"Who the fuck is Earl?" You say and lean back against the trunk of the Mercedes.

"He's the guy that's gonna tow your brother's car and bring it over to my house."

"Why would he bring it to your house?"

He checks the phone again and looks back up at you. "I don't have the tools with me to start it back up."

"Why don't you just bring it back to my parents' house?"

Joel chuckles. "Because your brother doesn't have any tools, he always borrows Tommy's."

You roll your eyes. "Of course, he does."

That's when another truck arrives on the end of the street, slowly driving toward you and Joel, standing on the side. You both wait in silence and you can't help but steal a glance at him standing there, his side profile facing you. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up and you can see tiny beads of sweat on the back of his neck, running into his shirt. It looks like he's been outside today, his face a little more tanned than usual.

The tow truck comes to a halt in front of the Mercedes and after a couple of seconds a man, maybe in his seventies, gets out of it. "It's hotter than a witch's tit out here! This better be worth at least two days of yard work, boy."

Joel actually laughs and moves toward the guy. "Make it three, sir."

You don't think you've ever seen him this at ease with anyone else but Tommy. His smile lightens up his whole features, smoothing out the ever-present frown entirely.

They shake hands and Earl grins, taking a UT cap off his head. "This must be important then."

The old man looks over at you and flashes another smile, his grey moustache stretching with his grin. "And who do we have here? The trouble maker I assume."

You walk over to them and take Earl's outstretched hand, shaking it heartily. "At least the Chief seems to think so."

"Is that so?" Earl says and turns back to Joel, who rests his hands on his hips.

"Just let her work for you and you'll agree in no time, I'm sure," Joel says annoyed.

Earl laughs, his grey beard shaking. "She sure as hell can get you riled up, Miller."

Joel scoffs. "I ain't riled up, Earl."

"Sure, sure," Earl says and motions for Joel to drop it. "Let's get to work, son. The misses is going to be in outrage if I don't make it back in time for dinner with the kids."

Earl easily positions the truck in front of the Mercedes and they hook it up to pull it onto the back of the truck. Once everything is secured, the two men walk back over toward you.

"So, you wanna take a ride in a tow truck, girlie?" Earl grins.

You laugh and Joel says: "She'll be riding back with me, Earl."

"Maybe she wants to ride in the truck, Miller," Earl counters.

"Yeah, I want to ride in the truck," you say and expectantly look up at him.

Joel shakes his head in one swift motion. "It's not about what you want. Now get in the car."

"Don't tell me what to do. We're not at work. I don't have to listen to you at all," you snap.

Joel narrows his eyes. "I ain't doing that with you right now, Sweetheart."

"I'm glad we agree on that," you say.

"Imma say this one time only," Joel says, his southern drawl coming through, showing his temper simmering. "Get in the car."

"You never let me have any fun," you say and turn to Earl. "He never does."

"And you never know when to listen," Joel rumbles.

Earl looks between the both of you back and forth a couple of times. "Yeah, very calm, Miller. Not riled at all."

Joel scoffs and starts walking toward his car. "I'll see you at the house, Earl."

Earl points at you and shouts: "I like her, Joel. You should keep her around."

Joel just slams the car door shut and starts the engine. You sigh and offer a smile to Earl. "Sorry, 'bout that. He can't stand giving up control."

"Sure can," Earl agrees and gives a little wave. "Just needs a little longer to trust. Haven't seen him loose his cool this quickly in... ever really. I sure like the way you work, girlie." Earl laughs and walks over to his car, hopping up onto the truck.

You turn around and walk up to Joel's running car. From the windshield he still looks pissed. Before you can grab the door, he leans over and pushes it open for you.

"Thanks," you say and get in the truck.

Joel makes a turn and starts driving back the way you came.

"Listen," you start, "thank you for coming to get me. I hope I didn't pull you away from anything important."

Joel glances over at you, one strand of his dark hair dancing on his forehead.

"Nothing important," he says, "and don't mention it."

You frown. "'Don't mention it' as in no worries or as in don't tell anyone?"

"Both," he grunts and turns his eyes back to the road.

You both continue to ride in deafening silence until he pulls up in front of his home. The front yard is beautiful as ever and the summer flowers are in full bloom. Earl has already unloaded the Mercedes in the front. Joel kills the engine and quickly gets out. He presses something on his phone and the garage door slowly slides open. You step out of the car and walk up to the front, leaning back against it. Watching them.

Without another word, Joel opens the door of the Mercedes and with Earl's help on the back, pushes it down the driveway into the garage. Seeing him like this, heavily breathing, does absolutely nothing to you. It's not like you're thinking about the way it sounds when you close your eyes for a split second at all. Earl however looks like he isn't even pushing, but more there for moral support. Once the car is standing in the garage, Joel exhales heavily and swears.

"Hey! Let's mind our manners here, son," Earl warns. "A lady is present."

Joel steals a glance at you. "Ain't so sure 'bout that."

"You trying to get an old man to smack your head, boy?" Earl says and Joel laughs heartily.

"Not planning on it," he replies and goes over to pat Earl on the back. "Thank you for the rescue, sir. I'll see you whenever you want to cash in."

Earl nods and glances over at you. "Sure as hell worth more than yard work, huh?"

Joel's face doesn't give any reaction and Earl turns back to him. "You should bring her to Sunday lunch some time soon."

"She works for me, Earl," Joel says sternly.

Earl shrugs. "Not on Sundays, does she?"

Joel response is a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. Earl chuckles and gives you a wave before he steps back into his tow truck. "See you, honey."

"Bye, Earl," you shout back and walk up toward the open garage.

You both watch Earl drive off in silence.

"You can wait inside, where it's cool," Joel suggests, any trace of ease or the last bit of a smile vanished from his face. You exhale heavily and you shake your head.

"I can help you," you say.

"If I need someone to not do what I tell them to, I'll come and get you."

"Wow," you say and step into the garage, hopping on the empty counter, "very original."

Joel narrows his eyes and lets them slowly run down your legs.

"I can just take you home. Your parents are probably worried," Joel says, still carefully following your feet dangling in the air.

"They're in Florida visiting my grandparents," you say. "With Casey."

"Ah," Joel says, stepping into the garage. "That's why you didn't call Casey."

"One of the reasons, yes," you say, "and he sure as well would kill me if he ever found out I took the car."

Joal sighs. "I fucking hate secrets."

"You are 'bout that?" You ask, watching him innocently. "Seems like you're pretty good at keeping them yourself."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Or did you tell Tommy about our run in in the bathroom at the BBQ?"

"That's different," he says.

"How so?"

"That wasn't on purpose."

"Oh, right," you say, "so you lifting me onto the counter or pushing me down on the shooting table weren't on purpose? You sure do like to get yourself into accidents huh, Chief?"

Joel just turns away from you with a grunt and walks to the front of the Mercedes.

Without any warnings, he shrugs off his flannel and throws it to the side on a nearby work bench. The moment he takes off the flannel you realise that maybe you should have gone inside and waited there. That that might have been a better idea, not just for your faith but for your sanity.

Joel's shirt is pressed to his entire torso, clinging to it like sticky honey. He must have been so hot under that flannel that even the thought of pressing your hand on that boiling chest makes you shift in your seat. You can't help but watch the way it stretches over his broad back, tightening over his chest. His bicep flexes as he opens the hood of the car with a grunt and it's so obscene you actually have to look away. With both hands he pulls his hair back and presses the dark curls neatly to the back of his head. The evening sun is drenching the garage in a golden shade. You watch him work on the car, get different tools and swearing from time to time. Every time he runs his sweaty hand through his hair, you have to hold your breath involuntarily. The way the sun lights up his body gives his presence a different aura, almost as if a halo-like shine as formed around him.

After a while you couldn't possible put into any form of time measurement, he suddenly comes up from underneath the hood of the car and slams it shut. "Should be fine now, I’ll try starting it back up tomorrow and bring it over as soon as I can."

You nod and Joel sighs.

"You want something to drink?" He asks.

"Sure," you say, slowly sliding down the countertop, at exactly the moment he is trying to make his way past you. Joel hesitates for a second but then quickly moves out of the way and steps toward the entrance to the house, opening the door.

You follow him into kitchen. He goes right to the fridge and you lean against the counter opposite him.

"What do you want?"

"Water is fine," you say.

Joel opens the fridge door. "I got water, beer and whatever weird energy drink Tommy brought over last night."

"I'll have a beer then," you say and he grabs two bottles, opening them quickly and handing one to you.

You grab the bottle from his hand and almost hiss when his hand touches yours. It's warm from the sun and slightly wet from the condensation on the ice cold bottle.

Joel flinches. "Sorry, I'm a bit sweaty." He rubs his hand on the back of his jeans, furrowing his brows.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I don't mind. It's just a bit cold." You say desperately trying to refrain from reaching out again. You would die if he realized just how much you would like to know what it would feel like to have that hand wrapped around you.

He closes the fridge and leans back against it, watching you intently. You hold his gaze, both taking swigs from your beers.

"Listen," he starts and then turns, opening a drawer next to him. He sets down his bottle, takes out a block of post-it notes and a pen, quickly writing something down. Then he hands it over to you.

A phone number shows on it in bold writing.

"This is for next time you get yourself into trouble," he says. "So you don't have to terrorise Tommy."

You take the note from him and hold it between your fingers. Then you take out your phone, dial the number and press the call button until you hear Joel‘s phone vibrating in his pocket.

„I feel like the only times I get myself into trouble you're usually already there."

"I ain't talking 'bout that kind of trouble, kid," Joel says huskily. You don't realise it, but as if on it's own accord, your body moves away from the counter and veers ever so slightly toward him.

"Don't call me kid," you say.

"What would you rather I call you, huh?" Joel asks, taking his beer bottle back from the counter.

"Don't know," you tilt your head. "Should it also depend on whether I'm in between your legs or does that only apply to me addressing you?"

"Why do you have to bring that up?" He asks, the grip on his bottle tightening.

"Maybe I'm just trying to get you all riled up as Earl puts it."

"I ain't between them now am I, Darlin'?" Joel drawls.

"Is that a factual statement or a suggestion?" You raise your eyebrows in question.

"You are trying to make things very hard for me, aren't you?" Joel sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"How hard is kinda your thing I guess, don't you agree?"

He scoffs, but can't hide the way the corner of his mouth slightly twitches.

"You ever think about it"? You ask.

When he shakes his head and pushes himself off the counter, the beer bottle in his hand grazes your arm. You raise your head up to him, letting his warm breath hit your cheek.

"No," he says and keeps his eyes locked on your lips.

You grin. "You're a bad liar."

"And you're out of your depths, Sweetheart.“

"Maybe I like being there," you say, "maybe it's nice to not be able to feel the ground."

Another inch disappears between you two, when he places his bottle on the counter behind you.

"Maybe I'm just waiting on you to rescue me," you say, waiting for him to say something.

But Joel just stares at you with narrowed eyes as if he is trying to figure something out. Something that he can't grab a hold of. Something that has been bothering him for weeks. And maybe it is time to finally dare open up the box, to release the bird from its cage and let it flap its strong wings with nothing but the vast open sky above.

"Are you going to come out and rescue me, Mr. Miller?" You whisper.

You're close enough to trace his smell oozing from him and could count the hairs of his beard one by one, if you had the time. Nothing happens, it is just the sound of your breathing in sync, resounding in the silent kitchen.

His hand rises to your hips and he draws his eyebrows further together as if he was pushing against an imaginary barrier in his mind. You cannot help but inhale sharply as he carefully lets his right index finger curl around the belt loop on your shorts. You feel the softest tug that pulls you toward him.

"Me dropping everything to come and get you once today isn't enough for you, Darlin'?" Joel says softly, his eyes showing that familiar twinkle.

You can't help but let loose a little grin for him and lift your chin up toward his. "Maybe I just like to see you workin'."

Now it's Joel's time to smile almost unnoticably, before his face morphs back into that exterior of stone. The only thing giving him away is the way the brown in his eyes has turned molten, making you think of strawberries dipped in warm chocolate.

"Is that so, honey?" He says.

"What about you?" You ask.

"What about me?" Joel says.

You lift up your hand without thinking and put one finger directly in the middle of his chest. Joel almost hides his flinch.

"What do you like?"

He exhales a shaky breath.

"Huh?" You say, when he doesn't reply.

"I liked seeing you sitting in my garage," Joel says after a while, his voice husky and calm.

"Why?"

"I like you watching me work," he says even softer.

You smile up at him. "I already knew that," you say, "tell me something I don't know."

Joel huffs and in one swift motion has snuck his hand into the belt loop at the back of your shorts, grabbing the fabric, pulling you flush to him. The feel of his jeans against yours surely will never leave your head until you pass from this earth. Your chest grazes his still damp shirt and you wonder wether this will be one of those vital moments in your life you later think back on.

"I ain't much of a talker, Sweetheart," he says, using the other hand to brush a strand of hair from your cheek.

"Why do I not believe that, Mr. Miller?" You narrow your eyes. "Or is it Chief now already?"

"When you're standing between my legs, you can call me whatever you want, Darlin'," he says and lowers his head in slow motion.

„I thought it wasn’t about what I want,“ you say.

Joel’s mouth is so close that it would only need a little nudge of his hand to erase the distance between the two of you.

„Out there it’s not,“ he says, his lips moving deliciously slow. „In here, it’s only about what you want.“

„Then show me what you like and I’ll tell you what I want, Jo-„

"JOEL!"

Tommy's voice resounds from the opening front door.

Before he has stepped into the kitchen, you've pushed yourself off of Joel's chest and put as much space as possible between the both of you.

"Joel?" Tommy calls again. "What are you doing? I thought you were gonna come back. I had to stop Mary like five times from calling yo-"

Tommy enters the kitchen and comes to a halt as he sees the both of you on opposite ends of the counter. You in front, Joel in the back, the countertop covering him from the waist down.

"Oh hey," Tommy says and smiles. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother helped me out with some car trouble," you explain. "I tried calling you, but he picked up your phone."

Tommy nods. "Oh yeah, I'm sorry, I was out dancing," he says and does a little shimmy in the doorway. "What happened?"

"Nothing really," you say and wave it off. "The chief came to the rescue."

Joel's eyes flash over to you for a split second and then land back on Tommy.

"Why didn't you come back?" Tommy asks him and Joel shrugs.

"Took longer than I thought," Joel grunts.

Tommy sighs. "You could have called. Mary literally was about to come over here. I think she might have developed a bit of a thing for you. A little much for a first date, but who am I to judge?"

Your head snaps to Tommy. "Date?"

Tommy walks over and laughs, sitting down at the counter. "Oh yeah, I convinced Joel to go out with my friend's sister and I thought it was going well but then he vanished, saving you apparently and didnt come back."

You can't help but grin as you watch Joel's face turn a little red.

"Must have been a good date then?" You ask and Joel rolls his eyes.

"You made me look bad, Joel," Tommy complains and Joel grabs his beer.

"Wasn't for me," Joel says, taking a swig.

"She seemed nice," Tommy says.

"Too agreeable," Joel counters and shoots you a look.

"Didn't know the chief was dating," you say and take a sip of your beer as well.

"Didn't know you'd be interested in knowing," Joel says and Tommy frowns, looking back and forth between you two.

"Alright," Tommy says, "I'll take you home, little C, before you both kill each other."

"Thanks, Tommy," you say and put the bottle on the counter.

"See ya, Chief," you call and leave Joel standing in his kitchen, still leaning against the fridge, watching you like a hawk. The moment you’re in Tommy’s car, your phone resounds with the familiar ding of an incoming message. You pull it out of your pocket and check, a smile spreading on your lips.

Message from Chief: Stay out of trouble. Call if you can’t.

[thetriumphantpanda]

i don't really wanna fight, 'cause nobody's gonna win | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary | A little slice of domesticity wasn't ever going to be enough to cover the stress of the story unfolding on your desk, but it was worth a shot right?

Chapter Warnings | Mentions of drugs and the drug trade, work frustrations, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected PiV smut, creampie, dirty talk, we ride this man like our LIFE depends on it and some ANGST (I'm sorry, it had to happen sometime.)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | OOOOOF okay we're back with these two. Real life has been kicking my ass so I'm sorry this took so long - but we're moving into the tail end of this now so prepare yourselves for even more drama! Thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for this - I hope you enjoy it. If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

The words on the deed to the drug den in town are all forming into one - you’re not actually sure they’re in the English language anymore. You’ve been staring at the pages for what feels like a full week, even if you’d only spread them out for reading on your desk this morning. You don’t know what to do. There is, of course, the obvious option, of walking right up to their front door and asking what the hell is going on, but the more you dig, the more you think there’s something bigger going on here.

You pour over your notes, trying to make sense of it all. It was nothing to do with Tyler Johnson, but it had something to do with his family, that was for sure. There’s no way that this whole thing would have been brushed under the rug and dealt with by the police saying ‘oh well, we don’t know’ if there wasn’t something incriminating behind it all. You tried not to think about that possibly meaning your dad was implicated somewhere along the line.

Instead of sitting around and feeling useless, considering the words on the page weren’t leading you anywhere at all, you tidy up your desk, stick your head around your managers door to tell her you were heading out for the story, and you get in your car and drive.

They lead such dull lives, is all you can really think at this point. The sun is setting and it’s finally starting to cool a little. The thought process had been simple, if you weren’t going to catch them in the act on paper, you would have to catch them in the act for real - whatever that act might be.

You’d started with Tyler’s dad, following behind him as he went about mayoral business, driving from his office to some meeting in town and then back again. You’d waited an hour in the parking lot to see if he moved again, but gave up after a while. Deciding on following Tyler’s brother instead - but he’d been more of the same. You’d found him getting into his car at work once the day was done, driving to the grocery store and then going home. That was it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Thinking about it, what would you even do if you did find them doing something? Tyler’s brother getting a package handed to him down a dark alley - there’s no way to get any proof, you don’t have a camera, and no-one’s going to believe you against them. The more you sit there, the more you think maybe you should have taken the story at face value, published it and moved on.

You suppose that these kinds of operations take time and patience - two things you were running seriously low on by now. You’re thinking of all the time’s Javi must have needed to do this - sitting around in a car waiting to catch someone doing something and wondered how he’d lasted so long. You weren’t made for this kind of work.

Sighing to yourself, you turn the key in the ignition and head home, trying not to let the frustration bubble over. You just had to wait. Bide your time. Surely somewhere along the line you’d catch someone doing something.

“You look stressed.”

You look at Javi through your eyelashes, taking a sip from the glass of wine in front of you on the counter. Your parents were taking their two week annual vacation - some place near the coast in Florida. You remember going when you were little, playing in the sand and swimming. They’d invited you this year but now you were older, it didn’t hold quite the same amount of charm as it used to, so you’d opted to stay at home.

The upside to not getting to lounge in the sun for two weeks was definitely this though. Javier Peña, hunched over the hob, sleeves of his shirt rolled up, cooking dinner for you. It was dangerous to think about how domestic it was, but you couldn’t deny how nice it felt. There was no-one to lie to about why you were late home from work for now, no need to rush through whatever it was that the two of you were doing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t need to be sorry,” He smiles at you, picking up his beer bottle to drink from, “You want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, “It’s alright, just stuff at work.”

“In all my years of working with journalists,” He speaks, stirring the pot of sauce in front of him, “I don’t think any of them were ever as stressed as you.”

“I just care about my work.”

“So did they,” He counters, picking a strand of spaghetti from the pot to test to see if it’s cooked, “Just trying to say there isn’t a story out there worth getting this worked up over.”

“I appreciate it,” You mumble, “But can we not talk about work?”

He holds his hands up in surrender, focusing his attention on dishing up the food - spaghetti with tomato sauce. It’s simple and you know it’s probably the limit of his cooking ability outside of being able to grill meat on fire, but it’s the thought that counts. You sit at the dining table and eat together, talking about nothing really, just enough to fill the silence. Even though he cooked, he insists on clearing up and packaging the leftovers for you to eat tomorrow.

You sit and watch TV on the couch and when it gets late enough and your head starts to rest on his shoulder, Javi asks if you want to go to bed.

“I do,” You answer, “But not to sleep.”

So he slowly leads you up the stairs and into your room, softly closing the door behind him. You settle yourself under your sheets, pushing them back on the other side for him as he takes off everything he’s wearing apart from his underwear and gets into bed with you. He shuffles you around so your back in pressed to his front, his big hands wandering from your hips up to your chest, where he gently cups one of your tits in his hands over the shirt you’re wearing.

You can feel his mouth trailing kissing up your shoulder until he reaches the delicate skin behind your ear, the tickle of his facial hair there making goosebumps rise on your skin, regardless of how warm it is under your sheets.

“What do you want?” He whispers softly, snaking his free arm under your neck so the side of your face is pillowed against it.

You don’t answer, you just take hold of his wrist, dragging his hand from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. You let his hand go then, feeling his big palm cup you through the material, “Like this?” He asks, teeth nipping at your ear lobe.

“No,” You shake your head, “Under.”

That big hand drags up just a little, fingers finding the waistband again, dipping below this time. He tuts into your ear when he finds you bare, having not bothered with underwear when you’d changed out of your work clothes.

His hand is warm against your skin as it envelops you again, fingers dipping ever so slightly between the folds of your pussy to find you already wet, it doesn’t take much at all when he’s around.

Fingers dragging through the slick, up to circle your clit, he speaks again, “Like this?” He asks, feather-light touches of his fingers making you gasp.

“Y-yeah,” You choke out, “Just like that.”

So that’s what he does - let’s you rest your head against his arm, lazily rolling his finger across that bundle of nerves like he has all the time in the world for making you feel good. It’s slow, the only punctuation to his fingers are the moans he lets out into your ear whenever he pushes his hips against the plush of your ass, his bulge prominent against the clothes that are separating you.

“I want you to come for me,” He whispers gently a little while later, teeth biting gently into the skin of your shoulder, “Can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

You nod your head, unable to speak through the short, sharp gasps that the friction between your legs is drawing out from you. He speeds up a little, lets his finger add more pressure there. He lets you roll your hips, chasing at the high that is just there, coiling in your tummy. Your body starts to shake, thighs clamping down on his hands as he brings you over the edge.

“Fuck yeah,” He rasps into your ear, “So fucking pretty when you come for me, mi querida.”

Through the haze of pleasure, you can feel him rolling you over, pressing your back into the sheets. He’s settling between your thighs, pulling your shorts off altogether, but you don’t want it like this, so you press a palm to his warm chest to stop him.

“I want…” You trail off, “I think I want to be on top.”

You watch his eyebrows raise a little but he doesn’t protest, because of course he doesn’t, he simply lies himself back down on his side of the bed and waits for you. You let yourself straddle his thighs, marvelling just a little at the bulge of his underwear, before you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband to drag them just far enough down his thighs to let his cock spring free, resting on his lower stomach.

Shuffling up his thighs a little, you lower yourself, letting your soaked folds drag across his length whilst your mouth moves up to suckle at the skin of his neck. You can feel his hands on the globes of your ass, helping to drag you up and down his cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks as you moan when the head of his cock brushes against your still-sensitive clit.

You don’t have any words, so you press yourself up, palms against his chest as you lift your hips just enough for him to reach between you, base of his cock fisted in his hand, to nudge at the weeping hole of your cunt. He holds it there for you as you slowly start to sink down onto him, moaning with your head thrown back at the stretch of taking him inside. When you reach the bottom, feeling him sucked right into the depths of you, you stay still, rolling your hips a little, feeling him so deep inside you.

Javi brings his hands to your hips, looking up at you as he guides your movements, slow forwards movements matched with even slower movements backwards, until the two of you are panting together.

You push yourself back, letting your arms fall behind you onto his knees, which have come up to rest against your backside, slowly starting to lift off him until he’s almost all the way out of the tight heat of your cunt, then you slide back down onto him, finding a rhythm of bouncing up and down on his cock.

Javi moves one of his hands from your hips, letting the flat palm run up your stomach, through the valley of your tits to lightly grip at the base of your neck. He doesn’t add any pressure, just holds his hand there, but you can feel the effect it has on you, pussy clenching around his length as you continue to bounce up and down on him.

“Look so fucking pretty like this,” He manages to choke out between moans, “Like you were made to be right here bouncing on my cock.”

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come again.” You hiss, feeling that familiar tightening in your tummy.

“Yeah?” He goads, but not unkindly, “You gonna come around my cock for me?”

To help you get there, Javi starts to thrust up into you, hand still at the base of your neck, hitting into your perfectly on your downward motion to fill you right to your depths, making your orgasm hit you head on. You feel yourself tighten around him, body collapsing forward to rest against his chest as he fucks you through the aftershocks of your climax, gripping onto your ass to keep you spread so he can find his own high, thrusting a handful of times before he’s stilling inside you, spilling himself inside with moans right into your ear.

He slips out of you as he softens, shifting you so you’re led down, both catching your breath.

“Sorry, I should have asked about that.” He mumbles, and it takes you a minute to realise he’s talking about coming inside you.

“It’s okay,” You say, turning your head to smile at him, “Although it does mean I have to go to the bathroom now.”

You drag yourself up onto all fours onto your bed, dragging yourself to the door to cover yourself in your robe before you leave Javi in your room to head to the bathroom.

He doesn’t know why he does it. In hindsight, it was out of order, but when you close the door behind you, he can’t help himself. He stands up, pulls his underwear back up and puts the rest of his clothes back on. Then he sits down on your edge of the bed and gingerly opens the top drawer of your bedside table.

There’s nothing much of note in there, a few lip balms and an old notebook, but that’s it. He opens the bottom one next, which is much more full, mainly with notebooks and sheets of paper. He knows he shouldn’t, but he reaches in and picks the first up, flicking it open to a random page somewhere in the middle, running his thumb across a loose sheet of paper before his eyes circle in on what the paper actually is.

It’s a newspaper article, reporting on Escobar’s death. When Javi looks underneath the paper there are notes written in your handwriting, detailing parts of the story that are interesting. He flicks to another page, another article about Escobar dying, with more of your handwritten notes. He can feel the panic rising in his chest, threatening to take hold of his throat.

He puts that notebook on the bed, reaches in and picks another up, flicking through to find more of the same - articles about the entire Escobar case, more handwritten notes - some written in red ink that only ever say his name with a question mark, like you’re asking yourself if he was responsible for the ill-reported heroics. Javi is too caught up in flicking through that he forgets about your return, letting you catch him red-handed when you come back through the door.

“What are you doing?” You ask, making him look up.

Your eyes are wide, like you’re shocked to find him with your notebooks in his lap.

“What’s all this?” He asks, instead of answering your question.

You surge forward, grabbing the notebook from his lap, slapping it shut, picking up the other one and then shoving them back in the drawer, “Did you go through my things?” He can tell from your tone that you’re worked up.

“Why do you have all of that?” Javi asks, standing up from the bed to take some steps away from you.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Well then tell me what it is.” He’s getting more annoyed as the moments go past.

“It was for my degree,” You say, shifting from foot-to-foot, “I don’t understand what the problem is?”

“The problem is, it’s all fucking lies!” He runs a hand over his face, more annoyed at himself for shouting at you than anything else, “It’s all fucking lies and you believe it.”

He watches as your face drops, he can see the glassing over of your eyes, “I-” You try to speak, “I’m sorry?” It’s more of an offering, like you don’t know what else to do.

“All of that shit?” He asks, pointing to the now closed drawer, “Fucking propaganda for this country to seem like it had control, when all it fucking did was make everything worse.”

“Javi, please,” You beg now, taking a step towards him with your hands open in surrender, “Why don’t you sit down and take a breath?”

He can feel himself shaking his head, stepping backwards until he can feel the handle of your door, twisting it to open. He thinks he’s saying sorry, telling you that he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he has to get out of there and away from you, almost running from the house and into his truck.

It’s not until he’s halfway to home that he can feel that panic take over, pulling over on the side of the road, knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. He takes some deep breaths, trying to understand why his brain has gone from 0-100 so quickly, and all he can think of is that you’re just like everyone else in this damn town, thinking that he was a hero, that he’d played his part properly, correctly, in bringing that bastard down. I’d the wondering about what you’d think of him if you knew what he’d really done, the amount of blood actually on his hands, the fact he wasn’t here there when Murphy shot the bastard.

It’s that feeling of inadequacy that haunt him in bed that night, led against the pillows, other side cold and empty when all he wishes is that he’d stayed, let you curl into him so that he could get at least a few hours of rest. Even though he never stays the night, always leaving you with a press of lips to your head, the small hours of the morning where you’re sleeping against him are the most peaceful he thinks he’s ever had.

So, staring at his ceiling, red numbers from his clock staring him down as the hours pass, all he can think about it what the fuck he’s going to do, how he’s going to explain that this has nothing to do with you and what it had to do with your degree, and everything to do with the way he thinks if you knew exactly what had happened, outside of what the American press has told you, you’d probably hate him.

[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 2

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.1K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar

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Three days passed with the same and the schedule between the both of you remains the same. The black cat - you should really start to come out with a name for it - will only come out from the sofa when you feed it, never allowing you to pet it and only starting to eat when you turn away. But you started to get worried. Its fur was matted in blood and you were afraid that it had sustained severe injuries. You wanted to give it a bath to see how bad the injuries were but it was extremely on edge. 

You sighed. Your work shift starts in over an hour and you still need to travel down. You left your room and prepared a big bowl of food and water, placing it at the edge of the sofa. 

“I’m going to go work now, kitty. Don’t eat everything for lunch. Keep some for dinner. I’ll be back before midnight.” You waited to see or hear any response from it but, nothing. You didn’t know what to expect - honestly. 

Your keys clanged against each other as you opened the gate and wore your shoes. “Bye, kitty!” You called out one last time as you hastily locked the gates. 

08 33.

You were going to be so, so late. “Damn it.” You looked at your watch. “Never mind.”

You were going to be late, might as well be late. Right? You ran down the block and unlocked your car. Normally your car sits in the parking lot as you prefer the public transport. However, you can’t afford to be late today. There were important events held today and you need to supply them with the necessities before and during the events. 

You drove as fast as the speed limit allows and managed to reach the shop just in time - spare a minute. 

“Y/N! Good, you’re here.” Your boss exclaimed. “You put everything down first and help pack the cart.”

“With the boxes?” You pointed to the cardboard boxes that were strewn across the floor. He nodded. “Which ones?” You started opening every box to peek inside. “And this cart is for which event?”

Your boss helped you carry the correct boxes to wrap, saying, “This one is for the company event. I think it’s called Furman or something.”

You nodded. “I have no idea what that is.” The both of you burst out laughing. “Normal, eh?” 

The both of you worked together in sync and the things were wrapped, packed, and ready to go. 

“What time does the driver come?” You asked as you sat down on the nearest chair. It was only 10 00 and you were already tired. 

Your boss looked up from his phone and said, “In five minutes. Peng just texted and said he will be reaching soon.” You nodded, getting up from the seats. 

The whole day went by as usual - aching arms, spilling coffee and milk, carrying boxes, serving nasty customers, the list goes on. But today, you were more than happy to go home for a whole new reason. You packed up faster than usual and cleaned up like a speeding train, all to go home earlier to see your cat. 

Well, he wasn’t exactly your cat to say.

What the hell do I call him?

Bringing your bag out of the storage room, you turned to ask your boss, “What is a nice name for a male cat but not generic?” 

“That’s a rather random question?” He looked up from behind the cashier. 

“Come on, please? I wanna go home already.” You whined. “I just need some ideas.”

He scratched his chin. “Did you get a cat?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… Maybe Cookies? Or you can try… What is its fur colour?”

“Erm, black?” Your reply was as if it was a question.

“Blackie? Stormy? Burnt?” He shrugged.

“Hmm, alright thanks.” You scurried out of the shop. “Gotta go, bye!”

You ran for the car park at the back of the building where the store was located and quickly got in. Turning on the engine, you thanked the gods that the roads were fairly empty today, allowing you to reach home earlier than usual. You parked in the multi-story car park where it is sheltered and decided to head over to the nearest supermarket to get some food. 

You headed over to the cat food section, picking out a bag of new kibbles and can food. Then, you gravitated over to the vegetables and meat, chicken, and beef. Maybe some seasoning and a tad bit too many crackers. 

You paid for the groceries and headed up to your block, struggling to grab your keys as you reached your level. You opened your door and ran to the kitchen, putting everything down before rushing back to close the gates. You turned on the lights and started to pack everything into their respective places on the shelves. 

Heading over to the bowls that you have left out for kitty, you spotted that there were only a few kibbles he didn’t finish. You tossed those out and gave them a good wash, placing them on the rack to dry overnight. 

You turned off the lights and cautiously headed to your room, hoping that all the noise you made had not yet woken the sleeping cat under your sofa. But when you stepped into your room, oh, you were so wrong. 

Kitty was indeed asleep but not under the sofa. It hissed at the sudden attack of light that you switched on, scurrying to your pillow’s snout first. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t know you were there. I thought you were sleeping under the sofa.” You dimmed the lights and headed to the closet, walking over to your bathroom from the connection point there. 

Yoongi could hear the water running down the shower room from where he was laying on your bed. He was just about to fall back asleep when you picked him up, making him hiss at the sudden contact. Trying to pry your hands away by lightly scratching you didn’t seem to phase you at all. 

Where are you taking me? PUT ME DOWN! I SAID, PUT ME D - 

“If you want to sleep in my bed, you are going to take a bath first.” You announced, bringing him to the bathtub which you have already filled up with water. 

NO, NO, NO. I DON’T WANT TO BATHE! I WANT TO SLEEP!

You slowly placed him down into the water and he hissed, not wanting to be washed. He sloshed around in the water, attempting to get out but your grip on him was too tight. 

“Come on, kitty. I’ll leave you alone later if you are willing to let me bathe you now.”

Fine. 

So Yoongi floated there, let you wash him up, blow dry his fur, coo over how soft his fur now is, and check his injuries. When he had gotten enough attention, he jumped off the countertop of the basin and trotted back to the pillows with a meow. Letting you close enough was already pushing his instincts, he wanted to rest now and that was exactly what he was going to do. 

Yoongi heard you sigh from the washroom and started to clean things up. He didn’t last too long with the warm pillows and your scent, lulling him into the darkness. 

A few more weeks went by and the schedule essentially stayed the same. Nothing really changed. 

Nothing really changed. 

Food schedules may not have changed but your cat sure did. Kitty, you decided to call it, started to be more comfortable with you after that day you bathed him. His injuries didn’t seem too bad, just a few scratches here and there but have mostly healed over the past few days. You realised that it was indeed a he and that his fur - oh, it was the softest thing you have ever touched. It was even nicer than the fluffy rugs you have lying on the floor of your house. 

Sometimes, you even wake up with him snuggled in between your arms. 

What a character this cat has.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until a few days ago when you realised that your cat wasn’t eating as much as he used to. He ran fevers, occasionally spasming, and always whined for your attention every time you were near. Hell, you think that he probably vomited while you weren’t around too! You decided to take a leave today to see exactly what was wrong with your cat. 

So the moment that you woke up, you prepared to leave for the veterinarian. Your cat, however, did not seem at all fond of the idea. It mewled and clung onto your sofa when you tried to bring it out of the house. 

“Come on!” You struggled. “Come on, kitty, seriously! You have been sick for god knows how long and I’m not going to let you keep going like that!” You huffed. “Come…On! Let’s go already. The faster you finish, the faster we can come home.”

When you finally managed to get him out of the door, he meowed the whole way to the vet, almost ripping apart the towel that you had wrapped him in. You heaved a sigh of relief when you reached and got him into the clinic, heading right to the registration counter. 

“Hello, what are you here for?” 

“Erm, my cat has been having fevers and spasming recently. I would like to have him checked out.” You said, eyes darting around the place, seeing many different animals and feeling real… Out of place. You only fed the stray cats downstairs your blocks but never really had a pet by yourself. 

“Have you seen any doctors or come before?”

You shook your head. “No, we haven’t.”

The receptionist nodded. “How long has this been going on?”

You tried to think back to the earlier times when you started to suspect that your cat was sick. “Erm, about a few - maybe around four - days ago?”

“Alright.” The receptionist typed something into her computer and took out a ticket. “You can head over to the seat and wait for your queue number. It will show up on the screen when it is being called.”

You thanked her and went to take a seat. 

A3009, You read on the ticket. 

“That’s still a long way from ours, kitty. It’s only A286 right now. Hang in there.” You told him as he started to gag after a while. You ran your hands down his back in an attempt to calm him down. 

He started to shift around in your hold and you started to panic. “Erm,” You looked up, trying to ask for help just as he puked, vomit splattering off the floor and onto your shoes. People jumped back and pets got startled. The receptionists and nurses came out, trying to diffuse the commotion and clean the mess. 

You stood there trying to calm your cat down to no avail. “Gods, I’m so sorry -”

“It’s fine.” A nurse said. “I think this is more serious than you may have thought. Go to room five and knock. The doctor there will let you in. The receptionist has already informed her that you would be going first.”

You nodded and rushed to the room on as steady feet as possible, hoping that your quick movements would not trigger him again. 

ROOM 5: DR. PARK JI-HYUN

You knocked and went in, hastily greeting the doctor before explaining what was going on. “I really have no idea and I didn’t know how bad it was. I thought it would have gone away after a while.”

Dr Park conducted some tests and checked his lungs. As the results came back, the frown on his doctor’s brows was not making him feel any better. All the sources online stated that stray cats have a much stronger immune system to counter diseases than domestic cats do, so you decided to try for a few days. 

“I think it isn’t quite the problem of what your cat has eaten or what disease it has contracted.” Dr Park said. She scribbled something on the papers and moved to the screens, calling somebody to arrange for some sort of transportation. 

When she came back, she looked you dead in the eyes and frowned. Sighing, she said, “Goodness, how do I phrase this?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your cat isn’t a cat. It is a hybrid.” 

[irb-pascalito-99]

Let Me Paint You

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: After posing for a painting Joel decides he needs to do some painting of his own.

Warnings: oral f!receiving and m!receiving, edging, unprotected p in v sex, riding, sex on a canvas

A/N: This is an excerpt from chapter thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more please visit a03.

After dinner we wash the dishes and settle in the living room to pick a movie for the night. Joel is thumbing through our collection of DvDs when a knock sounds on the front door. Both of us freeze, unsure of who could be stopping by right now.

We exchange a look as the visitor knocks again. I go to the door while Joel makes his way up the stairs. I wait until I hear a door close upstairs before I open the one in front of me.

On the front step Maria stands with her hands in her pockets. The evening sun casts an orange glow upon her as it starts to sink in the sky.

“So you are alive,” Maria jests, a smirk spreading across her face. “I’ve been texting you all day. I was trying to see if you wanted to hang out since Ellie is off on that school trip, but I got worried when I didn’t hear anything back. Why haven’t you responded?”

My chest tightens. I haven’t even looked at my phone since I got home last night, abandoning it with my purse and keys in the doorway the second I got home. I try to think of an excuse as to why I couldn’t respond while Maria peers into the house behind me.

“I’ve just been really busy with things today,” I say, fiddling with my fingers. I pull the door closer to me so she can’t see inside. “I’ve been cleaning and painting. Just enjoying the alone time, totally spaced my phone I guess.”

Maria’s eyebrows scrunch together. She tries to look behind me again and then looks back at my face as though she’s trying to decipher whether or not I’m lying.

“So there’s nobody else here?” Maria asks. I try to keep my reaction small so she can’t catch on to anything. “Because normally your car is in the garage but it’s in the driveway now, and you’re acting kind of strange…”

I see my car in the driveway behind her. We had moved it out there to make room fit the truck in the garage. I put a palm to my forehead and feign a reaction as if I’m just now remembering it’s out there.

“I must have forgot to move it back. I was cleaning the garage earlier and had to move it out there.” I can tell Maria doesn’t buy the lie.

I don’t know why I’m trying so hard. Out of anyone Maria is probably the one person I can tell about us, but there’s something I like about hiding it. It’s like in keeping this secret, I keep a piece of Joel for just myself. Keeping it a secret may have started as a way of protecting Ellie, but it feels as though I’m protecting Joel and I as well.

From my experience, love is hardly ever simple or kind. Love is heartbreak, and the outside world can only break what we have. I like our secret, and even though it’s just Maria on my doorstep I will do whatever I can to keep our small piece of the world separate.

“Well, I’m sorry you drove all the way out here but I’m kind of in the groove right now with this painting,” I say.

Maria’s eyes flick up to the stairs. She doesn’t ask any other questions though. She nods, says her goodbyes, and drives away. When her car disappears I close the door again. Joel is silent upstairs.

I go to my bedroom first, expecting him to be laying on my bed or standing by the window, but he isn’t there. I check the bathroom as well. When I find no trace of him I make my way to the art studio.

I find him standing there, observing some artwork stashed away in the closet. His fingers gently brush against the top of the canvases as he moves from one to the other. I tread lightly across the room and brush my hands softly against his back. He jumps at the touch, quickly putting the paintings back in their place.

“You’re being nosy,” I say playfully as I wrap my arms around his chest. He stiffens under my touch, clearly feeling guilty for being caught snooping through my stuff.

“Sorry, saw Maria through the window and then the closet door was open so I was just curious. Figured you’d be talkin’ for a bit.” I peek my head around his shoulder to see what he’s looking at.

The first painting in the stack is a woman in a rowboat with a faint lantern glowing in the distance. I forgot this is where I chose to store my mother’s work. I still have a hard time looking at it.

“Did you do these?” Joel asks. I shake my head.

“Those were my mom’s actually.” I bury my face in Joel’s back, trying to seem as unbothered as possible.

Joel hums in response and looks at the paintings again. I suppose this is Joel’s first interaction with who my mother truly was. He knows she died in the accident. He knows she was an artist and Frank’s friend, but I never really talk about her life.

“She was really talented,” Joel says.

“Yeah, she was,” I say. I rest my chin on his shoulder, looking for a way to change the subject.

Joel ponders a thought for a moment as I admire the way the evening sun casts a beautiful glow on his tan skin through the open window.

“Can I paint you?” I ask. I feel Joel’s body jolt as he chuckles beneath me.

“You already have,” he says with a smirk. He points to a couple of paintings hidden in the back of the closet.

Anything I paint of Joel has to either be obscure, or hidden so Ellie doesn't find it. I’ve been able to paint him from memory, but it would be nice to have a visual for once.

“No, I want you to model for me.” Joel shifts uncomfortably as I run my hands along his arms. “Please, just for a little bit. The lighting is so good right now.”

Joel huffs, but nods his head. I happily grab the chair from Ellie’s desk and place it in front of the window. He grumpily sits down and allows me to position him the way I want. I put one of his arms around the back of the chair and the other resting on his knee.

He stays still as I pick out my colors and get the canvas ready. It isn’t until after I’ve painted his form and begun to work on the details that he starts to get antsy. He moves slightly in the chair, apologizing when I shoot him a look. His eyes wander the room as I paint the highlight of the golden sun on his cheek.

“What was she like?” Joel asks, breaking the silence in the room.

“Who?” I ask, keeping my focus on my painting.

“Your mom,” he responds. I freeze with the brush against the canvas.

It’s not that my mom was a bad person, but I find it hard to talk about her now. Talking about her is a reminder of what I’ve lost, and I hate to dwell in those feelings for long which is why I’ve been avoiding the topic.

This time there’s no way out. Joel waits patiently for my response, not moving from the position I’ve sat him in. I shift in my seat and clear my throat as I try to think of a way to explain who she was.

“She was really creative,” I start. “She never found something she couldn’t make herself. She was funny, and smart, and very supportive of Ellie and I in whatever we wanted to do.”

I smile at the memories of her, picturing the way she would pick Ellie up after a fall and sweep her into her arms.

“She loved deeply,” I continue. “She was strong in whatever she did. Which also meant she felt emotions really strongly, whether that was love or sadness or anger. I saw a lot more of that when I got older. After Ellie was born, her and my dad started fighting a lot more…”

My throat begins to become thick with emotion, so I clear it and focus on the light again. I work on getting the shadows correctly on his jaw, trying to ignore the way his eyes linger on my reaction.

“What about your dad?” I drop my paintbrush on the floor as Joel speaks again. I curse under my breath as I go to pick it up.

Talking about my mom is hard enough, but I wouldn’t know where to begin with my dad. I don’t know how to understand, let alone explain the two versions of him that exist in my mind. When I was small he was kind and playful, gone a lot but always present when he was there. Later in life, after he stopped traveling for work, he was irritable and withdrawn. He wasn’t mean, but he dampened the mood in the room.

“Can we just,” I take a breath as I stand up to paint again. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to focus right now.”

Joel’s eyes soften, noting that the mention of my father must have been too far. He remains silent as he watches me work for a little longer, but something is off now. The art becomes more mechanical and methodical than before. The brush doesn’t flow as it did. Joel must notice the difference too, because he shifts in his chair.

I begin to protest when he stands up from the chair I’ve sat him in. The lighting will be gone before he settles again. He tunes me out as he grabs the biggest empty canvas he can find and lays it flat on the ground.

“What are you-“ Joel grabs my palette from my hands next, placing it on the cart next to my easel. He cuts me off by placing a gentle kiss to my lips as his hands grab the hem of my shirt.

“It’s my turn,” he says. “Let me paint you.”

He pulls my shirt over my head, sucking in a breath when he exposes my bare chest and stomach, and then continues to undress me. His fingers grasp the waistband of my leggings. He pulls them down my legs, waiting on his knees for me to step out of them.

He puts my leggings in a pile on top of my shirt before kissing up my bare legs. I throw my head back and sigh at the feeling while his fingers climb up to my hips. He pulls my underwear down as well, leaving me completely bare in the middle of the room. Something about this feels more vulnerable than when we were on the stairs or in the kitchen. I’m suddenly aware of how exposed I am.

I shiver as he kisses his way back up my body. When he’s standing again he kisses my lips and then pulls back to look me over. His eyes gleam with desire as they graze over every inch of my body.

Joel is still wearing all his clothes. My hands reach forward to grip his shirt. I need us to be even. I can’t have everything focused on me right now, but that’s what Joel has decided.

He pushes my hands away and picks up a paintbrush. I watch him anxiously as he dips the brush in the bright yellow paint on my palette before turning back to me. I pinch my eyebrows together as he walks behind me.

My body jolts at the feeling of the cold liquid trailing down my skin. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can feel the tickling sensation of a paint brush against my skin. He spends a while doing it, coating my entire back in an assortment of colors. When he’s done he walks me back to the canvas he placed on the floor.

“On your knees darlin’” he says, the paintbrush in his hands. I follow his instructions embarrassingly quickly.

Once I’m on my knees he delicately directs me backwards so I’m laying on top of the canvas on the floor, then he stands again. I begin to pant as I watch him load the palette up with colors again. He glances back in my direction quickly and then takes his shirt off. A tension builds in my pelvis as he takes off all of his clothes except for his boxers.

He brings the palette and brush back over to where I lay on the floor, putting them on the ground before kneeling in front of me. His eyes wander slowly over my body again. He mutters something I can’t quite hear under his breath while he picks up the paint brush again.

Gently he strokes the brush down the middle of my chest. I squirm at the feeling, the paint on my back smearing along the canvas as I do. A devious look appears in his eyes as he continues to run the brush along my chest and stomach until it runs out of paint. He loads the brush up with red next then starts with my left breast.

The bristles brush along the top of my breast until he reaches my nipple. I let out a whine as he swirls the brush along the sensitive nub. When he’s satisfied he chooses another color for the other breast, bright purple illuminating my skin as my chest begins to heave. I can feel the slick collecting between my thighs. I desperately need his hands on me which only makes him go slower.

When I’m completely covered in paint Joel puts the brush back down on the palette and sits on his knees to admire his work. I squirm again and desperately attempt to squeeze my legs together to ease the tension. My desperation only seems to darken the lust in his eyes. I try to sit up and reach for him, but he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.

“Joel, please,” I whimper. His face hovers above mine, a cruel smirk spreading across it.

“Stay there babygirl,” he whispers and releases my hands.

I watch with heavy breaths as he moves back on the floor. His hands push my knees apart to expose my core to him. He groans at the sight of my glistening center.

“So fuckin’ wet baby,” he growls. He swipes his thumb across my folds causing me to jump. “You keep your hands up there sweetheart, don’t move ‘em or I’ll stop.”

I nod my head quickly, my hips gliding back and forth on the canvas as I wait for him to touch me again. He licks his lips before laying on the ground. His hands grip my thighs as he pulls himself up to my center. I feel his breath against me first, a rush of warm air causing the tension in my stomach to jump.

He presses a delicate kiss to my clit, teasing the sensitive bud, and then licks a stripe up my center. I moan and squirm again. His lips smile against my core as he pulls himself closer and thrusts his tongue inside me.

A loud guttural moan escapes my lips as he begins to feast between my thighs. I desperately grasp the edge of the canvas to keep my hands from grabbing him as he curls his tongue inside me. I could almost come from that alone, all the tension from his teasing building into a pit of pleasure in my core. I can’t control the way my body thrashes against the canvas as he moves his tongue to flick against my clit.

“God, Joel,” I moan. He picks up his speed, eating me as though it’s his last meal on earth. I’m already so close to the edge when he moves one hand from my thigh to press two fingers inside me.

I scream as he thrusts them in and out, my grip on the canvas tightening. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pressure builds. He crooks his fingers so they press against the sensitive part inside me. The rush of sensitivity as he does so is what causes me to break my resolve. Without thinking, my hands release the canvas and bury themselves in his hair.

Joel immediately pulls away, tutting his tongue as he crawls back to his knees. I whine again and attempt to pull him back to me as I squirm.

“Please, I’m sorry. Please, don’t stop,” I beg. Tears escape my eyes while I squeeze my thighs again, so desperate for the release that just barely escaped me.

“Oh princess, you make this so hard.” Joel says. He reaches a thumb to my cheek to wipe the tears away. “One more chance sweet girl, roll over.”

I look at him questioningly, but I’m too far gone to argue. I roll onto my hands and knees, the paint causing me to slide a bit on the canvas. He leans back and watches as I get myself ready for whatever he has planned next. I hear him shuffle behind me, but I can no longer see what he is doing.

When I’ve stopped moving his hand moves up my leg, gripping my ass for a moment before pulling away. I gasp when I feel his hands return with a sharp smack to my ass. Then he pulls my cheeks apart and moves forward.

He must have taken off his boxers when I turned around because I can feel his bare length push against my dripping folds. I bite my lip as he slides it against my center.

“You want this baby?” I nod, biting my lip so hard I can taste the blood filling my mouth. He moans as he presses himself forward, filling me once again.

I stay completely still while he pushes into me, focusing on the burning stretch until I feel his hips flush with my ass. I keep my hands rooted on the canvas as he pulls back again, but when he thrusts in harder than before I slide and collapse on my stomach. Joel goes down with me.

His chest is pressed against my back, his hands keeping mine pressed against the slippery canvas as he pulls back and thrusts into me again. We moan in unison as he continues his thrusts. My body sides across the canvas with each one and his slides against mine.

The whole thing is messy and slippery, a combination of sweat and paint with loud moans echoing down the halls. He kisses my neck, leaving marks on the skin, as my climax begins to build again. My walls clench around him, signaling how close I am. He thrusts harder, his fingers intertwined with mine as he slides my body up and down.

I’m staring out at the pink and purple sky through the window when orgasm crashes over me. My walls flutter around Joel as I scream. His low moans rumbling through his chest while he continues to thrust into me. When I come down he pulls out and directs me to get up.

He lays down on his back, moving me to climb on top of him. I position my knees on either side of his hips and watch his face twist in pleasure as I sink down on his length. The both of us are covered in paint now, a smattering of colors bleeding together on his chest as he grips my hips.

I throw my head back as I bounce in his lap. He feels so good at this angle. I can feel every vein and ridge of his cock as I slowly rise and lower my body onto him. It’s my turn to tease now.

I try to keep my pace slow, to torture him just a little bit, but it becomes difficult when I feel the pleasure bubbling up inside me again. I can see in his eyes he can tell I’m close again.

His hands move up to squeeze my breasts as I ride him. I feel his fingers pinching my paint covered nipples and moan. I’m not going to last long. He starts to thrust up as well, meeting me halfway as my hips start to lose momentum. My hands press against the canvas as I attempt to keep my pace with my climax looming over me.

“It’s okay sweet girl, come here,” he says. I lower my chest into his and let him take over. He thrusts hard into me a couple of times before I shudder again. “That’s right, let go. Come on.”

I clench around him one more time before letting go completely. He swallows my moans, kissing me deeply while he continues his thrusts until he can’t any longer.

“God, I’m gonna-“ he thrusts again and then stills. “Get up, you gotta-“

Joel pulls me off of him quickly. I climb down his body to take his pulsing member in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the head, and that’s all he needs to release his load into my mouth with a deep moan. His hips twitch as he lets go, spilling into my mouth. When he finishes I sit up and swallow his load.

“Fuck,” he groans. I smile back at him. He carefully stands up, doing his best not to slip on the canvas.

We both stand back and look at what we created. It’s a mess of color, still wet with no clear reasoning behind any of it. There are places where the colors blend so much that they’ve become a muddled brown or gray. In other areas bright shades of color shine through virtually untouched.

“Damn, I really thought I did something there,” Joel says with his hands on his hips. “Kinda just looks like a mess though.”

I lean forward and kiss a patch of skin on his shoulder untouched by the paint.

“I don’t know, I kinda like it.” I say. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.

“Well, you’re the artist,” he says before pressing a kiss to my hair.

We abandon the idea of a movie completely, choosing instead to bathe together so we can wash the paint off our skin. Joel’s hands are gentle as they wash my body, the colorful water pooling at our feet. He let the water run cold against his back as he pushed his fingers inside me again, slowly working me up until my body spasms again.

The rest of the night we stayed in bed, talking and fucking until we fell asleep.

Read more on a03: Always an Angel, Never a God

[ten-cent-sleuth]

A Galling Yoke, Part 4

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for the “Where did you get this?” square on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

Plagued by thoughts of Sherlock, you did not find the peace you thought you would once he stopped coming around to Voss House every day. Fortunately, Rogers had kept the calling card from his first visit. As you made your way down London’s bustling streets to the address on that card, you replayed the arching of your butler’s eyebrow at your request for Sherlock’s information and cringed for the impression you must have left.

But it wasn’t how it looked. You didn’t miss Sherlock, at least not so strongly you couldn’t last a sennight without seeing him. No. That wasn’t what was happening here. Only, you couldn’t stop thinking about how lovely that conversation in the guest bedroom had been; with a few days’ distance, you could even appreciate the first half of it, the serious half.

You pressed your lips together to not break into a mad-looking smile in public. Talking to Sherlock had been…had been… Oh, who cared what the word was? The material point was that upon reflection, you would retract your decision to keep to yourself your suspicions of Edmund’s infidelity. Getting them off of your chest was an appealing prospect, and getting them off of your chest to Sherlock could only be a relief.

Right?

You paused on the doorstep of 221 Baker Street. Yes…what if he wasn’t as supportive or as understanding as he had been when hearing about your injury? What if—

The sharp clack of a hackney wheel knocking a cobblestone loose behind you made you jump. Watching the groom slow and calm down the horses as he argued with his passenger about where he was supposed to stop, you chuckled away your doubts. The last few days had shown you that you would not get anything done until you’d cleared your conscience of keeping something from Sherlock, and if he didn’t care after that, it wouldn’t matter. Your heart didn’t rely on his steadfastness.

At least, not anymore.

You knocked on the door and waited. If nobody was in now, you could come back in an hour, but surely—

“Hello!”

Turning, you recognised after a moment the passenger that had just been gesticulating at that hackney driver. You frowned now that you had a closer, better look; with her light curls and rosy cheeks, she looked entirely too young to be taking a cab by herself.

“Hello,” you returned with a healthy dose of hesitation. A glance around easily told you that there was nobody who could properly perform introductions for you two, and you had never been made to introduce yourself before. “Do you… Do you live here?”

With a flourish, the girl pulled out a key and squeezed around you. “No, but my brother gave me a key in case I ever needed to stop by. Which I do today. Well, clearly.”

She laughed, and you found your wariness seeping away. “You would trust a stranger to let her into your brother’s flat, then?” you teased.

“Certainly not,” she retorted as she pushed the door open. “I’m simply letting you into the building, see. And if you’ve nefarious business for anyone else, that shall only increase business for my brother—or, even better, for me. So as long as you’re not to rob 221b, then feel free to…”

You gasped and took the old calling card out of your pocket. “But that is— You are—?” Regathering your wits as you followed her up the stairs, you said, “Miss Holmes, I presume?”

The girl whirled around on the top step, her eyes wide. After giving you a once-over, she guessed your name and title, though a grin was spreading across her face even before you confirmed her deduction. “Oh, I had hoped to meet you!” she exclaimed, unlocking 221b and ushering you inside. “Sherlock’s told me all about your case—well, okay, not really. Sherlock’s told me all about you and how you were the best of friends at Ferndell and how he’s been helping you recently. He was quite eager to seize this opportunity to renew his acquaintance with you, you know. Fifteen years apart! How horrible! Is it true you were married within months of your coming-out?”

You smiled wanly. “Unhappily, yes. I had not realised that was my father’s plan, else I would not have come to London with such little protest.”

Miss Holmes returned your smile with sympathy. “Sherlock told me that you both thought you would return to Shropshire within a six-month, and that was all that soothed the pain of separating at all.”

“Indeed?” You paused to raise your brow at her. “He certainly tells you a lot, Miss Holmes.”

Reddening, she waved away your words. “Well, he told me the first part; I could deduce the second. In any case, you must call me Enola! No one calls me ‘Miss Holmes’, even that nincompoop Tewkesbury.”

Your brow rose higher, but she paid no mind as she went on—

“It is splendid you two have reunited. You are here to visit with Sherlock, then? Oh, I am pleased—no one should be alone all the time. A friend would do him well.”

“Enola, I am happy to see him today, but…,” you chuckled awkwardly. “We are only working together on a case, see, and, well…”

You shrugged, and with a thoughtful hum, she disappeared into the kitchen asking how you liked your tea. After answering her, you took the chance to take in Sherlock’s living space. You brushed your palm across the back of a chair and smiled, endeared by the familiar atmosphere of the refined comfort and organised chaos that had always clung to Sherlock at Ferndell and that had evidently followed him to London. The only difference that left an impression on you was the addition of a heady masculine scent, still entirely Sherlock in quality but a facet that had been underdeveloped when you had left Shropshire all those years ago. Breathing it in, you lowered yourself onto the chair and dispelled the heartache that Enola had unwittingly brought back to the fore. You had not yet forgiven your father for his deception, but that was no reason to be gloomy in such cheerful company.

Re-entering with a tea tray, Enola resumed the discussion of her brother’s isolation: “Sherlock does not even like to talk to me about his concerns, although he is frustratingly ready to discuss anything troubling me. Well, anything professional troubling me, of course—surely I do not need to tell you that he avoids talk of feelings and personal thoughts as one avoids the plague.”

You stifled a chuckle with a sip of your tea. “No, indeed, you do not. Is that all your sibling relationship comprises, then? Crime and mystery?”

“I’m working on it,” sighed the poor girl. “I came today to ask him for advice about an issue that is not exactly a crime or a mystery. See, at the market I overheard Mr Ramsbury of Marylebone Road talking about his daughter’s broken engagement with a Mr Gibbon, and I could not resist looking into it when he sounded so vexed. Unfortunately, now I am in quite the pickle, as I do not know whether to share my findings with him. Mr Ramsbury did not hire me—I’m still having trouble getting somebody to, I confess—but perhaps he would want to know. He is quite exasperated with Miss Ramsbury at the moment, but if he knew that Mr Gibbon used to strike her, surely he would not blame her anymore.”

“Has Mr Gibbon interfered with Miss Ramsbury?” you asked.

“No,” she answered with a set to her jaw that you had never seen before in someone her age. “Apparently, he was only interested in her for her dowry, and he recently came into an inheritance that can take care of him for life; he has made it clear to his acquaintances that he desires no woman encumbering him at all now.”

You nodded. “Has breaking off the engagement harmed Miss Ramsbury’s prospects?”

“Oh, not a whit,” said Enola, her countenance lightening. “I had plans to check in on her main current suitors after seeing Sherlock—” She broke off with a blush. “Er, only perfunctorily, of course; I wouldn’t want to violate anyone’s privacy.”

“I am certain Miss Ramsbury would be grateful to have a guardian angel, if she were to know,” you said. “Though I do not think the family need know. If she has not told Mr Ramsbury, she does not want him to be aware; if the only problem that telling him would solve is his frustration with her, doing so is not necessary for her safety and happiness. Should he find out, he may exacerbate the situation by quarrelling or brawling with Mr Gibbon. Fathers, and brothers for that matter, tend to do that, do they not? In this affair, I would follow Miss Ramsbury’s lead—she knows her father’s character and their familial dynamic, not to mention her own needs, best.”

Enola’s eyes were round and bright as she listened to you think aloud, and once you concluded, she pried open her reticule and pulled out an ivory pocket notebook. “That is excellent advice,” she muttered. “I shall do as you instruct.”

You leapt to your feet and hurried to her side. “That was by no means an instruction!” you cried. “I was merely thinking through the problem. You have yet to ask your brother, you recall, and—” You froze as you saw the embroidered ribbon threaded into the notebook’s hinge. Your sense of propriety overcome by awed surprise, you lifted the ribbon. “Where did you get this? This notebook?”

Enola furrowed her brow for an instant before realisation smoothed it back. “Oh! I had forgotten this was originally yours.”

“Yes,” you said, wading through memories you had not thought of in a very long time. “Your mother gave it to me as a birthday gift one year, as a matter of fact. I did not think to bring it with me when I came to London. This ribbon though, it was Sherlock’s. I was trying a new pattern, and while it turned out well, I did not quite like the look of it. Your brother offered to take it so it would not be wasted. I never knew what he did with it.”

Enola shrugged. “Perhaps he used it as a book-marker originally? I know not; by the time he gave the notebook to me, these two were attached. He said you carried it around with you everywhere, so I might find it useful for my investigations. I have, by the way,” she added. “Being able to erase my notes after I’ve transferred them to a permanent journal or no longer need them so I can reuse the same pages over and over is rather handy for a detective with a minimised budget. Oh,” she gasped, “should I give it back to you?”

“No, no, that is quite all right,” you reassured her, letting go of the ribbon and stepping back to carry your point. “I am glad it serves you well. I am only surprised that Sherlock had them!”

“From what I have gleaned from Mrs Lane’s and Mother’s stories of the time before Sherlock and Mycroft left, your brother—Lord Pashbroke, is it?—ensured any of your effects that he did not want getting lost or ruined in your absence were spirited away to Ferndell. Sherlock must have decided what to keep at home and what to bring with him here.” Her eyes flashed with a certain glint that you had not witnessed since you fared the Holmeses well for the last time; that spark of mischief must run in the family. “You know, I suspect I know where he hides that box of keepsakes here, for I glimpsed it when he gave me the notebook. Would you like me to—”

The squeal of door hinges cut her off.

“Enola, I know you are here. What have I told you about being in my rooms when I am not—”

You had shot to your feet at the sound of his voice, and now that he finally noticed you, you curtsied. “Mr Holmes, I apologise for—”

“No, I— You are welcome here, of course, my lady.” He blinked. “That is, so is my—so are you, Enola. I only meant that I trust you, my lady, to not move everything.”

His eyes cut to his sister, who scoffed in outrage.

“I do not move ev—”

“How are you?” he asked you, his soft gaze entirely at odds with how he pointedly ignored Enola’s grumbles. “Is your”—he paused to glance at your knee—“all right?”

You smiled, hoping he would understand your gratitude for his discretion. “The weather has been warm enough recently for the walk from Voss House to 221 Baker Street.” You, perhaps, should not have stood up so sharply at his entrance, but you need not worry him with that knowledge…though you did not begrudge yourself a gentle return to your seat once he had also claimed a chair. “Enola and I have been discussing you and your…field of work, sir.”

The girl giggled at how Sherlock’s face fell. “We’ve enjoyed each other’s company very well!” she told him. “I’ve only been in London with you for a few months, Sherlock, but it’s lovely how our circle is already growing. The three of us shall be a merry group, shall we not?”

You looked away from watching him closely, unprepared to see how he would take that question.

“Isn’t it amusing?” she went on. “For a whole year, we lived quite closely, yet this is the first time we’ve been in the same room after such a separation that I don’t even recall the last time.” 

“I do,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “You were sick all over my dress. Eudoria said it was salvageable, but I elected to consign it to the fire anyway.”

Enola flushed. “I…feel as though I should apologise?”

“All is forgiven. After all, you were a very dear girl even at that age. I regret not having witnessed your childhood and adolescence.”

“I as well,” interjected Sherlock.

She beamed. “Well, we can be the best of companions now.” Her smile turned sly as she glanced between you and her brother. “I’m happy you’re even sharing your workload with someone, Sherlock.”

“I work alone,” he reminded her with a frown.

You opened your mouth, some inexplicable instinct compelling you to argue against that, but you paused—what argument did you actually have?

Enola jumped over your hesitation: “Oh, come now, Sherlock! She may not have the sensory processing and extended reasoning skills that you do, but she is quite proficient at understanding social implications and personal consequences.”

“And how, pray tell, have you come to be so certain of that?” he griped.

“Why?” she demanded. “Do you disagree?”

“No, but—”

“Excellent!” she said, clasping her hands. “Perfect, even, since she came here to discuss her case with you…yes?”

You nodded at her inquiring look. “Yes. I… I had a thought about what might have factored into Mr Sulyard’s murder, if he did indeed die as my father believes.”

“I suppose that is fortuitous timing,” sighed Sherlock. “I have just received the report from the coroner, anyhow—he was quite put out by my request for papers so old and took his time finding them for me. We may discuss both developments.” He glanced at Enola. “Later, that is.”

Waving a hand, she climbed to her feet. “No, no, you see that I am off now, so you may discuss sensitive information at leisure,” she said as she shut her reticule and adjusted her clothes. “It has been a pleasure to meet you once more”—she smiled and nodded at you—“and an absolute delight to see you again, Brother, as always.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good day, Enola.”

“Wait,” you said, “did you not have your own business with Sherlock?”

His gaze darted to you, and you realised—too late—that you had let his Christian name slip out in his hearing for the first time in a decade and a half.

Enola grinned. “No, I have gotten precisely what I was looking for.”

With that, she was gone, and you and Sherlock were left alone in his flat. He huffed and shook his head, but the corners of his eyes and of his mouth were soft with fondness.

Perhaps…it would not be such an unthinkable thing, being Sherlock’s friend again. Perhaps he had changed—grown—more than you thought.

“Shall we begin, my lady?”

For once, you allowed your smile to be without constraint. Shall we begin, indeed. “Yes, I believe I would like that, Sherlock.”

Thank you for reading. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for updates. :) I hope I didn’t screw up my first attempt at characterising Enola haha. Feedback is always welcome!

[beezusvreeland]

a very good idea - chapter 12

summary: After your boyfriend cheats on you at a party, you break up with him, who tells you nobody else is willing to be with you like him. You decide to prove him wrong, with a little help from a new friend.

ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader

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Chapter 12

You weren’t avoiding Miguel. Well, you sort of were, but you just needed some room to breathe and process what Peter told you. Miguel doesn’t just like you. He has had feelings for you ever since I met him. Probably even before that.

Peter was a good friend and there was no reason for him to lie to you. Still, it was hard to believe: Miguel likes you, he has liked you for a long time. The swirl of your feelings quickly transformed into a ruthless hurricane. Because Miguel could have anyone one he wanted, yet he wanted you. 

Although it was exciting to even consider this possibility, you were so confused. You had known each other for many years and he never made a move. And he had plenty of opportunities to do so: the only person you ever dated was Harry, you had been single the rest of the time. Which begged the question: why did Miguel never ask you out? Why wouldn't he even talk to you? Was he embarrassed of being seen with you? Was he embarrassed of you? 

It hurt to even consider that. Over the years, you watched his line of ever changing girlfriends grow, one girl more beautiful than the other. Miguel was mysterious and low key, with the smoothness of a bad boy without really being one. Every now and then, you found him in a hidden corner with a smirk on his face, whispering sweet nothings into girls’ ears as he stroke their hair or their hips. It drove them crazy. And now you understood them. He could make you feel like you are the only person in the room. If Miguel has liked you so much for so long, how come you had to drag him into a fake relationship scheme to find out? 

Your brain went from one memory to another. That night at the party, before everything went south, the two of you were having a nice moment. You could feel Miguel’s walls breaking down. Yours too. You barely recognized yourself from the way you flirted with him, not because it wasn’t you, but because it was a new and intriguing part of yourself you didn’t know you had. When you were with Miguel, you could just be present and enjoy his company, a nice change from always wondering about the future as if the present was something you were watching on the sidelines. 

The amount of mixed signs overwhelmed you. Because deep down, you knew you had feelings for Miguel. You thought about him often and sometimes would allow yourself to fantasize what would be like if the pair of you were together, actually together. And then there was the other part, the devil on your shoulder releasing all of your insecurities telling you that it was all a joke, Miguel would never want you for real, he was just messing with you. 

***

Your anxiety was so bad, you skipped lunch. Not only your stomach was acting like a balloon being squeezed until it almost popped, you knew you couldn’t handle the idea of seeing Miguel. So you spent that time in a hidden nook between bookcases in the library. Seated on the floor, you put your headphones on and pressed play on your phone. The playlist “in case of emergency” you created started with “Backseat”, by Charli XCX and Carly Rae Jepsen. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, the harmonies of the song slowly making you feel a bit more comfortable. All alone, all alone, all alone, all alone, they sang. My fingers run through his hair, my fingers run through his hair, my fingers run through his hair. 

Feeling a tiny bit better, you got up and headed to your english class. You were so focused on not breaking down that you didn’t pay attention to where you were going, you just trusted your body to get there. 

Everything else was a blur. That must be why you didn’t notice your ex-boyfriend’s best friend Flash Thompson waiting for you in the hallway. You were walking past him when he grabbed your arm, making you stop. He brought you closer to the wall.

“So, do you have the essay with you?”

You must’ve looked confused, because he added: “The history essay I paid you to write a few weeks ago.”

Flash Thompson was right, which was extremely annoying. But the fact that you completely forgot about this assignment was even worse. You never failed to submit your work to your so-called clients at least a day before the assignment was due. And Flash, for what it was worth, always paid her good money. Not being cheap was one of his few redeeming qualities. 

“Remind me again when you have to turn that in?”

“Tomorrow!”

And just like that, it had become hard to breathe yet once again. Your heart was beating as fast as your mind tried to remember and organize everything you had to that day — and you panicked when you realized you had a couple other assignments from other clients, as well as your own essay. How was that possible? What was wrong with you?

“Flash, I’m sorry, I completely forgot”, you don’t know how the words came out of you, talking felt really difficult all of the sudden.

“You what?!”, Flash asked in a volume above his normal one. Seeing you shriek because of it, he grabbed your arm once again, this time to bring you closer to him. “If I don’t submit that, I’m gonna fail and if I fail, I won’t be able to have my birthday party in a yacht!”, he whispered.

“Is there any problem?”, a third voice spoke behind you. 

Miguel. He had his arms crossed and gave Flash a look you had never seen before, not even when he fought with Harry at that party. His stern expression was heightened by his sharp features. You would be scared if you didn’t know him. Like Flash was.

“No, man, we’re talking about an assignment, right?”, Flash said, looking at you. 

Miguel did the same. You nodded. His face softened for a bit, his eyes showing concern, then he looked back at Flash and all the sternness came back. It was all too much, you couldn’t handle it anymore, it was too hot, there was no air and you were pretty sure the room spinned for a moment.

“Anyway, we have to go”, Miguel’s delivery was the coldest possible. Taking your hand in his, he said: “We are going to be late for class”. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, man. Hey, y/n, can you send me that article you mentioned by the end of the day?”

Again, you just nodded. 

Class had already started. Mrs. White was writing something on the board and gave you a wink when she saw you and Miguel holding hands. All of your classmates were already there and, just your luck, the only available seats were the two in the back, one next to the other.

You could feel Miguel’s eyes on you as you made your way to the seat, but you didn’t have it in you to look at him back, your anxiety was reaching a breaking point. As you sat, your head also throbbed a bit, a headache was coming. It can always get worse, you thought. 

“Hi”, Miguel whispered in your ear. “Are you okay?”

All you could do was nod, slightly turning to have a look at him. His brown eyes analyzed your face, as if he was searching for something. You were paralyzed.

“What did Flash do to make you so upset?”, his hand suddenly in your face, his thumb making circles on your cheek. 

“Nothing, we just discussed an assignment.” 

Miguel still had no idea about your side hustle and you intended to keep it that way. His eyes analyzed you again, his thumb still caressing your cheek, like he was trying to decide if he believed you or not. 

“I missed you at lunch”, he said so softly you almost cried. “Where did you go?”

“I had to finish my chemistry homework”, you said. 

“Oh yeah, sometimes I forget how much of a nerd you are”, Miguel looked at you, clearly expecting a laugh you just couldn’t give him. The room was spinning again and you struggled to focus on Miguel. He was saying something about ice cream.

It’s just 15 minutes from here, Peter said it’s great and I looked online, they have lactose free options, so you are safe. I was wondering if you would like to there with me? Maybe after class? 

Yes. Yes, of course you wanted to. You just had to keep your eyes opened and hold your self because you were slipping from the chair...

Baby, what’s going on? What are you…

You were swallowed by darkness. 

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<< chapter 11

all chapters

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a very good idea playlist

[songlyricmemes]

OG MCR lyrics ask memes

Feel free to mix and match, edit and adjust. These are just here to get something started whether that’s an IC dialogue ask, plot idea, or drabble.

Do you remember that day, when we met?

You told me this gets harder, well, it did

Promise me that when I'm gone, you'll kill my enemies

I'm taking back the life you stole

And in the end, we'll fall apart just like the leaves changing colors!

What's the worst that I can say?

Things are better if I stay

So long and goodnight

Sister, I'm not much a poet, but a criminal

And you never had a chance

Love it, or leave it, you can't understand

A pretty face, but you do so carry on

I wouldn't front the scene if you paid me

I'm just the way that the doctor made me

What's life like, bleeding on the floor

You'll never make me leave

Give me all your poison

Give me all your pills

Give me all your hopeless hearts

Make me ill

You're running after something that you'll never kill

If this is what you want…

Fire at will

Preach all you want, but who's gonna save me?

I keep a gun on the book you gave me

I f you wanted honesty that's all you had to say

I never want to let you down

The photographs your boyfriend took..

Remember when you broke your foot

I'm not okay, I'm not okay

I'm not okay…

You wear me out

What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?

I've told you time and time again…

I held you close as we both shook

For the last time, take a good hard look

Forget about the dirty looks

But you really need to listen to me

Because I'm telling you the truth

I mean this, I'm okay! Trust me

Come with your arms raised high

T hey're never gonna get me

Like a bullet through a flock of doves

To wage this war against your faith in me

Your life will never be the same

We're just two men as God had made us

Too much, too late

Or just not enough of this

Pain in my heart for your dying wish

I'll kiss your lips again

But nobody cares if you're losing yourself

Am I losing myself?

I miss my mom

Nobody knows all the trouble I've seen

What they ask of you will make you want to say, "So long"

Well, I don't remember

Why remember you?

Do you have the keys to the hotel?

Life is but a dream for the dead

And well, I, I won't go down by myself but I'll go down with my friends

I never said I'd lie and wait forever

If I died, we'd be together

I can't always just forget her

At the end of the world or the last thing I see

You are never coming home

Never coming home

Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me

Ever get the feeling that you're never all alone?

And I remember now

At the top of my lungs in my arms, she dies

All the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

All the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

Crash the cemetery gates

In the dress your husband hates

Way down, mark the grave

Where the search lights find us

Drinking by the mausoleum door

They found you on the bathroom floor

I miss you

I won't stop dying

I won't stop lying

If you want, I'll keep on crying

Did you get what you deserve?

Is this what you always want me for?

Stay out of the light

The photograph that I gave you

You can say a prayer if you need to

Just get in line and I'll grieve you

Can I meet you, alone

Another night and I'll see you

Another knife in my hands

A stain that never comes off the sheets

Clean me off

I'm so dirty babe

The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes

I keep a book of the names

Only go so far 'til you bury them

So deep and down we go

Touched by angels, though I fall out of grace

I did it all so maybe I'd live this every day

It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame

And we'll all dance alone to the tune of your death

We'll love again, we'll laugh again

It's better off this way

And never again…never again

They gave us two shots to the back of the head

We're all dead now

So much better off this way

I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed

If you were here, I'd never have a fear

So go on live your life

But I miss you more than I did yesterday

Well I'm a total wreck…almost every day

Don't I look pretty walking down the street in the best damn dress I own?

You're so far away

So c'mon show me how

'Cause I mean this more than words can ever say

We are, made from the sharpest things you'd say

We are young and we don't care

We never wanted it to be this way

For all our lives

Do you care at all?

[creations-of-the-dreamlight]

I’ve been slowly writing an origin fic for one of my Harry Potter Rewrite Ocs I made. It’s a very different writing style than I’ve ever done- I was write from the perspective of the ocs thoughts. Because of that it kind of doesn’t make sense. Here is a little key of what all the colors and shtuff means

Regular text - Cherubs thoughts

“white italics in quotes” - Cherub speaking

“Regular text” - Inner Voice 1/The Nobody

“R e g u l a r t e x t” - inner voice 2/The Nobody

“Orange text” - inner voice 3/The Nobody

Bold + italics - future vision

Indented - reading in-story text.

—

“Blue text” - Tim

“Purple text” - Tim’s wife

“Green text” - Draco

“Red text” - Harry

The wind is bitting my skin. Cold. Cold. Cold. I can’t stop that.

“Should I put my eyes on?” The Nobody said.

“No- it’s to obvious.”

“ w h y d i d S H E g i v e m e t h e g u n “

I don’t know.

…

Maybe I should-

“NO” “Stop” “ D O N T D I S O B E Y ” “You can’t read it yet.”

I know but- somethings wrong. I don’t think she’s coming back.

“She has too.”

There’s a wall. there’s a wall. another wall. The only way out is the street.

“Put my eyes on”

“No, it’s too obvious.”

“Stay vigilant”

There’s minimal people. 10 in range. 8 now. Passing shops are good cover. 9. Several cars passing. Full of wizards. Too many muggles to do anything. I see an alley. Going-

“Echo?” Small elderly man, approx. 4-6 feet away. Strange hat, Asian, thin hair, blue shirt, brown pants, yellow socks, black shoes. Nonhazard. Ignore him.

“Echo, my child!” Look again. Eye contact. Is it me?

“Dear it’s freezing,”

“ G O N N A G E T Y O U “ He’s Approaching.

“Hold Fire. He’s harmless, avoid confrontation.”

“Please, come inside and get some food. It’s been years since I got to feed you my special miso”

“Food?”

“ t r a p “

“We need food. Wait and stay vigilant…”

He’s taking his jacket off his shoulders.

“T O U C H” he’s bringing it to me.

“You’ll freeze out here love,” it’s on my shoulders. Why is it on my shoulders? He is waving me inside… for food?

“For food” “For food” “T R A P”

“Follow carefully.”

—-

Its warm. Dim lights. Empty. Noises in the back- clattering, metallic.

“ T H E Y R E G O N N A H U R T Y O U “

“Shut up and watch.”

He’s pointing at the bar. “Take a seat, let me get you something to eat.”

Sit down. He’s going behind the bar. More noises- steam, smells. Smells good.

“Is he really cooking for me?”

“Be on guard”

Hot bowl- coming towards me. “It’s just a quick dish. It may not be the best, but you look like you just need food.”

He’s turning around, he’s walking away…

“Eat! Quick!” “ n o m o r e f o o d “ “don’t let him see you”

“Is there anything you want specifically? I can- Echo you must have been hungry! I’ve never seen you eat that quickly. How about this? I will pack up some noodles and broth for you, and some miso of course, and then you have food when you need it. Does that sound good?”

What do I do? Can I speak?

“ N O ” “It’s too risky” “what if I don’t get another chance? Take it.” “I want miso”

I nodded. I think he got it.

“ o h n o “ “I can’t watch”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

More noises. More smells. Stronger, fishy. Do we have room in our bag to hold these? Maybe I can-

“R U N. A T T A CK.” “Loud noise, ready your weapons”

“It’s a door. It’s just a door.”

It’s just a door.

… can I read just the front part again?

“Fine,” “fine,” “f i n e”

Cherub’s instructions: pack your emergency bag. Meet me at Drop Spot #454. Complete mission. Once finished, you will take another bag I hand you and my gun. Once retrieved, go to the Malfoy residence. Hand him this letter and make sure he reads it. You take orders from him until further instructed. He will tell you when you can read this book. You may deviate from this mission- but you must make it to the Malfoy residence with haste. Do not get caught by enemy forces. Kill on sight if you are. Use my gun only in emergencies.

—-

“Alrighty, my Echo,” He’s back. There’s 4 containers. They are all hot. Two are noodles, three are liquid.

“B a c k u p. T o o h o t. W i l l h u r t.”

“He’s just an old food guy. He’s not a threat. If he was he would have hurt us by now. We would have already killed him before he could. He’s a nonhazard- take the food.”

Don’t let him see your bag- angle it just like that. Quickly- make space for the food.

“Darling- why are you cooking? We closed an hour ago,” new voice in back. Feminine, elderly, Asian accent, unidentified. She’s with the old man?

“My love! Echo is back!”

She sounds disappointed. She’s getting closer. “Cho- Echo left in the war, remember? She gave herself to protect us from Death Eaters. I know you still see her, but-“ she steps from behind the door. Screaming. Screaming

“TIM! WHY IS THERE A GIRL WITH A GUN IN OUR STORE?!?”

“W A N D. K I L L” “she’s got magic! Get out of here!” “Leave!”

But the food

“You won’t get away- Somnum Impetum!”

“G O!” “Go!” “Go!”

Dodge the spell. Grab all the containers. Ow. Ow. They burn. Doesn’t matter. Just run.

“Echo! Come back-“ “Stay away from my husband, you psycho!”

—-

Do we really go inside? How does he know I’m not a threat.

“She sent you here for a reason. He must know something.”

Should I put my eyes on?

“I don’t know… if he sees them on he’ll think I’m hostile,”

“W e A R E h o s t i l e”

“Just for a second- scope out the inside,”

Put my eyes on….

Theres 4 people inside. Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, Albus Potter, Rose Weasley. Do not engage. The kids are sitting in the living room, the parents are in the kitchen. The kids are playing a board game- Rose is going to win. She is going to boast about it. Harry is sitting at the bar. He has a glass of wine. Draco is walking around the counter. He is going to pour them both more wine. Approx 3 minutes the kids go into their rooms. Approx 20 minutes, Harry leaves.

“Do I do it now? The more people that see me, the less of a threat I am.”

“T h e y d o n t k n o w t h a t. T h e y w i l l G E T U S.”

“Calm down. Wait the three minutes for the kids to go in, then do it.

… ok. They are gone. I’m going in. I’m knocking on the door. I hear their footsteps. He’s unlocking the door…

“We don’t take solicitors. Come back another time.” He didn’t even look at me. I guess I’ll try again.

“Did you not- Merlin! What the- Potter, get over here.”

“W A N D. K I L L. K I L L H I M. O N L Y W A Y.”

“He’s got his wand drawn. Don’t flinch. One arm up, hold the letter out. Stay calm, Cherub. Just do as mother said.”

Ok. Ok. He took the letter. I’ll take a step back. Space is safe, right? Why does his face look like that? Now Harry Potter is looking at me. Eyes down, stay calm.

“Umm… come in, I guess.”

“Your letting her in? Let me remind you, as a you seem to have forgotten: She SHOT my niece, and tried to kill ALL of our kids.”

“She’s not going to hurt us,”

“How do you know!?! What, did you give you her instruction manual?”

“Yes, actually. Sera said she doesn’t disobey orders- and this says she’s taking orders from me.”

“Prove it,”

He’s looking at me.

“Cherub. Leave all your possessions on the floor, and sit on this stool.”

“Don’t drop the soup. Set it down carefully.” “that’s it? That better not be the only assignment he gives us.”

“See? She’s harmless unless I tell her otherwise.”

He’s staring at me. He’s angry. “I’m not letting our kids near her.”

“Go, sit with them. Let me talk to her.”

“And leave you with her alone? Are you insane? She’s a murderer.”

“She is a child. One programmed to do only as I say right now. I can handle it.”

He’s walking away. He’s in the room. Draco is looking at you. Why does his face look like that?”

“Can you tell me what happened last you saw Seraphim?”

How much do I tell him? If he’s my handler, then I should tell him everything. But what about Mother?

“Mother took me to one of the drop spots. We took 36 targets- 16 wizard, 20 muggle. She gave me a bag, her gun, this book, and this letter. My instructions were to come here, give you the letter, and work for you until further notice. She did not say ‘til when. She told me not to read the book until you said so. End report.”

He’s giving us another weird look. What did I do wrong? Did I not say something right?

“May I read the book first?”

Did he just ask me? Ummmm…

“I don’t give orders.”

“Right. Yes. Sorry- sorry? Never mind.”

He’s reading the book. He’s getting up. He’s taking a sip of wine. A drink. A chug. He’s drinking from the bottle now. He sighed- hand on the forehead. That’s not good body language. He set the book down.

“I need to talk to my kids and Harry. You can read the book until I’m back. Do not, under any circumstances, get near my kids without me watching you. If they come near you, then don’t move a muscle. Understood.”

“Yes, sir.” And he’s gone. Are the kids near me? No, quickly get the book before you can’t move.

“I m s c a r e d” “it’s going to be bad” “don’t think like that. You don’t know.”

“I d o” “I do” I do

For Draco: I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. They took my mind from me- but that’s not an excuse for what I’ve done. Nothing will excuse or forgive what I’ve done to her. I want I need her to be safe. Cherub can’t live like this. She can’t end like me. She can’t suffer like this her whole life for these horrible people doing awful things. She knows nothing but aim, fire, and hide the body. What kind of life is that? I am beyond the point of asking you for help- I tried to kill you and your loved ones, and we almost did if we hadn’t messed up. I am beyond your favor- but she isn’t. She is innocent. She won’t do anything if it’s not an order from me. She will hardly even breath if I haven’t given her permission. All I want is to leave, to end this madness, and disappear so that I never cause any pain again. You have my word that all I want now is to make things right. We need you to do it. Cherub is instructed to take order from you- she can’t do anything anymore unless you approved it. And she won’t even try. I don’t know how else I can save her. If you are reading this, then you are all she has left. I need you to save Cherub. Please, please, don’t turn her away. She has goodness and love in her heart- but I never let her see that, and she knows nothing else. She has nothing else. If she goes back they will kill her, or worse. I am begging you, Draco, save my daughter.

To Cherub, my only child: I am so sorry. This agony you’ve lived is nothing close to a life. I’ve turned you into a machine. Well oiled, maybe, but a tool for death and destruction is bad no matter how pristine it may be. You are not a machine; You are a person. You have thoughts and feelings, needs and wants, kindness and joy in you. Whether you know it or not. You are human. And I never told you that. I’ve hurt you. I’ve destroyed you. Nothing can ever fix that. And If I’m any indicator, I know you will never be repaired from all the damage I’ve done. I want to say it’s not my fault. Your father took my memories- he rewired my brain. Just like you, I hardly had choice. But I am your mother. It was my purpose to protect you and make sure you never saw pain and darkness like that. I failed you to the highest degree a person can fail. For that, alone, I am unforgivable. You should not try to find me, you should not miss me, you should not care for me or anything you’ve known before, and you should not love me- you should resent everything you’ve known before the moment I sent you off, including me. These are not orders. I told you Draco would give you orders- I lied. You do not take orders from anyone, anymore. You are your own person. From here on out Cherub is gone. You will never have to be a weapon for me or anyone else. What you choose to use your skills for are entirely up to you. No one will ever make your decision for you. Not ever again. The rest of this book is a survival guide: all my knowledge is in this book, including how to get rid of your current identity, how to make a new identity, and how to live under this nee identity. You will never truly escape them if they know who you are. As my last order to you: become a new person. Cherub is gone, leave her with me and leave us behind. Whoever you choose to be is up to you now- but make sure it’s not Cherub. I don’t want them to find you. And I want you to have a version of yourself that no one except for you owns. I have ensured you will always have a safe home with Draco, you can always come back to him. Please, for the you that never got to me, and for me who will always be trapped, go be happy. Go be the child I wanted you to become. You are free. You deserve it.

“Alright. The kids are going to stay at Ha- somewhere else, for the night. I’m going to set up the guest bedroom for you. Tomorrow we will work on… everything. We will work on everything tomorrow. Tonight, just rest. I am going to move your things into the guest bedroom. And I will warm up your soup? Whatever that is, I’ll make it edible again.”

We don’t take orders anymore. Would listening to him be an order? But if I don’t that’s still taking an order.

“Not taking orders IS an order? What the fuck is that supposed to mean!!?! Do I just stand? What do I do??”

“G O N E!! G O N E!! S H E L E F T Y O U!! I K N E W I T!! I M G O I N G T O D I E!!”

“This has never happened before? What she mean save me? What is there to save? Did I not do good? Did I fail? What did we do wrong?”

“I WANT TO SHOWER”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?? DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST SCREAM THAT!!?”

“Oh gods we’re gonna die we’re die so dead”

“T H E Y W I L L D O W O R S E. T H E Y W I L L M A K E U S P A Y. W E W I L L L I V E I N A G O N Y. Y O U H A V E D O O M E D U S.”

Mother said I don’t take orders. Mother said I have thoughts and feelings, love and kindness and joy. Mother says I have needs and wants. And I want a shower.

“He’s going to kill us. Hes going to kill us because YOU were greedy! He’s going to drown us until we make up for screaming. He’s going to-“

“Have you ever had a bubble bath?”

“I’ve never had a bath,”

“Well then, I think you’ll quite enjoy it. Let me get the water running.”

Mom said I am free. We. Are. Free.

[maguro13-2]

The Dark Beginnings RETOLD ~ Origins of the Ink Chapter 0 Pt.6 ~

*At Angel Island/Mystic Ruins*

[Unknown From M.E Ver.1 by Kenichi Tokoi & Marlon Saunders]

Knuckles : Once again, After stopping the Space Colony ARK from falling into earth, And...It's been around 5 years since SEGA was beaten by sony with their incredible and newest to this generation, the playstation of course. But this still the Dreamcast Era, and now our games like Sonic Adventure has retracing the incident on the gamecube as Sonic DX. Speaking of Consoles, I haven't seen Eggman's face around 8 years since I met the boys back in the day.

*Looks at a photo of him and the Chaotix*

Knuckles : Just look at them, how I remember the old days that I finally got my own game, it was the only game to have a continuity when me and the boys were infiltrating some kind area where Eggman creates a park of his own called Newtrogic High? Newtrogic High...That's the name of that place that he built on Isolated Island. Although, 5 years later, now that Chaos rejuvenated with Tikal and the Space Colony ARK is in place, except for the moon which mysteriously rebuild by some kind of power. At least, nobody would notice that the Chaos Emeralds are still in place.

*QUACK*

*notices that the Chaos Emeralds are missing from the shrine*

Knuckles : Wh...Where the heck are the Chaos Emeralds!? Well at least the Master Emerald is safe and sound. What's this note?

*Read the note and looks at it*

"Dear Knucklehead, I have taken the Chaos Emeralds and placed them in the special stages within all seven areas and locking them away with a Special Stage Key. But if you want to retrieve the Seven Chaos Emeralds, you must special stages keys for me! See if you can outsmart that, Knuckles! Signed by yours truly, Doctor Ivo. Robotnik"

*Knuckles frown*

*RUMBLING+Steam whistling*

Knuckles: *looks up at the sky angrily* EGGMAAAAAAN!!!

*Eggman is echoed*

*flock of birds flying*

*Scene changes to Tails' Workshop*

[Satellite by Heigo Tani/Wall5 Project]

Tails : Almost done. A little more screws to the top, and...perfect.

Knuckles : D'ohhh! I can't believe I have to get those emeralds back from the special stages If I ever see Eggman's face again.

"KNUCKLES THE ECHIDNA...MASTER EMERALD GUARDIAN!"

*finishes fixing the Tornado III*

Tails : Hey, Knuckles, Long time no see.

Knuckles : Hey, Tails! How's the Tornado III doing?

Tails : *slides out from under* It's fine, Knuckles. Just needs a proper tuning that's all. It has been only two years since we stopped the Space Colony ARK from falling. Sonic's busy of finding Eggman is pretty hard, things at San Francisco had been really boastful since the man of the year incident back in 97.

Knuckles : Do you have any idea where Eggman is?

Tails : No we have not. He hasn't been shown or seen anyone but himself, but I think that announcement he made could be very suspicious. We might get sonic on the line and get a look of this announcement.

"MILES TAILS PROWER... SONIC'S LONG TIME SIDEKICK"

Tails : Although the Dreamcast Era is still living, but didn't we heard from something? Since we're in this new show we call it Sonic X, it's gonna be mainstream on the world, and it's going contracted...to 4Kids?

Knuckles : Oh really? Did you remember anything back in 1995?

Tails : Oh that? I had to chase some hooligans that were on the rails.

*flashback to Tails Sky Patrol*

Tails : I was chasing a bunch of bad guys in mine carts back in my days.

*changes to Tails Adventure*

Tails : And then in my other days, I fight off against ducks or birds that were invading the island.

*flashback ends*

Tails : Those were the good old days, but now, those days have been changed since we defeated the Doll. Have you heard the recent news, it appears that players or fans started to bring Character Chao on the Gamecube, Adventure 1 & 2 is handing out the Knuckles Chao and Amy Chao from the promotional demo discs at events. Tiny Chao Garden is where three character-based chao were downloaded from Tiny Chao Garden from the dreamcast and of course the new Sonic Advance games.

Knuckles : But still...Didn't you mentioned about the one with two tails?

Tails : Two tailed what?

Knuckles : You know a chao with two tails.

Tails : Hold up, you mean...the Tails Chao?

*thinking cloud shows the Tails Chao*

Tails : Oh...That Chao. I won't mention it.

Knuckles : Yeah, I wonder how did it manage to come so real? How did the Tail Chao became so famous?

Tails : Well...It only happened back in 2002...

*Flashback to 2002*

Tails : I was using my GBA to get a chao from that RPG game that Yuji Naka made called Phantasy Star Online?

Knuckles : Ph-Ph-Phantasy Star?

Tails : You don't remember that name, Knuckles? Phantasy Star was the name of that RPG franchise that Yuji Naka before the start of our debut. They were known to be one of the company's best franchises from all of Japan that ever existed in the industry, but following a six year gap...they disappeared without a sudden traced until they started to come back with online called Phantasy Star Online, also known as PSO. It has been one of the fascinating games ever to exist with online features and proclaims to be Sonic Team's very first MMMORPG after Burning Rangers.

Knuckles : Oh what didn't I think of that? Seems fair to me, We had an collaboration with those guys 3 years ago.

*flashback ends*

Knuckles : It was good times, man. Good times.

Tails : Hey, knuckles. Do you mind finding the special stage keys that scattered throughout the world?

Knuckles : Well, no. But they are everywhere...Hmm? Still regarding if those ghosts were out to lurk out at night in the pyramid. They thought we haven't heard recent news from Shadow's death?

Tails : Shadow? But he died in 2001 right before Nine eleven happens. The Mashimaverse would not be infected with a holiday like that despite by humanity's arrogance, shadow did have a hatred with humans for their accusations after G.U.N was being jeered by the public for the actions they caused and for putting a price on Sonic's head.

Knuckles : Maybe it was the secretary of defense that is responsible for the outcome.

Tails : Could be, however...the secretary defense of the United Federation was arrested for abusing G.U.N's power and making a mess at San Francisco, in early retirement. It was his "acting alone" thing that he made G.U.N mistaken for Sonic instead of Shadow, which he was put a price on their heads and including us as well.

Knuckles : So what happened to the United Federation's Secretary of Defense?

Tails : Well, after Adventure 2, the secretary was kidnapped by Eggman's robots and this...this other Metal Sonic in a cloak wielding a scythe executed him by taking away his soul. Same goes to the warden of Prison Island in which was executed...by hanging to death. Oh wait a sec...The warden's dead after blew up Prison Island which was caused by Eggman himself. The other Metal Sonic knew that the island was a death trap orchestrated by him to rid of Sonic once and for all. Despite our meddling ways, we found out that the other Metal Sonic in a cloak isn't someone that you think of.

Knuckles : Kidnapped and executed? Who was punishing the humans and mobians for various crimes against others.

Tails : It was the Grim Reaper of Mobius, a mysterious figure in cloak wielding a powerful magic scythe. He is the Death God and observer to Planet Mobius that has kept an eye on this planet throughout time and space before Sonic's time. He was the master of the supernatural forces, he protected this planet from the deadly forces caused by the emeralds powers and he was granted a title as the God of Death to our world. But in any rate, he is know for forgiving people with respect dignity, but others who disrespect gets shunned and with eternal damnation, those that punished the damned were called sinners, sinners are those who committed their wrongdoings.

[Legends of Babylon by Fumie Kumatani]

Tails : Back before Angel Island was created, Grim was the first mobian to become their only God of Death worshiped by those who fulfills his destiny to bring justice to the sinners that committed their crimes against others. He made a friendly contact with the many tribes that respected and worshiped his powers to bring death to others that tried to destroy his destiny, but he was no match for them with the powers of his scythe. As by day and night, he used his incredible scythe to bring those to death and giving them divine judgement on the sinners and continues on protecting this planet from the clutches of the Ancients' old enemy, The End itself. That's what brought the Chaos Emeralds to Mobius in the first place. Grim himself prevent the Emeralds of destroying our with the positive and negative energy from the hearts and tasked a young angel from the heavens to place them in the dimension that are called the Special Stages.

Knuckles : So special Stages that we entered were dimensions only for to those that can take the challenge. It was the Grim reaper's test of whoever has positive or negative energy to hold the powers Emeralds in their hand.

Tails : Right, So we have no time to loose, But I wonder if Shadow was still dead or alive? We can meet up with Sonic true that!

*scene changes*

[We can plays]

*Sonic is shown running through the Desert*

*Tails and Knuckles are shown on the Tornado III*

Sonic : Yo Tails! Long time no see!

*SONIC THE HEDGEHOG...WORLD RENOWNED HERO"

Tails : Do you have to say that every time, Sonic?

Sonic : It's my catchphrase, we always say that.

Tails : anyways, here sonic, check this out. It's the Announcement that Eggman made.

Sonic : Annoucement?

Dr. Eggman : Hello, Sonic Heroes! I've developed the ultimate weapon that will be my latest achievement. In three days, I will conquer the world! Unfortunately, Since I'm not at my base, I'll handle my robots to do the extra hard work for me! Think you can stop me? *laughs evilly*

Sonic : Hmm. Sounds like an invitation, who would've thought that Eggman hasn't been shown since he made this annoucement.

Tails : So what are we gonna do, Sonic? This announcement that he made sounds like an invitation party to us.

Knuckles : Parties, you say? We got this one, we can take care of it.

Sonic : Haven't missed this one, time to crack that Eggman wide open! Yeah! Let's party!

*Tails and Knuckles hops off the Tornado and runs after Sonic*

Knuckles : Uhh, Tails, since we got off to find Eggman, who's flying the Tornado?

Tails : I just put it on Autopilot so it won't crash into anything.

Knuckles : Wait, what?

Tails : Yeah, I thought of that.

*Meanwhile at Eggman's Base*

Shadow : *in mind* Where am I? Who am I? I can't remember anything? Did I die in space? Where did I my death go? Who is this saving me?

Grim : Gladly that you are still alive after two moons ago. That sacrifice you made had to make you run out of rings so I brought you with my men.

Shadow : *in mind* Y...Your men? Who...who are you? Why did saved me from Death, who are you? What are you?

[Echo Night - Beyond OST : Track 8]

Grim : You'd still look down after being in a state of unconsciousness, so despite all of my efforts to keep everyone some certain deaths, I had no choice but to save you into losing all of your memories. That's why you died in the first place.

Shadow : *In mind* You mean...I am alive? Doctor! Rouge! HELP ME! HELP ME GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

*Shadow is shown sleeping inside a pod*

Shadow : *In mind* OH GOD! SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE!

*Omega awakens*

*Scene goes pitch black*

Omega : MUST DESTROY ALL EGGMAN ROBOTS.

*cues Martin Mystery Title Card*

Announcer : RETURN OF THE ULTIMATE LIFE FORM!

~ Event 5 : A Grim Fated Return ~

[casspurrjoybell-19]

Does it Matter? - Chapter 42 - Part 2

*Warning: Adult Content*   

Bug slept most of the day, only waking up briefly to eat and drink.

It wasn't until evening, when they stopped for the night at another inn, that he woke up properly. 

There were so many people and Bug didn't know his place in any of this.

For a while it was at a table next to Dara, head down and teeth gnawing at his lip but then Dara asked if he would be okay on his own and Bug said yes and Dara went upstairs with Maric and he was fine, really.

Nobody was bothering him.

Nobody was acknowledging him at all.

Brayan, the only other person who he trusted, had gone upstairs before Dara had and now Bug was left alone with a slowly thinning group of Maric's men. 

"Oh, um, excuse me, Sir," Bug said to their doctor, Mathers, before he could go up to bed as well.

"Do you know which room I'm supposed to be in?" 

"Uhh..." Mathers said, his gaze leaping to the other men in search of someone who knew the answer to that question. 

"Hudson asked Maric if Dara would need his own room tonight and Maric said no," one of the other men supplied.

"That's all I know. I'm not sure this one even crossed their minds." 

"Maybe I could ask Brayan about it, sir?" Bug suggested. 

Mathers frowned.

"I don't know if we need to bother him about this." 

"He might not mind so much," the other man suggested. Mathers shrugged.

"Well if you want to go and check with him..." 

Bug nodded enthusiastically. 

"Upstairs, second door from the far end but if he's annoyed, this was all your idea." 

"I'll take responsibility. Thank you." 

Bug's body felt hot and his heart was beating fast as he headed up the stairs and down the hall.

He was ready to commit to this. 

Bug knocked on the door and a few moments later Brayan opened it.

He wasn't wearing a shirt.

Brayan frowned at him. 

"Um. I wasn't sure where I was supposed to be tonight, Sir." 

"Hudson was responsible for booking rooms and distributing keys. He didn't give you a room number?" 

Bug shook his head.

"Apparently he didn't book one for Dara but I don't know what that means for me." 

Brayan sighed.

"Unbelievable. Let me go and see if there's an open room we can book for you, though I doubt it at this hour. We might need to rearrange some people. Did he think we could just chuck you in with a group of men?" 

"Or, um. Maybe I could stay with you?" 

"I'm the Captain of the Prince's Guard, Bug," Brayan said.

"That typically comes with the privilege of having a room to myself." 

"I know but I mean... Um..."

Bug reached a hand out and hooked his thumb under the band of Brayan's pants.

He looked up at Brayan from beneath his eyelashes.

"Maybe I could stay with you tonight?" 

For a long moment, Brayan just watched Bug.

It was impossible to tell if he was angry or interested or something else entirely.

Finally Brayan took two steps backwards, guiding Bug into the room and shutting the door behind them.

He looked down at Bug's hand, still hooked into the waistband of his pants.

"Why are you doing this? What exactly do you want out of this?" 

"Is it really surprising that someone would want to have sex with you, Sir? You're quite handsome..." 

"I find it hard to believe you would want to have sex with me. It makes no sense. This could so easily go badly for you that it's simply not worth taking that risk if all you hope to get out of it is some sex and a place to sleep for the night." 

Bug shifted his thumb ever so slightly against Brayan's bare skin. Brayan still hadn't pushed him away yet...

"What do you think I really want?" 

Brayan was silent for a long moment as he thought the question over.

"Protection, probably. You believe if you ingratiate yourself with someone who has power within this group, you'll be safer and receive better treatment in general." 

Bug took half a step closer and moved his hand to the front of Brayan's pants, toying with the top button.

"How do I prove to you that that isn't the case?" 

Brayan watched Bug's fingers.

His expression was flat and unreadable but his interest was becoming visible in other ways.

"Maybe I don't care if it is." 

"Hmm."

Bug flicked open the first button on Brayan's pants and then when he showed no signs of objection the second and third.

His cock bulged out, restrained by the thin shorts he wore underneath his pants. 

Brayan took hold of Bug's wrist and pressed his hand down over his cock, guiding Bug to stroke it.

Bug complied.

Brayan was still trying to maintain an appearance of indifference but the cracks were beginning to show.

His breathing had noticeably sped up and his hand explored the shape of Bug's unfortunately boney ass. 

Brayan disengaged for a moment to kick his pants off, then returned to Bug and began unbuttoning his.

"This is your last chance. If you regret initiating this, tell me now." 

Bug shook his head.

The brush of Brayan's fingers against his cock through his pants made him dizzy.

He wasn't about to put a stop to this. 

Brayan lifted Bug up and carried him over to the bed, depositing him down onto it.

He tugged Bug's pants off entirely and threw them to the side.

He straddled Bug's hips and ground down against him, his fingers fumbling open the buttons on Bug's shirt.

He pushed it open and stared down at Bug's malnourished body. 

One of Bug's hands tangled in his necklace.

He felt suddenly self conscious.

Brayan was fit and strong and healthy and Bug was... this.

He used to be attractive but now he wasn't so sure. 

"What I said a moment ago..." Brayan said as he ran a hand down Bug's chest, feeling the bumps of his ribcage.

"About it being your last chance to to call a stop to things. I didn't mean that. I'm not a stupid animal. I'm not Fraccus. I'm not sure if I'm a good person but I know I'm a sensible one. I'm not going to rape you." 

"I know," Bug whispered. 

"No, you don't," Brayan said as he started grinding down against Bug again.

"You're too trusting." 

"Hmm. I must have just..."

Bug's breathing hitched.

"Gotten lucky." 

"Shut up," Brayan said as he lifted Bug so that he could pull his shirt off.

"Don't make me start thinking right now." 

[the-firebird69]

We had a lot of homes like this that was just wood frame and they built very well and it's like posting being with Woody infill and extremely sturdy and it stood gale force winds and Kenwood stand tornadoes right now they're not really built that well you can see that this is it no yeah that's right and if you have this part underneath it the other part is a different picture it's in the same place more or less Susie thinks it's the same place and the waters rising but he eats it away and it's on part Rock and that sounds right I miss my sister and I loved her I think she perished and you people are very mean and you're mean to him beyond what I ever saw I never thought you'd be this mean and he's like a baby it has some kind of resilience but he hates you a lot please keep stuffing it to him you don't care what happens to you if there's two assholes and they're very wrong you don't treat people like people you need to get out of there you came here with the stupid assumption you could keep his house key and you're stupid and he stopped you from killing Stan and you have the shovel thing out back I mean you're a f****** moron Maxwell having you do it and you're going to die you're going to die imitating my son you did so many damn times you're such a fool you look at four year old child you're so goddamn dumb your IQ is very low Trump you should never have been close to being president I can't believe how stupid you are and people want you back as a president some do you're a moron you belong in a mental hospital too he says you're critically ill you're calling to him and he cannot stand you I can't believe he doesn't rip you apart I've seen him thrash people so easily throws them across the room this guy was bothering him and he said you're going to try and hurt me I'm going to hurt you very badly pick them up and threw him across the room hit the wall and knocked him out and they said he had to leave the party he's saying what for and he was at Jimmy John's house and I heard about it and he left a little came back and they were gone and he's saying that what do you want to be next and they were mad and trying to act tough and they said no he said good that guy deserved it and they took him away and they took him to jail hey is there a bunch of lazy bums and really they go way too far now and we know why it happens so we're in a pressure cooker and this is stupid what we're doing the solutions but nobody wants to do it we're going to get out of this we got to stop doing it and you people have to leave the apartment you're not supposed to be there I can't believe you're still there after you've taken so much loss and he says well the stashes have to go and their ships and then they leave for Titan and then they'll be dead and that's what's going to happen I guess

Camilla you find out you didn't really do the surgeries and we know who it was and it wasn't someone of ours in our group of circus people is such an idiot God damn it you're stupid it says don't say it the VW idea and don't say it he's a crap ass bastard if it's my idea my son says he can't do it

[ochrebeatle]

I am back.

I am back in business. The sentence doesn't end with partner, anymore.

I am reaffirming to myself and to the universe, that I am back. Back to the business of living. And not like a wuss. But with a spine and spirit, albeit both are terribly broken at the moment. But not beyond repair. We (I and the forces that be, if they exist) will do kintsugi on them. We will guild with gold the iron links of pain. Funny, I remember this from my childhood, more than 35 years ago. And like earlier, I will use you, Tumblr - my corner on the internet. My own, forever, exclusive corner in this world. My one space and place that nobody can take from me. And when I die, it goes with me because nobody knows of its existence. Nothing is more emancipating than this anonymity. It's like saying "f*** you!" to the world! It's like saying I am fine. I can manage alone. I don't need any body. There is extreme hurt inside me. Pain. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Even some resentment against life, maybe against God too. But most of all against myself. Why did I never love myself? Forget enough, I didn't even show a second of compassion or affection towards myself? Was I so bad? I know that's not true.

And now, sometimes, with or without tears streaming down my cheeks...I softly stroke my one arm with the other hand, whispering to it in my mind - I will love you and I will love you so, so, so much that you will feel whole and complete and comforted. And in that very moment, all expectations from others seem to just dissipate - allowing me a renewed sense of power and claim over myself. I remind myself that I am going to value myself so much, so, so much and never go anywhere or to anyone where I am not valued as much as I value myself. My authentic self. And I had better raise the bar really high this time. On hearing this, a part of me laughs sarcastically at myself...Raise the bar higher? From where? When did you ever lift it from the ground? I sigh a deep and heavy sigh. And again, this time gently and with some bit of firmness I say to myself and that other voice mocking me - that I WILL raise it high, I WILL value myself, I WILL love myself with such a vengeance and such dedication that the fractured me will be put back together again. I again sigh. Heavily. And I'm sure it can't be that bad? I have tried hating myself. Why not give myself a chance to love myself? I want all the keys to the power and claim over me in my own hands. I want to snatch away all that power from everyone I have given it to and reclaim my right over it. And I will. I will. I certainly shall.

[lonesilverw0lf]

Just some random bits and bobs that I thought of

Bully while he’s going through his growth arc is in a form of suffering. Maybe he starts off with nobody liking him, and for good reason, but as he saves his classmates more often and just starts being a good person most others of the Party start teasing him and treating him like normal. Think on how Bakugo from MHA(who for some reason is the face and rough personality that I’ve been going with for some reason despite Bakugo not having a shit upbringing) has that kinda asshole personality and yet the members of his squad like to pick on him in a sense. He doesn’t really know how to deal since he’s never really gotten positive feedback ever. Still quite a bit of a rebel heart, especially when the Nobility that tried to axe MC is involved.

Prep is weirdly excited to be roughing it, putting their preparatory, improv, and survival skills to work in a foreign environment. The extra hostility is just a bonus challenge. Also now has a low key rivalry with Mama in supporting and supplying the Party. Is quietly working with a few others in possibly making guns.

Chess Student has a Pokémon esque summoning type ability that they use in combat as a chess type game. Generic, I know, but it fits perfectly. Can’t think of too much else right now.

Teen Mom is limited in her mobility and nobody is going to risk the unborn, so she learns various forms of divination to help. Also learns a handful of other domestic skills to keep herself busy and aid the Party, like sewing, studying the Lore, and the like. Gods help you if you get between her and her chocolate.

CC and Mama both knew each other’s big secret, CC being stupidly rich who helps everyone and Mama’s dark side that she will never show to her friends, before being summoned to Fantasy Land. They both respect the other for it and have a don’t ask don’t tell policy. It’s only after being Summoned that the Party start having suspicions with the duo but can never come up with anything concrete. Suspicions, the occasional odd statement, and circumstantial evidence is all they can gather. Otherwise they just get weird looks from how scarily capable they are at their jobs.

Influencer discovers her gift by accident sorta early on. They visit some port where everyone is gossiping about MC and how he was ‘rightly discarded’ due to the Court’s spies spreading the rumors they want. Influencer simply tries to drum up some support for MC and set the record straight, only to almost have a full on riot on her hands. It’s the first time CC takes a direct hand in stopping a problem before it spirals out of control, not that anyone notices due to Influencers discovery. Since then she is always with a buddy to keep an eye on things. She comically cannot hold her liquor, which is another reason she needs a buddy at all times since her first time drinking also accidentally started another almost cult. This time around booze as their ‘patron’. Several deities salivate at the idea of making her one of their priestesses and almost started a divine war over her. She is famous in all the ways that she doesn’t want. Thank god that her gift doesn’t affect the Party. At least not yet…

Prez, walking through a small fortress up to a nervous Influencer: Are you ok?

Influencer, smile too wide and voice to chipper: Yeppers! Totally fine! A little sore from the ropes, but nothing a little rest can’t fix! Hahahaha! How are you?

Prez: Fine, as you can tell. And relieved you’re alright.

Influencer: That’s just fantastic! Totally zippe dee do da dally!

Prez: Influencer, did you start up another Cult?

Influencer, sweating buckets: Yesnt?

Prez: Yesnt? As a question?

Influencer, poking her fingers together: Ah well they were a Cult to begin with, ya know they kidnapped me for a sacrifice in the first place. Yeah?

Prez: But?

Influencer, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes: I may have… redirected their belief system ever so slightly??

CC laughing, Prez nodding begrudgingly: Yesnt.

Football guy, looking around at the cultists near frantically overhauling the place: ‘Redirected’? ‘Slightly’?!

Mama: I’ll go around this place and see how I can reorganize them to suit our goals. *teasingly* Under Influencers good name of course~.

Tomboy: Well, in the end it’s good that you’re alright-?! *gets glomped by Influencer*

Influencer, comically crying: How do you do it Tomboy?! How do you let yourself get kidnapped all the time?! Am I just a big chicken?!

Tomboy, awkwardly patting her back: Well normally it’s mostly planned, not random like you, and I’m usually caught by regular bandits wanting money and not next in line to be sacrificed either. Wait a minute you were gagged when they took you, who took that off?

Goth, casually perusing the Cults cursed artifacts: I’ll give you two guesses, but you’re only going to need one.

Everyone there, sighing: MC.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)