#Cold Storage Racks

[sksteelproduct]

Heavy duty racks are useful when the business management needs tough equipment that can accommodate large amounts of goods and burdensome weight. To cater for maximum load utilization of the racks these are designed to be very strong and durable and are made from materials such as steel meant for bearing maximum load in warehouses factories and other retail outlets.

Consequently, these racks can be arranged in several different ways due to flexibility, ideal for warehousing palletized products, industrial tools, or miscellaneous products in bulk. This enabled them to make the best use of vertical space thus businesses saw a significant improvement in efficiency through improvement in the storage area.

For More blog Visit Us : penposh.com/

[vampfucker666]

room rearranging journey. Unfortunately i started getting fucking sick today. so. last pic is what i will be forced to leave it at for a while. not particularly happy about that !!

[globalautomationltd]

10 Essential Tips To Buy Supermarket Equipment That Help To Start Your Supermarket

Are you a franchisee or manager of a supermarket and do you want to equip your store? If you are setting up your supermarket, important decisions will need to be made. Without a doubt, Supermarkets equipment is the most important element when carrying out an assembly or store opening project.

In the market, you will find several essential items for the enterprise to grow and function properly. But, the main equipment cannot be missing when setting up supermarkets.

In this post, we will talk about the importance of choosing the right supermarket equipment and how it can help make processes more agile, in addition to optimizing results. Furthermore, we will point out the items that cannot be missing for the business to be successful and explain why they are so important for you to achieve the desired success.

Do you want to discover how to acquire quality equipment for your supermarket? Continue reading!

The Importance of Choosing the Right Equipment

It is very important to know how to choose the right equipment to be part of the supermarket, as it can speed up processes and improve results. These establishments are characterized by self-service, that is, people enter and make purchases without needing the help of a salesperson to fulfill their desires. Therefore, it is necessary to have a minimum structure that allows receiving customers and processing payments.

The Main Benefits of Supermarket Equipment

Among the main factors that lead to the success of a business is supermarket equipment. A well-equipped store conveys the security of a structured establishment, as well as favoring other points, such as:

Optimizes time to carry out tasks

Automates internal processes

Allows growth in employee productivity

Optimizes inventory

Accelerates sales and increases sales, therefore and

Builds customer loyalty

Certainly, when a customer enters a well-equipped store, with machinery in perfect condition and clean, there is an immediate feeling of trust. This way, it becomes easier to structure marketing campaigns, strategies, and sales actions to attract even more audiences.

Top 10 Essential Equipment For Your Supermarket

1. Gondolas

Among the supermarket equipment are gondolas, which will have a strong influence when it comes to selling. They must be throughout the store. The main function of the gondola display rack is to display the product in the sales area. In addition to displaying merchandise, gondolas also decorate store spaces and should be strategically located within the store. When thinking about supermarket equipment, the shelves need to be highlighted. Knowing how to organize products on gondola shelves will certainly directly influence your results.

2. Scales

Without a doubt, one of the first pieces of equipment that comes to mind when talking about supermarkets is scales. Scales are necessary for several sectors of the supermarket, such as butchers, produce, and bakeries. And if there is something irregular, in addition to losses, it can lead to problems with inspection. Therefore, this is one of the supermarket equipment that must be chosen carefully.

3. Frozen food refrigerator

These are important items that should be considered in the list of supermarket equipment, as they act directly in the conservation of various foods and drinks. When purchasing this equipment there are two points to pay attention to: energy consumption and how defrosting is carried out.

Always choose equipment with an energy-saving label. As it is a device that will always be on, without the label your costs will be higher. Look for the A seal on the equipment, this shows that it is more economical.

4. Fruit and vegetable display

Fresh fruits and vegetables are key to attracting customers. But how you display them matters just as much! Choose vegetable and fruits display rack that showcase your produce effectively, while also keeping it fresh and inviting.

 

5. Supermarket shelves

Optimizing shelf placement is very important in your store. If you want to tempt your customers with products they wouldn’t have thought of, put essential items toward the back of your supermarket and make some products hard to find. Consumers will then be forced to browse all the supermarket shelves and will be able to buy more than what they came for.

6. Barcode reader

The barcode reader has become essential among supermarket equipment. After all, it makes service more dynamic, helping to provide faster service. It would be difficult to think of a supermarket without a barcode reader, right?

Furthermore, the barcode reader reduces errors in price and merchandise records. Before the barcode reader, the cashier had to make the records manually. Therefore, errors were more frequent.

7. Sealers

Sealers must be used to package cold cuts, proteins, and other products. Many supermarkets adopt vacuum packaging procedures to obtain added value in their offerings. This is a differential that can be adopted to separate vegetables and other foods into predetermined portions to increase sales opportunities.

With this equipment, supermarkets become more organized and the presentation of products will attract the attention of consumers. Generally, portions of 1 kg are separated to facilitate the acquisition of goods, and calculation standards are used to produce packages measuring 20 x 30 cm.

8. Cash register

The cash register is used to control the inflow of financial resources into the supermarket. With it, transactions are carried out quickly and without losing the credibility of the operations. It is also important for protecting and organizing physical banknotes, as it is a machine that has numerous functions and can be connected to computers using software.

9. Shopping trolleys and baskets

There are various types of trolleys for supermarket and can therefore be adapted to the types of products in your business. Based on size, capacity, and type, you can buy a wide range of shopping carts for your establishment. During the shopping, people will use the carts to carry their items. In addition, you will find self-service shopping trolleys for your food stores, garden centers, DIY stores, etc.

10. POS Display, point-of-sale Advertising

It is used to promote all kinds of products and can take various forms: Poster, display, flag, or even stand, or column. Its objective is however always the same: to encourage or even trigger the act of purchasing.

POS systems also boost efficiency. Imagine faster checkouts, reduced errors, and improved employee productivity. Plus, many systems integrate with your existing accounting software, saving you time and ensuring data accuracy.

Search for Partners for Supermarket Optimization

As you can see, these are the 10 pieces of supermarket equipment that cannot be missing to boost your business. Purchase only quality equipment and search until you find the best on the market. Some companies, such as Global Automation Ltd, offer differentiated technical assistance and excellent cost-benefit solutions to their partners. We have many years and have the structure for complete assembly of supermarket equipment. We send designers and architects capable of optimizing your space and achieving the best possible design to attract customers and boost sales.

Contact us and ask for a quote!

[suvidhas]

Suvidha Storage steel engineered for wide loads, heavy loads and clear spans, long span racking is designed to meet applications that exceed the capabilities of standard pallet racking. … The result is an ultra-resilient racking system that can achieve up to 40′ spans without the loss of load capacity.

Website-https://suvidhass.com

Blaze

0 notes

[risha9517]

Comprehensive Commercial Storage Solutions: From Racks to Pallets

Explore our comprehensive range of commercial storage solutions tailored to meet your specific needs. From storage racks and cold storage to storage boxes and warehousing, we provide robust systems to optimize space and enhance efficiency. Our offerings include cable trays in various sizes, ideal for organizing and protecting your wiring infrastructure. As a leading pallet rack manufacturer, we deliver durable pallet racking systems and heavy-duty racks perfect for industrial applications. For retail environments, we offer specialized racks for shops, supermarket racks, and grocery store racks to maximize product display and storage.

Our slotted angle racks and plastic pallets ensure versatile and resilient storage options. Partner with us for top-quality storage products, including industrial pallets and vegetable display racks that cater to diverse warehousing needs. As a supermarket rack manufacturer and display rack for shop provider, we help businesses optimize space and improve customer experience. For cable management, our cable tray manufacturer services offer reliable solutions. Additionally, our warehouse storage solutions and plastic pallets provide robust support for various storage applications.

Website - https://suvidhass.com/ Call more information :  +91 9682939624

[stackshelves]

Juli's Heavy-duty Cold Storage Stacking Rack

The cold storage stacking rack is composed of a chassis structure and four upright poles. The upright poles of the Cold storage stacking rack are made of round tubes and can be disassembled. The chassis is welded by square tubes and angle steel, and has a solid structure. The Cold storage stacking racks for sale are made of high-quality steels as a whole, and their surfaces are electrostatically sprayed, which are environmentally friendly and beautiful. The size, style and color can be customized.

The Advantages of Cold Storage Stacking Rack

The cold storage stacking rack adopts a three-dimensional layout, which can make full use of the cold storage space and increase the storage density of goods in the warehouse. The Metal cold storage stacking rack design takes into account the carrying capacity and stability of the goods, ensuring the safety of the goods during storage and handling; and the design of the Cold storage stacking racks for sale is scalable and can be adjusted and expanded according to the actual needs of the cold storage. Cold storage stacking racks adopt a classified storage method, which can classify and manage different types of goods, facilitate access and inventory, achieve rapid access and transportation, and reduce inventory costs and operating costs.

Specification of Cold Storage Stacking Racks for Sale

Outer Dimensions（mm）

Inside Dimension（mm）

Color

Surface Treatment

Load Bearing（kg）

Material Quality

1200*1200*1200

1080*1080*950

Blue/Orange/Customized

Electrostatic Spray Molding

1000

High-Quality Carbon Steel

1000*1000*1200

880*880*950

Blue/Orange/Customized

Electrostatic Spray Molding

1000

High-Quality Carbon Steel

Customization

Customization

Customization

Customization

Customization

High-Quality Carbon Steel

FAQ of Cold Storage Stacking Rack

1 Are cold storage stacking racks suitable for all types of cold storage?



Yes, cold storage stacking racks are highly versatile and can be used in low-temperature storage, freezer storage, etc.

2 What is the maximum load-bearing capacity of cold storage stacking racks for sale?



The load capacity of cold storage stacking racks ranges for sale from 1 to 2 tons, and they can be used in multiple layers.

3 Can the metal cold storage stacking rack withstand freezing temperatures?



The Cold storage stacking rack can withstand freezing temperatures, and low-temperature environments do not affect their overall properties.

4 What materials are cold storage stacking racks for sale made of?



Cold storage stacking racks are made of high-quality square tubes, round tubes, and angle steel materials.

5 Can the cold storage stacking rack be adjusted to accommodate different items?



The metal cold storage stacking rack support customization and can be adapted to different products.

[indiantradebirddigital]

 Top Efficient Cooling Solutions In India

Our Cold Storage Rack System, painstakingly crafted for orderly and effective storage solutions in low-temperature settings, will increase the effectiveness of your cold storage. As a trusted provider, our cutting-edge cold storage rack systems offer superior performance for various applications. These racks are perfect for a variety of industries, including food storage, pharmaceuticals, and more. . Our Industrial Racks and Storage System are highly demanded in the market due to their optimum efficiency, utility, and durability. The Racks manufactured is assembled from the top quality. With our cutting-edge Rack Storage System technology, you can maximize the use of available space in your cold storage facilities while maintaining high standards of quality in all storage solutions and efficient operations for your products and materials.

[camaraindustries]

Drive-In Racking System | Drive-Through Racking System I Camara Industries, Inc

Drive-In Rack and Drive-Through Rack Systems are Ideal for high-volume, low-SKU applications . Lane depth can reach over 10 pallets deep and are a practical way to redeem pallet efficiency by using this high density storage system method. Contact Camara Industries, Inc to learn about our cost-effective drive in racking systems and start improving your storage capacity!

[gojover]

tsumiki gets the lead in her school’s winter play.

she’s glowing when she tells you, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes bright like she’s been holding the news in all day just to tell you first. 

satoru lifts her up the second she walks through the door, spinning her in a wide circle that makes her shriek with laughter. “that’s my star!” he shouts, nearly knocking over the coat rack. “do you want a limo? should i hire a red carpet?”

tsumiki clings to his shoulders and giggles. “no! just come watch.”

and of course you do. you both promise. you mark it on the calendar taped to the fridge door in bold red marker. you talk about it at dinner almost every night. she rehearses in the living room with megumi reading out lines in monotone, and satoru insists on calling her miss celebrity for an entire week. you watch the little girl bloom like a cherry blossom in the midst of snow with pride in your chest and love in your eyes.

but the night of the performance, satoru gets called away. something urgent. something that doesn’t leave room for arguments or excuses, no matter how much you want to make one.

you’re the one who tells her.

you kneel beside her as she adjusts her costume in the mirror, her little paper crown slightly askew. she turns to you with a grin—“is it time yet?”—and you hate how it fades when she sees your face.

“he can’t come?” tsumiki asks quietly.

you shake your head. “he wanted to. really badly. but something came up.”

there’s a pause. a long one. then she nods, like she was expecting it. “it’s okay,” she says. “he’s busy.”

she tries to smile, and it’s brave. but her fingers tug at the hem of her sleeves for the rest of the evening. on the ride to school, she looks out the window the whole time, quiet in a way that makes your chest ache. you reach for her hand at a red light. she squeezes back, but doesn’t say a word.

backstage, she lets the other kids chatter around her. you help fix her hair, check her costume one last time, and whisper, “you’re going to be amazing.”

“i know,” tsumiki says, and stands in the spotlight with her chin high and her voice steady. she recites every line like she was born to do it. she draws laughs during her funny bits and beams when the audience claps. 

but you see the little glances she throws to the crowd when she thinks no one’s watching. the flicker of hope she holds onto, just in case. the way her smile falters—briefly, just for a second—when she doesn’t see him there.

you take a hundred pictures. you record every single scene she’s in. your phone storage nearly fills up, but you don’t care. you want to capture it all. every little piece, so he won’t miss anything.

after, when you hand her flowers and hug her tight, she grins again, tired but happy. she doesn’t say anything about him not being there. doesn’t bring it up at all. she just brushes her teeth at home, changes into her pajamas, and climbs into bed.

later, when the house is still and the kids are asleep, the front door creaks open. you’re curled up on the couch in the dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the lamp turned on in the corner of the room.

satoru steps inside, hair windblown, shirt untucked, eyes searching. “did i miss everything?” he asks.

you nod, your heart twisting for both of them. you pull out your phone, unlock it, and hold it out. “here,” you say. “you didn’t miss it completely.”

he takes it from your hand and sinks down onto the couch like his legs have given up on him. you sit next to him in silence while he watches the first video, his face unreadable, like he’s holding his breath.

satoru watches every single video twice. the third time, he starts crying.

⇢ a/n: i wrote this because i was bored in class and ended up daydreaming about having a family with someone. sue me. + inspired by real life events.

[mcondance]

an “i love you” that isn’t words

Spencer’s love for you is evident all around you.

warnings & notes the rumors are true i love tøp and spencer reid! anyways fluff but still MDNI 18+, title from shy away by twenty øne piløts, do not listen as you read. inspired by the lyric it’s titled after. real freaks only (people who love love), reader may or may not be autistic i don’t know if you feel it you feel it! reader is a bit shorter than spencer, writing fluff is becoming less and less out of character for mcondance

1.1k words (what…….)

Spencer’s apartment is still, save for the solitary body making its way from room to room. Music floats from his turntable— you remember having to tell him to store his records vertically. Even that super mind of his didn’t contain the knowledge of what happens to records if they’re stacked on top of each other. So he stood them up, and he made room for your records as your collection slowly began to find a new home. 

The desk by the door is littered with both yours and his papers, and trinkets that belong to both you and him, Spencer’s lamp, and a really weird looking lamp you got off EBay more than a few years back.

One of your blankets is thrown over the back of the couch, infusing some color into the deep browns and reds of his living room. The small table in front of the couch holds your tattered copy of the book you’ve been reading since you were 12 years old. It looks like something you can’t describe, something that’s been with you for a decade now lying on your boyfriend’s table. Poetic, maybe.

Your stacks of books have long since married with his. To anyone else, it’d look like a library, but to you both it’s not enough, not enough. 

“We’re gonna have to rent a storage building,” you deadpan, staring up at the ceiling in bed.

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting his head fall toward where you lay beside him. “But what if there’s a book we want to read but it’s in the storage building? Then we’d have to drive over just to get it—”

“And we’d get distracted like we always do so we’d be there for hours.”

“It’s unproductive.”

“Horribly so.”

You’re not sure who breaks the faux-formality first. Either way, you both end up laughing with sparkling eyes fixed on each other, and a giggled agreement to just let the books continue to pile up. 

“I wouldn’t mind living in a library,” is what Spencer tells you after he’s caught his breath.

In the bathroom there’s room for yours and his body wash. Your toothbrush sits next to his in a brown mug with a funky design on it, one you brought in your move. Along the side of the sink lay your hair products, arranged neatly. Two towels hang from a spiraling rack you bought at an antique shop a few months after you moved in. 

“Spencer, look!” You exclaim, clearing the small space in less steps than it’d usually take you. He follows quickly, pressing his chest to your back as he looks over your shoulder and gives his attention to the metal rack. 

“We can put it in the bathroom, maybe. If that’s fine with you,” you suggest, turning to face him. It seems like his eyes are ever melting when you’re in his line of sight, but somehow they melt further when you turn. His arms wrap around you and pull you close, encasing you in the kind of warmth you get when you step out of the cold into a heated building, shivering but grateful to be out of the frigid temperature. It’s reminiscent of how it felt to actually step into the shop. 

“If you want to, then we’re going to.” 

“Yay,” you smile, before you kiss him shortly. He smiles back, glowing eyes soft and smooth, and kisses you authentically, and not so deeply as to be inappropriate in public, but still enough that you distantly think your legs might buckle. 

The bedroom is a portmanteau of you and Spencer. Your plushes sleep soundly on your side of the bed, and at night they watch quietly from their perch on the table on the other side of your night stand. Your stand matches Spencer’s, so heart-flutteringly you’re sure teenage-you would jump up and down and screech. Scattered upon your nightstand are a couple of half-drunk bottles of water, your vitamins, various necklaces and rings, a couple of books stacked on top of each other, and a drawing Spencer made for you. 

Spencer’s side is a bit less packed, but still unorganized nonetheless. Books (of course), a journal and a pen (you’ve gotten him into journaling as a way to regulate himself when he’s feeling overwhelmed), and when he comes home later tonight his watch will join the rest of his things.

One side of the closet is yours, and the other is Spencer’s. While his style seems wacky to other people, there’s a couple of pieces on either side of the closet that have a sibling on the other side. The clothes that can’t fit in the closet are folded in the dresser drawers. 

The dresser is decorated with a couple of your CDs, the ones you like to see when you’re in the room. Necklaces and rings plucked from various antique and thrift stores are spread over the cherry-tinted wood, mixed in with some of Spencer’s cologne, a tie or two he hasn’t hung up yet, and a bag of candy you’ve both been eating out of. 

Your trinkets mix with his, a display of two people who spend way too much time sifting through shelves in places full of dust and the smell that is unique to antique shops.

“Jesus, why do these shops always smell like that,” you whisper as you enter the store.

“Everything in here is most likely, at the least, over 50 years old. Most older things are made of natural fabrics like linen, cotton, wood— you know, stuff like that— that are extremely good at absorbing smells. I’m sure our clothes now will have a unique smell that people down the line will have the exact same reaction to.”

You smile, and you think your eyes are about as wide as a saucer, that little look of pining you always take on when he talks like that. It’s not your fault, really, he’s just so nerdy and you love his rants so much. 

“I can tell you more about it while we shop,” he offers. 

“Uh, duh,” you answer, looking between him and a cute tie you think he’d like.

In the kitchen cabinet, your bowl is freshly cleaned, as Spencer washed it before he left this morning. Ever the pattern-recognizer, he picked up on your attachment quite quickly and has made that accommodation for you ever since. You’ll use other bowls if you have to, but you haven’t had to for months. 

The record finishes. You pick another one out of your section of the collection, and play that one. Coincidentally, it’s one of your favorites that became one of Spencer’s favorites after you played it for him. One happily and gratefully became two.

[slimybeth69]

Hungry Man

Chapter Two: God The Animal

Series Masterlist | Chapter One

Chapter Summary: “…made me think about what it would be like if God the animal bit me with his razor-sharp fangs. God has huge poisonous fangs and he loves to bite people who follow the rules. If you follow the rules, God's going to kill you with his long teeth ; and I love knowing that.”

warnings/tags: DDDNE, smut, overstim, extreme dub con, coercion, lying, dubious ethics, Mister-man being sneaky as hell, reader is struggling, hearing voices.

a/n- hello, this chapter is mostly smut but with lots of little things important to the story. I hope you all enjoy <3

Mister opens the front door of his home for you with his hand pressed gently into your lower back. The smell of him hits you, like you hit the ground after falling out of the rafters– how many days have even gone by since then?

That happened yesterday– earlier this morning, technically. 

That doesn’t even make sense and you refuse to process that information because it’s ridiculous. That all happened days ago, maybe even weeks ago. You are actively fighting the memory of being inside your favorite, most safe and special place less than twenty-four hours ago. 

Why did you ever stop fighting him?

He adds weight to his touch on your body, and carefully forces you inside. Your feet shuffle along the hardwood floor just inside the entryway, his warm hand guiding you. 

The door closing makes you shudder, and a cold sweat beads at the nape of your neck. His house looks like a normal house. It looks like a house you would have seen before the outbreak, before the loss of everyone you had ever known. Before the infected, the terrible living conditions in the quarantine zones–  before the real monsters emerged from the rubble of what was civilized once. 

Mister-man’s house looks… 

Safe. 

It does look safe. It looks warm, inviting, and familiar. It’s like you’ve been here before and know your way around even though you’ve never once stepped foot inside a house in almost 12 years. The closest you’ve gotten was a dry goods storage shed the raiders used to lock up shelf-stable food products. 

Look at you, been in two houses today and you’re perfectly fine. 

They’re all trickin’ you, and you’re fallin’ for it.  

There is a fireplace and it's already lit, keeping the house nice and warm. There are stairs that lead to a second floor, and you wonder what’s up there before your eyes wander into the kitchen area. 

Joel lets his hand fall from the small of your back. “Y’like it?” He shrugs the coat off his shoulders and hangs it up on a coat rack by the door.

You shrug your one working shoulder silently as he stands in front of you to unzip your jacket. Your eyes don’t meet his, they can’t right now because they’re too busy taking in everything else. 

Joel slips your coat off carefully and hangs it up beside his, “Go on and take a look around. Get familiar with it all,” he motions for you to keep walking, go further. 

Curious feet carry you deeper into his home to inspect what Mister-man has. “Where is Puddin’?” You still don’t look at him, you just keep wandering and taking in the sounds of the logs crackling in the fireplace and the texture against your fingertips as you brush them along the wallpaper. 

His kitchen is uncluttered and smells like it’s been cleaned recently.

Make a mess. Ruin his things. Burn it down. 

“Somewhere ‘round here. Hidin’ probably.” Joel explains from behind you. “Makin’ a mess, I’m sure.” 

Puddin’s probably gone. Ain’t ever gonna see him again.

“Where’re ya’ thinkin’ he might be?” Your blood pressure rises at the thought that you’ve been lied to, that Puddin’ isn’t here and was let go in the woods shortly after you left with Maria. 

Or worse. 

The dining room smells like him too, and you wonder if there is a part of the house that doesn’t. His table is big enough to seat four and all the chairs match. There is a china cabinet with nothing in it. A few decorative pictures and knick-knacks on the wall. 

It’s a normal house. The bad ones didn’t look like this, or Maria’s. 

Traps don’t always look like traps. Tricks don’t always feel like tricks. 

“I dunno. I ain’t really pay attention to where he ran off too when I let him off leash,” Joel sighs while he follows behind you only two or three paces. You can feel his eyes boring holes into the back of your head. 

You suck your teeth rapidly several times and then call out, “T’mere Puddie-boy. T’mon,” you call in a high-pitched voice. He doesn’t come running to you like he normally would, but he’s probably just as scared as you are in a house. Puddin’s never ever been inside one!! You try not to think about it– just hope that Puddin’ is hiding, and will come out soon. 

The kitchen opens up into his living room where the fireplace is. You can see the door that leads outside where you and Mister-J had just been standing just a moment ago. 

Run. 

The couch faces the fireplace, and there is a wooden rocking chair with an overstuffed cushion to sit on adjacent to it. 

A nice place for you and Joel to sit and talk. 

Which is exactly what you wanted in the first place. All you wanted was someone to talk with, not at, or to, but with. Someone who would show interest in the things you wanted to show them, and that was Mister-J. 

“Do you wanna see the bedroom?” He asks as the backs of his fingers ghost against the curve of your ass. “Finish what we started earlier,” he adds, an octave lower than just a moment ago.

You do want that. 

Mister and his incredible cock, his large, strong hands that grip you and pull and pinch your skin while he thrusts into you. His facial hair scratching at your inner thighs, warm and muscular biceps and forearms wrapped around your middle. 

You turn to face him, eyes finally darting up to meet his gaze. “Do I get to sleep there,” you pause, expecting him to start laughing at you for having such an absurd thought, but he doesn’t, he’s quiet and waits for you to keep talking. “...or do I have a different room– my own room?” 

Somehow, for whatever reason, you want both. You want to sleep with Mister and also, have your own room away from him to go to whenever you want. 

Just like at the mall. 

The idea that you could have both makes your heart skip a beat.

He’s not goin’ to give you shit. 

With the way he’s acting, you’re not so sure about that. 

He looks slightly amused, but not annoyed, and then he slips his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, using it to pull you closer into him. “You can sleep with me,” he leans in until his lips are almost pressed against yours. His and your breaths mingle momentarily before he says, “I could make up the other room for ya’,” he growls and kisses you quickly. “I’d rather ya’ sleep with me though,” he finishes with another kiss, but this one lingers a moment longer than the other, and there is force, and pressure that hadn’t been there with the first. 

It feels like there is something behind the kiss, but that doesn’t make sense. There isn’t a word you know to describe what it feels like because it’s foreign. It makes you shiver– the little hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. 

It’s all a trick. Just wait ‘n see, stupid girl. 

You stare at him inquisitively during the entire interaction, “Whaddya doin’?” You tip your head to the side and wrinkle your nose, one eyebrow raised after a minute of trying to learn his unspoken, untranslatable language silently in your head. 

It feels foreign because it’s new, no one has cared about you in a long time. It doesn’t feel normal, but it’s okay.

Joel snorts, shakes his head once and then grabs your right hand, pulling you gently in the direction of the stairs. “Gonna show you the bedrooms,” he’s explaining as the two of you climb to the second floor. 

You ain’t ever leavin’ this house again. 

That sweet voice is laughing at you, almost cackling. It feels horrible to be laughed at, especially by the voices inside your head. The ones that got you into this mess in the fucking first place. Without that sweet and lighthearted voice, you might not have done the things you did out in the woods. That voice was your courage, your enabler, the one who told you that you could do anything. 

Thought you could, sug. Guess I was wrong... 

You’re only human, honey. 

The hallway upstairs is dark, and long and feels more ominous than you expected it to. Part of you is screaming to turn around and leave, the other part of you is morbidly curious about the outcome if you stay. So you freeze, yank your hand out of Joel’s and stay glued to the spot at the top of the stairs. 

Mister whips around, his stance looks like he half expected to take off running, knees slightly bent and arms twitching like he’s ready to grab you. But he relaxes when he sees you standing still, your one working arm wrapped around yourself. 

“Why’s it so dark?” You ask nervously, glancing around for the light switches on the wall but you see none. 

Mister glances up, and then points to the ceiling. 

Your eyes follow, and notice the broken light fixture above you. “Oh.” 

There isn’t a sense of urgency, which you’re surprised about. You expected him to rush you, to want to get you into a room as quickly as he could. Instead he moves slowly like the snails that lived on the banks of the river near the mall. 

“You scared of the dark or somethin’?” 

You can’t tell if he’s taunting, or playfully teasing, or being serious. Nothing really makes sense anymore– one side of you is pulling towards the stairs again, itching to get to the front door; not before lighting Mister-man’s house on fire. 

The other side of you, the side closest to Joel feels like it’s magnetized and he’s your polar opposite. It’s hard to escape the draw that is Mister-J and his half-smirks and deep voice, the way his arms feel wrapped around you. 

“I ain’t scared,” you lie sassily, the words stitched with apprehension. “Just can’t see where m’goin’.” You are frightened by what could be hiding behind these doors in the darkness.

Probably a lil prison just for you– ‘n Tommy helped him fix it all up for ya’. 

That is a possibility. This wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve been tricked by someone being kind to you. Mister-man and his nice tone, and his kisses. His sultry voice talking about fucking– he absolutely might be trying to trick you. 

You wait for some reassurance from the dark voice– but it doesn’t come. 

Stupid girl. Why did you ever stop fighting him?

Mister snaps his fingers in front of your face and it makes you flinch. 

Instinctively, your right hand swats his fist away but he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you close to him again. 

“Where were ya’ just now?” His voice is quiet, almost a whisper. His grip on your wrist tightens as you try to pull away. 

His question confuses you because you haven’t moved from this spot since you got to the second floor. Before you have more time to think about what he could mean, he adds on more words that continue to puzzle you.

“You do that a lot,” he adds as he begins to take steady but deliberate steps backwards, further into the darkness, closer to those mysterious doors. The void starts to envelope Mister, the shadows licking and dancing across his face as he pulls you further down the hallway. 

It’s ya’ last chance, Sug. 

It’s hard to breathe, and Mister-man is crowding your every sense. His once welcoming, comforting smell is now overwhelming and makes your mouth hot. Saliva pools under your tongue and you can’t remember how to swallow. 

Gotta make a run for it. 

Where is the dark voice!? You need it now more than ever to calm these nerves, to make this boulder in your stomach revert back to the pebble it was only moments ago. 

You just have to trust, honey. 

Can’t trust not one thing, not nobody. ‘Specially not a Mister-man. 

There are too many sounds inside your brain, and too many feelings happening in your chest. Your heart and lungs and everything else hidden behind ribs, tendons and flesh have been replaced with a hive of angry hornets. You’re buzzing, and in the worst way. 

“Hey,” Joel’s voice sounds like it’s so far away, like it could be coming from the atmosphere. 

The sound doesn’t grip you, or pull you back from floating away from him. The darkness is suffocating; too much and taking over. 

Joel watches you slip further and further away, his eyes adjusting to the dark quicker than yours. He’s more accepting of the things hiding in the dark than you must be. Joel isn’t afraid of the dark. He’s afraid of what he can see, once a brain processes something– it has to work hard to get it out– and some memories are etched so deeply that they never leave no matter how hard the brain works.

Some memories are never forgotten.

“Hey,” Joel cups your face with one hand, your chin resting on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Your brow crinkles, but you don’t respond otherwise– you don’t see him and you’re not trying to. You’re disappearing back inside of yourself and it’s strange the way it happens so fast sometimes. “Hey!” He tries again. This time he lets your wrist go, and your arm falls limply to your side and dangles there. 

Joel snaps rapidly in your face. 

You flinch and retract from him, trying to free your face from his grip but he holds you tight enough to keep you from backing away. 

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t–” you’re mumbling, barely audible. “I can’t, I sh-should, I won’t, I want to. I c-can’t. I ca-can, can’t.” 

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” He wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you close to him. Two stumbled steps and you’re crashing into him; he has to hold you upright as your legs betray you like a newborn foal’s would. 

“Trust him. I can’t trust him-” You’re on the verge of tears. Your eyes are wet, red and distant; looking right at Joel, but not truly seeing him. 

He doesn’t know where you are inside your head, or what you’re putting yourself through, what you’re forcing yourself to relive. “Trust who, babydoll?” He knows. He knows before you tell him, he can feel it dripping out of your pores in the form of a cold sweat. He needs to hear you say it, though. He needs to hear your sweet, soft voice say it. 

“Ca-Can’t trust… anyone,” you snivel quietly. “‘Sp-specially not a– a M-Mister-man,” you’re hiccuping now, unable to catch your breath. 

Joel comes to a stop with his back against something solid, he keeps you held against him with the arm still around your waist, the other slips behind him and he searches blindly for the doorknob. “That ain’t true. You can trust Mister-man. He ain’t ever gonna hurt ya’.” 

The door opens, and light spills out into the dark hallway, illuminating your terrified face and bleary eyed stare. 

The light snaps you out of it, the light brings you back to him, but you stiffen and push your right hand against his chest, brows pulled together angrily. 

“Get off me! No, no, no, no, no!” Your once sadly sweet voice is now deep and angry, eyes once again, looking right at Joel but it’s like he’s not even there, looking at someone else possibly. “Get off’a me! Don’ fuckin’ touch me!” You shriek. 

Oh, someone is gonna be hearin’ all of that– wonder what they’ll be thinkin’...

His body reacts before he can think about what else to do, how else to calm you down. Joel spins you around in his arm and then slaps one hand over your mouth as you continue your loud protesting. 

Whatever was holding you together, snaps… and violently. Your arms punch and flail in every direction, legs kick and slam into his shins as he drags you further into his room. 

Joel is too old for this, too tired to be dealing with this shit. “Enough’a that,” he’s straining as he’s pulling you closer to the bed. “

From behind his palm your loud muffled objections are now only his to hear. 

You know what she needs. You know what’ll make her your pliant lil pup. 

The back of Joel’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sinks down into it, bringing you with him. Joel presses the side of his mouth to your ear as he pushes himself further up the bed with his boot clad heels until his back touches the headboard. “Here we go,” he murmurs to you as he settles. His palm still rests over your mouth, his other wrapped around your waist.

You sob silently behind his hand, your fists are pathetically punching against his thighs and hips in protest, body slowly going limp in his grasp. 

Wonder when the last time she slept was…

He feels like that’s slightly condescending- you’re not a baby that needs a nap to stop being grumpy. He knows that you’ve been through things that have traumatized you, that have helped shape you into who you are today– good and bad. 

“Hey– ya’ sleepy? Need a good night’s sleep next to Mister?” He mumbles against the side of your face. 

It’s been something that’s been eating away at him for days. Since he broke the news to you about Harley Quinn and Joker, and how their love wasn’t what you thought it was– you had skipped out on him. 

For almost a week you had been gone, or hiding somewhere that Joel couldn’t find you. There had been nights in the mall that he had sworn he could feel you there with him, but you weren’t in the bed or even the mattress store at all. You were avoiding him, and that made him feel two things. 

Furious. So angry that he was sure the next time he saw you– he was going to kill you no matter if it took his life too. How could you just leave him with no weapons? No extra supplies, a fucking opossum to look after. Where the fuck did you run off to? 

He felt something else too, but he’s still not exactly sure what it was; he wasn’t just furious, something else was woven into the fibers of that anger, and he just couldn’t identify its origin- or reason. 

He kisses the top of your head as he adjusts the two of you to sit more comfortably, with you in his lap rather than just laying between his legs with your back pressed against his stomach. 

Now with your back against his chest, his legs pinning yours between together gently. “You gonna be a good girl for Mister? Remember where we’re at?” He rubs his hand across your stomach slowly, moving it up to tease the valley between your tits and then over your collarbone before repeating the motion back down your body. “Ain’t no one gonna hurt ya’, or get ya’-- not while I’m here, ok?” 

With scrabbling fingers starting to grip his jeans under your thighs, you nod your head slowly, and Joel removes his hand over your mouth. You don’t tell or scream, or start to fight him, but you don’t make any other sounds or move at all. 

Joel wasn’t sure what to do now– he honestly hadn’t really expected all this to happen. He had expected you to explode once you found out how many people were really in Jackson, he expected you to act crazy once the patrol people found the two of you. He had expected you to fight when Maria and Tommy wanted to split the two of you up. 

He thought once he got you inside, through the front door– he was in the clear. If you were going to fight him again– it should have been outside his house. 

Now he’s got you back, and he had planned to fuck you into this mattress, make you love him again and then, just keep you preoccupied enough until you forgot about the mall completely. 

“Whaddya need from me?” He whispers, continuing his slow tracing movements across the front of your body, the tips of his fingers brushing along the waistband of your jeans mindlessly. He’d give you anything you asked for. 

There is only the sound of both of you trying to steady your breathing, trying to slow your hearts pounding. He can feel yours with his hand every time he moves it across your chest, and he knows you can feel his thudding against your back. 

“W-Wanna–” you hesitate, and you’re trembling against him now. 

Joel has to push the unprovoked rage down because you haven’t said you wanted to go back to the mall yet, but he knows you do. It’s all you said on the way here, and if you start asking again after the deal he made with you– he’s going to lose it. 

“What? Wanna what, babygirl?” His hand moves down one thigh and then back up, over your jeans covered mound, down the other thigh– an addition to the pattern he had been tracing before. 

The trembling turns into full on shaking, he half expects you to start crying again, but he brushes the backs of his fingers of his other hand across your cheek gently, and he tips your head to the side, and leans forward to look at you. 

“What’re you shakin’ for?” 

Your eyes meet his, watery and red still, chin trembling softly. “Wanna know you’re not mad at me,” you say it fast, high pitched and strained, face twisting as the tears fall. “That you’re not trickin’ me ‘n aren’t ever gon’ let me go outside again, ‘n keep me all chained up—” you choke back a sob as Joel wipes the tears off your face, not saying a thing. “Th-That you didn’t hu-hurt Puddin’ or let him go–” 

Joel interrupts you, “I wouldn’t ever hurt Puddin’,” he shakes his head and shifts forward an inch more when your sobbing takes over, the words no longer coming out. He wonders if you even heard what he said, or if you’re being sucked back into your own head again. “Puddin’ is here in the house somewhere. Probably in the basement– I’ll go look for ‘em if that’ll make ya’ feel better,” he offers. “Would seein’ him make you feel better,” he asks over your crying. 

You’re trying to reel it in, piece yourself back together. You nod, sniffling. Joel pinches your nose together gently, clears your nostrils and wipes his hands on the back of his shirt. Your eyes meet again, “Yeah, that would make me feel a lil better,” your voice wavers, still unsure of the situation around you. 

Joel hooks his index finger under your chin so you can’t look away, “I don’t wanna do any of that stuff to ya’,” he shakes his head from side to side. “Brought you back with me so ya’ could see what this place was like,” he rubs his thumb under your plump and worried bottom lip. “See that it ain’t like where you came from,” his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your pout before he’s back to looking into your eyes. 

“What if I don’t like it?” 

“I told ya’ what would happen if ya’ didn’t like it– but we haven’t even been here two hours,” Joel gives you a knowing look. 

Your body shrinks back into his and your bottom lip starts to tremble again. 

“You gotta give it a chance– a real one. Gotta try– ‘cause why?” He raises both eyebrows at you and waits. “What’re you gonna make a good effort for?

You blink once and then drone back to him, “‘Cause the only way Mister-man will love me is if I try.” 

The deal makes complete sense to you. There wasn’t a thing that didn’t make sense. You still feel wrong as you speak the works back to him monotonously. “‘Cause the only way Mister will love me is if I try.” 

‘Cause it ain’t ever gonna fuckin’ happen. He’s never gonna love you. 

He was never going to love you at the mall, he couldn’t love you there. 

Joel waits for more, waits for the rest as if you maybe had forgotten the most important part of the deal. 

“And if I really don’t like it…” you trail off and wait for him to produce a collar with a lock on it, and a chain that attaches because you’re not sure if he meant it. It felt too good to be true. “We can go back.” 

Joel looks proud, his eyes are crinkled at the corners, and he’s got his familiar half-smile that warms you from the inside, out. “Good girl,” he gives your chin a gentle pinch before he leans back against the headboard and pulls you into his chest again. “You wanna go look for Puddin’ with me?”

The idea of being in here alone, where he might lock the door on you once it’s shut– trapping you inside for however long he wants. 

This whole time you had been in this room, fighting to be free, accepting your horrendous fate– whatever it may be– being comforted by the man you had assumed to be your captor. 

He is your captor– are you fuckin’ thick?

His room looks normal and clean, it looks like something you’d see out of a catalog from the mall when you first got there. A nice comforter with corresponding pillowcases. Two bedside tables with matching lamps sitting on both. The walls were painted a familiar beige that made you feel small, and helpless for some reason. 

Mister slides his hands down the front of you, exploring you, feeling you. Everything about it makes your head spin. 

“We could go look for ‘em later,” he murmurs suggestively in your ear as he palms your tits over your shirt gently. “Never got my chance t’finish makin’ you feel good earlier.” Mister’s accent drawls on as he continues to grope and squeeze at your chest with insistent fingers. 

When you had been ambushed earlier by the group of patrolies, Joel had been trying so hard to calm you down in the only way he knew how– to make you feel good. 

All the emotions from the day- from possibly losing Mister-man, thinking you were going to die, then being dragged through the woods on a leash and being zapped to shit every time you tried to make a run for it, or fight him- boiled over right as the lights from the settlement or compound, or whatever it was fucking called, started to show in the distance. Then you fell apart. 

Joel was just trying to put you back together. 

Trying to trick you, play games with your head. 

Mister presses his mouth against your neck, one of his massive hands sliding down your stomach and to the waistband of your jeans. “Just like makin’ you feel good,” he murmurs as his fingers slip between your skin and the fabric like he’s practiced this before. The pads of his ring and index finger trace the seam of your cunt slowly.

Your head lols back against his shoulder, legs instinctively falling apart as he dips those same two fingers into your entrance. “I know,” you’re whispering with a dry mouth, nodding in agreement. Your eyes flutter while he slides his thick digits into you slowly. 

The both of you groan in unison at the way your body molds around him as he pushes deeper, the “Might be the only thing I know how t’do right anymore,” he almost growls into your ear. His forearm grips you around your torso, his hand still cupping and pawing at one of your tits as he holds you close to him. 

You groan in displeasure as he withdraws from inside you, turning your head to look up at him with your brows pinched together. “What’re ya’--”

Mister’s lips crash against yours, and his mouth opens; his tongue licks at the inside of your cheeks the minute you part your lips like he’s late for an appointment. Then he’s moving between your legs, hovering over you, leaning you back gently against the pillows. He pulls away from the kiss and looks at you with dark, blown-out pupils that make his eyes appear almost completely black. His chest is heaving, and so is yours as you try to catch your breath, but he’s staring at you like he could tear you apart piece by piece. 

He’s going to. Sink his fangs into you and rip you open.

Silently, his deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, and his calloused hands push them down your thighs, and then he pulls them off your body completely. Now you’re bare– exposed to him from the waist down. He still says nothing while he takes in the sight of you like this, his knuckles ghosting along the inside of your thigh as he trails it up towards your core.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he speaks quietly, almost so low you can barely hear him while he gazes down between your legs. “She’s mine,” his eyes flash up to yours as two fingers find their place buried inside you, his thumb rubbing lazy circles around your now throbbing clit.

You respond with a quiet moan, and a slack jaw as he curls his fingers up towards your stomach, against that perfect spot nestled inside of you that makes you warm everywhere. Everything is right and incredible, and there isn’t anything that could make this bad– not one single thing. 

That’s why he’s doin’ it– so you feel like this. Tryin’ to trick ya’, ‘n you’s fallin’ for it. He’s poison.

Mister thrusts impossibly deeper, jolting you, almost pushing you backwards with the force of it, demanding you to look at him, really see him while he pulls back and then thrusts forward again. “You heard me?” He questions as every muscle inside of you tries to keep him inside of you. 

“Wha–” 

He doesn’t let you finish. He pushes the heel of his hand against your clit while he curls his fingers rapidly inside of you, “I said,” he leans forward and braces one hand against the headboard just above your shoulder. “This pretty pussy is fuckin’ mine,” he growls and switches back to plunging his fingers into you again, as deep as he can. 

It’s so hard to keep your focus when he’s making you feel so fucking good, your eyes close as the pleasure closes in on you- but Mister lets out a loud, sharp whistle that makes them snap open. 

He’s shaking his head already, a mischievous smile on his face. “Nuh-uh. Y’know better– you look at me,” he pulls his fingers from inside you once again and sucks them into his mouth. 

“M’sorry,” you whine quietly, desperate for his touch, desperate for that release that you’ve been denied for so long. Mister chuckles as he laps and sucks at his digits, ravenous for your taste. “She’s yours– you’re right. She is.” You nod in agreement as you babble.

Mister releases his fingers with a loud, wet pop and then reaches for his waist. “Oh, I know she is,” his belt jingles as he gets it open and he pulls his zipper down. “Needed to make sure you know,” Mister pushes his jeans to mid-thigh, watching you watching him in amazement as he lets his hard, angry looking cock slap against his lower stomach. 

Your mouth starts to water at the sight of him, every vein is throbbing, and the dusky skin of his shaft now red and the tip of him is almost purple and drooling. 

All for you. He’s yours, too. 

“S’all for me?” The blood is pounding in your ears, and your eyes flash up to catch him nodding at you. 

One of his thick hands grasps the base of himself and squeezes tight. He settles on his knees, your legs draped over either of his thighs as he scoots himself closer to you. His voice rumbles in your ear as he slaps his shaft against your folds, and you feel how thick and heavy– how ready he is for you. 

What he says doesn’t register. How could it when you’re watching him drag is cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your slick. He rocks his hips back and forth, the friction on your clit is delicious and you arch your hips up to meet him. 

Joel uses his free hand to hold your hip, and he squeezes, digging his fingers into your skin. “Y’aint fuckin’ listenin’ to me,” he barks at you, halting his movements and pushing you back down into his bed. 

Your eyes meet him once again, and he’s unreadable- he’s not exactly the same man you met in the mall. There is something new, something unknown about him now. It’s like he’s taken a mask off and you recognize his voice and his touch but you don’t know him anymore. “Sorry–”

Mister stares at you while notching himself at your entrance. “No need t’be sorry,” he breathes out as your aching hole flutters around the tip. “Just listen to Mister,” he pushes in a fraction of an inch and you’re not sure if he’s teasing you, or trying to make it last longer. 

A sigh leaves you as the burn from the stretch settles inside you, the pain mixed with the pleasure. The pleasure mixed with every other emotion. All of it is so good. “M’listenin’ now,” you nod your head, fighting the urge to look down at where you’re joined. 

Joel nods his head in approval, and rubs circles on your hip with his thumb. “You’re mine,” he rasps out as he pushes forward again. “All of ya’.” He lets go of the base of his shaft and uses that hand to hold your other hip. He pulls you against him while thrusting into you, and bottoms out. 

You let out a loud, filthy groan as the tip of him kisses your cervix immediately. Your right hand reaches for him, wrapping around his wrist as he keeps his grip on your waist. “Oh f–fuck.”

He is perfect. 

“All mine,” he grunts and holds himself inside of you, allowing you to adjust to his size, to mold to him like you always do. “Ya’ hear me that time or do–” he cuts himself off with a low groan as he pulls back an inch and then pulls you back down onto his shaft. 

“H–heard ya’,” you moan, nodding back at him in additional confirmation. “I’m yours.” Your walls clench around him, body reacting to the idea of being his. A new, wet wave of arousal coats his cock while he’s still inside of you. 

Joel snickers, feeling your immediate ratification leaking around him. “Oh ya’ like that, babydoll? Like bein’ mine?” He growls pridefully, his hips picking up speed. 

You barely recognize that you’re a real person when he’s inside of you, when he’s close to you like this. Everything makes sense while also meaning nothing at all. As long as Mister is here, as long as he wants so badly it feels like he needs you. “Uh-huh,” you babble, eyes finally closing and resting back against the pillows. “L-Love it.”

Joel leans over you, bracing himself on one forearm, “Yeah… I know,” his other hand keeps its grip on your hip as he continues his crescendoing pace, fucking you open for him and dragging the defined ridge of his cock against that spot– that place only he knows how to reach and touch over and over again. That place that makes you breathless and leaves you sometimes sobbing underneath him.

Tonight you’re moaning loudly, on the verge of potentially being too loud– but no more tears, no more fear inside of you. It’s just Mister making you feel like you’re weightless: he is the source of all your pleasure and you’ll never find a feeling like this again without him. 

Joel presses his temple against yours and you feel him; slick with sweat and warm like the day you met at the tail end of the summer last year. “Feel so fuckin’ good,” he half whispers, half grunts into your ear.

The room’s filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and skin slapping against skin. There is something primal about the way he’s touching you tonight. His teeth graze the skin of your cheek, and then he nips at you, pinching the skin hard enough to make you whimper.

His hips never falter, sawing back and forth, cock slamming into you like this is a punishment, like he’s angry with you, like he hates you– “S’my turn,” he murmurs with his lips pressed to the shell of your ear. “Take care of ya’,” he grunts as his hips snap into yours, punching the air right out of you. “Keep you safe now.”

His words resonate with you, almost doing more for the intense coiling in your belly than the feeling of him inside you. “P-Please don’t stop,” His sentiments do more than the way he hitches your leg up on his shoulder and suddenly reaches parts of you that feel devastating in the most incredible and blissful way possible.

“S’my good girl,” he pants into your ear at your pliability. His deep voice praising you has your walls clenching around him. “Fuck,” he groans breathily, feeling you flutter around him. 

His hand leaves your hip and slides it between your bodies to rub circles around your clit again, slow but deliberate, meaningful and precise movements that have your back arching off the bed. Ministrations he’s learned that you like– and remembered them so he can make you feel this way over and over again. That tight, hot ball of goodness is growing in your lower stomach, and it’s tearing desperate, ragged noises out of you that you didn’t even know you could make.

“Don’t stop– Don’t stop,” your right hand slides up the curve of his shoulder and behind his neck before your fingers card through the thick mess of gray and brown curls. His voice is going to push you off the precipice. 

Mister incredibly increases his speed and you worry for a moment that you’re going to be fucked up the headboard behind you until you feel his hand on the top of your skull, sliding down to cup your head close to him. 

“Talk– please t-talk,” you plead airily against his neck. “Don’t stop talkin’.” 

Joel presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his hips hammering into you still. You can feel him grinning against your skin for a moment before he pulls his chest away from yours. He holds your leg against his torso. He suddenly looks like he’s in pain, but the grimace disappears from his face just as quickly as it had shown up. 

“You–” You’re about to ask if he’s alright, if he wants to switch positions but he Mister cuts you off. 

“Shut up–” He rasps, hand exploring your thigh and shin, lips pressing into your ankle. It’s a familiar picture. He kisses you there whenever he fucks you like this. 

At the mall sometimes he would bite you there, nipping at the bone, and then the sensitive skin on the top of your foot before he pulled out to finish on your belly.

Tonight it’s different. Everything in the room feels charged– ready to zap you dead if you touched anything but Mister. He’s grounding you, keeping you safe right now. 

“Lil pup needs me, huh?” He sounds like he’s teasing you, but the words go right to your core and you clench around him again, tighter and more rapidly your walls flitter and constrict. 

You let out a pathetic whine because yes, you do need him. That scares you and makes your cunt throb at the same time. 

“Say it,” Mister continues his touch on your sensitive clit, rubbing in faster, sloppier circles. It doesn’t matter how precise his touch is anymore because you’re so close. 

Everything inside of you is taught and ready to explode. “Y-Yeah,” you pant nod your head rapidly.

“Need what?” Mister purrs deeply, seemingly already satisfied by the fucked-out look on your face, or the actual, desperate need behind your eyes that has been building for him and him alone. His thumb rubs furiously around your nub, his leaking tip pushes so deeply inside of you that you swear you can feel it in your stomach. 

Your mouth hangs open silently as your impending orgasm shoots sparks from your lower belly to the rest of your body. 

Joel’s palm connects with the side of your thigh hard enough to hear the smack echo off the walls of his room. The sting settles into your flesh, and you bite your bottom lip to suppress a whimper. 

“C’mon– lemme hear your pretty voice say it” Mister’s voice is low and demanding– just what you needed to tip you over the edge. 

Your chest heaves, and you sob loudly, “Need you, need you, need you!” Everything is hot, and good- your legs twitch as the waves of pleasure crash over you again and again. The stress and the worry that had been building up a hard shell around you being eroded away with each broken moan that leaves your raw and tender throat. 

Mister-man doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop his brutal pace he set. He instead begins to rub your clit rapidly with four stiff fingers. “Atta girl” he growls into the side of your calf. Then he sinks his teeth into you. 

“Oh fuck–” you groan, letting your head fall back against the pillows again as the bliss courses through all the nerves and veins you have. “Oh my god,” you keen loudly, back bowing off the bed dramatically. 

Mister sucks on the spot where he just indented marks of his teeth into your skin. His tongue laves at the sore, tender skin like he’s hungry for your taste. “S’right– so fuckin’ pretty when you come on my cock,” he’s grunting, fingers working feverishly over your clit to bring you there.

Your shoulder hurts as your arm moves so you can try and sit up on your elbows to watch him, but you don’t care– it’s not nearly as bad as missing out on the view of him splitting you in half, watching the way you obscenely stretch open for him. You whimper at the sight.

Mister’s forehead is damp and his hair clings to it, the column of his throat is red and also stippled with beads of sweat that drip down behind the fabric of his flannel shirt. His forearm holds your leg close to his chest as he rests his head against the side of your foot, gazing down at you. 

He’s handsome and loves to make you feel good. 

It’s all a trick. 

It doesn’t matter right now if it’s a trick, or if he’s genuine with why he’s doing what he’s doing- it feels so good– teetering on the edge of being too good. Too much. All at once it hits you like a tsunami. 

“Ok, ok, ok, ok!” You’re squealing and half trying to crawl away from him, but he holds you tight by the thigh and keeps up the speed of his fingers on your clit, his thrusts pummeling you into near blurry vision. 

He doesn’t care, he loves this, loves to see you like this. He whispered it to you once late at night in the darkness of the mattress store after he made you feel good over and over, again and again. Mister just chuckles at your useless, and half-hearted begging and his thrusts slow, but each one is deep and touches the furthest parts inside of you. 

It’s going to happen– your legs are shaking and your fingers dig into the sheets below you to hold on to something because it feels like you’re about to float away and explode all over again in such a different way. 

Joel grunts again, his thrusts becoming more erratic and clumsy, his fingers dip into the flesh of your upper thigh and you watch his knuckles go white. “C’mon– know ya’ got one more in there for me.” His voice is strained and you can tell he’s close too. 

And of course you have another one for him, you always do and he knows it. He knows how to draw it out of you and make you gush. 

The only sound you can make is a strained whimper as you come again, this time all over his lower stomach and pelvis. Joel groans loudly, and keeps his fingers strumming your clit rapidly while he knocks your leg off his shoulder and pulls out. 

He strokes himself with his free hand a couple of times, chasing his own release now that he’s given you more than you could ask for. He drags the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he groans again, his fingers finally give you some much needed relief as they leave your clit. The pad of his thumb presses into the top of your slit and he pushes up– pulling you taught as he rubs the tip of his cock against your red, puffy and swollen lips. He moans loudly, hips bucking forward, fucking his fist as he splashes his cum against your cunt. 

You watch in fascination and adoration as he rubs the head up and down as he throbs with each release. He milks himself, and coats the outside of your pussy in his spend before he gives the side of your thigh another slap, gentler and more appreciative this time. 

“You stay there,” he pants softly, and begins to crawl off the bed. 

All the good feelings leave you immediately and fear rips through you again, “Where ya’ goin’?” You ask, scrambling after him, hissing loudly when your shoulder screams in protest. 

Joel turns around, already stuffing himself back into his Jeans with his finger pointed at you sternly. “I said stay there,” he’s firm when he says it, and gives you a look to match. 

You stifle the whine that builds in your throat as he stares you down– unblinking as he waits for you to lay back down. “You comin’ right back?” You ask, settling yourself back into the soft pillows behind your back. 

Joel nods silently, and heads into the bathroom attached to his bedroom and disappears. 

Then you are all alone in his room.

You hear the water turn on, and then off and he’s back in the doorway, his shirt partially unbuttoned with one hand still working on it and then a wet washcloth in the other. 

“Open’em,” he orders gently, much more gentle than he had been only a moment ago. His tone is inviting, and calming– caring. 

You let your legs fall apart, and Joel looks up at you, catching your eye as he rubs you clean, not too rough and careful of your oversensitive parts. 

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, blinking slowly in admiration of his handsomeness, even with his messy hair and scratched face and black eye. That you gave him. “Sorry for hurtin’ ya’,” you add just as quietly even though you mean it. 

Joel shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head softly. “Know you didn’t mean it.” 

You nod your head, “Was just a lot goin’ on, ‘n I got all confused–”

“S’like you didn’t even see me,” he starts, finishing undoing the buttons on his shirt. “-but you were lookin’ right at me.” He’s done cleaning between your legs and tosses the washcloth into his hamper. 

You feel the embarrassment crawling up your chest and neck– growing behind your cheeks. There isn’t anywhere to run to, or to hide. There isn’t a distance far enough away that Mister can’t reach you now, and that’s terrifying. 

“Almost like you went somewhere else entirely,” he keeps talking as he pulls his flannel off, leaving him in a white t-shirt. “Did it earlier out in the hall.” He gives you a look, like he knows but he doesn’t really understand. “Where do you go?”

If only he knew.

Try and explain it to him. 

He’ll think you’re crazy. Crazier than he already thinks you are. 

You avoid his eyes, and look for something to cover your lower half with instead. Joel notices and goes to his drawer and tosses you a pair of his boxers. 

“I had pants from–”

“We are very grateful for Maria and her charity but you don’t need it– don’t need her clothes, or her help. I’ll getchya everything you need, don’t worry ‘bout that.” He shakes his head as he watches you struggle to put the boxers on with one hand, and laying down. 

“She was just bein’ nice–”

Joel cuts you off again, “She was very nice to let you shower ‘n borrow some clothes, yes.” He agrees with you, but you can tell there is more to come. And you’re right. “I’m fully capable of gettin’ you everything you could need, and so we don’t have to take nothin’ from Maria and her donation box–” he pauses for a moment and sighs. “--when it could go to someone who really needs it. Ya’ don’t really need it.” 

That sounds very nice of Joel, very kind and protective– but there doesn’t feel like there is any truth to his words. It’s confusing. 

Something in your brain is itching to ask why Maria doesn’t like Mister and why Mister doesn’t seem to care for Maria. But you don’t. You keep quiet and just nod your head. 

“Do you wanna come with me ‘n look for Pud?” Joel asks, pushing his hair back away from his face with one hand. He looks tired, and you feel badly for him– feel badly for how you had treated him the last week before the raiders came. 

“We can wait ‘till the mornin’ if you wanna go to sleep,” you offer softly, scooching over to one side of the bed to give him room. 

Joel’s eyes flick between you and the space next to you and he sighs softly. “I know seein’ him would make you feel better- probably sleep a lil’ better too,” he rubs the back of his neck, eyes drifting back to you after a second. “He’s here. I promise I didn’t leave him– or hurt him…” Joel shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do somethin’ like that to you or Pud.” 

Those words sound genuine. He means it, and you know he’s telling you the truth and that warms something inside of you, eases some of the ache and tension. 

“‘Kay. Can ya’ help me–” You don’t even have to finish before Joel is reaching over and helping you unclasp the sling your left arm is still in. He helps side your arm out, and then he unbuttons the shirt you have on. 

“Got a shirt you can wear t’bed,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against the curve of your tits as he slides the flannel off of you. 

He tosses the shirt you were wearing down to the floor with the jeans and heads back to his dresser. He comes back with a plain black tee and helps you slide it on as painlessly as possible. 

“Ready?” He asks, crawling into bed beside you– sleeping on the wet spot you made like it’s his preferred sleeping method. 

You nod at him, and push the comforter down with your feet and let him cover the both of you back up. He turns the light off on his bedside table, and reaches over doing the same to yours. 

When you sleep with Mister, you normally curl up into his side and he wraps an arm around you– but tonight that hurts and you opt to lay on your back. 

He’s next to you, throwing an arm over your waist and draping his leg over one of yours, pulling you close to him gently. “This good?” He asks softly in the dark. 

It’s more than good– but you still feel dread buried deep within you and it’s clawing its way through the fleshy parts inside. “Yeah,” you turn your head and press a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“If you try ‘n run away– I’ll come lookin' for ya’,” he whispers, kissing at your jaw as you turn your head to look at the ceiling. 

“I know,” you’re quiet like he is, running your fingers along his forearm. 

“And you won’t like what happens when I find ya’.” 

tag list: @probablyreadinsmut @lilac-boo @pedrospookie @ghoulettesinspace @itwasntimethatdidit40 @itsokbbygrlbutworsethistime @baronessvonglitter @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @joelmillerisapunk @pastelpinkflowerlife @tateypots @toxicrecs @the-orange-tabby-cat @gothcsz @almostempty @cubiclehoe @codenamekitten @shivispunk

^^ please let me know if I forgot you or you want to be added!!

[maxispixels]

We were here once - The skatepark

Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

3/6(?)

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

2.2k words

Ah London. You ran away from that city a long time ago, but there are things you can't escape forever. Feelings, for one. So you come back, tracing the fading footsteps of your past, hoping to see the boy you left behind.

Warnings: general teenage angst, self indulging Im14andthisisdeep

“But it’s okay that you’re going.

You need to. And I want you to have everything.”

You wanted to believe you were mistaken. After all, you had been gone for a long time, the kind of time that blurs edges and rewrites maps in your head. But no matter how many turns you took, how hard you tried to remember, you couldn’t find it.

You were sure it was there. Between the Fish & Chips place and the launderette, yes, that had to be it.

There was only a warehouse now. Ugly and blocky, the kind of building made for forklifts and fluorescent lights, not for kids with scraped knees and too much time. At most, the stairs railings could still be skated on. It stood exactly where the skatepark should’ve been, like some architectural act of erasure. 

Your heart swelled with grief, or disbelief, or some explosive cocktail of both. You didn’t want to believe it, but what else could you believe? They’d paved over the place like it was nothing, built a coffin of corrugated metal right on top of all those memories.

It felt blasphemous. To bury a place like that under concrete and storage racks, as if the skatepark hadn’t been a church, a holy ground for the kids around. A sanctuary built of asphalt and splintered plywood and the smell of melting rubber. They covered it like a grave, face down, no headstone.

Anger prickled at the edges of your sadness. 

It only slightly eased at the sight of the graffitis splashed across the iron sheets. Layers on layers, some fresh, some sun-faded, some half-scrubbed away. Proof that not everyone had forgotten. You jumped over the pitiful attempt at a fence, easily trespassing to look at the art closer. It was colorful and lively on top of the rusting plates. Your fingers traced the outline of a large ‘S’ spelling spider or something, and you were close enough to almost smell the fumes of spray paint. Maybe it was just your memories catching up to you.

It reminded you of your own tags under the ramps, shaky lines sprayed in the shadows, hands trembling with cold or adrenaline, you were never sure which. You remembered crawling under there on rainy days, when the park was empty, the air thick with wet concrete. You had to step over the shaky metal armatures like webs, sitting in between them. You left your trace, your symbols, small claims staked in fluorescent blues and cracked black. You wanted to leave something behind. A reminder that you were here, too.

That summer, Hobie invited you to hang out at the park as well. The breeze was light with laughter and asphalt dust. It was different than when you went alone. It was the kind of evening that stretched and stretched, long past sunset, until time felt liquid and endless. The heat clung to everything; the rails, the ramps, the black-painted ground, like the whole world had been wrapped in sweat and sunshine.

You spent most of your time standing, the ground too hot to sit, pacing, watching him. Kind of ignoring his other friends, but it was okay. He wasn’t the same with you and with them anyway. You were briefly introduced to some of them, maybe Rob, and Riri, and a happy bunch you didn’t bother to get to know, not wanting to get attached to any more people.

You didn’t know how to skate, not really, and you were too proud to fall on your butt in front of Hobie. 

Hobie, of course, couldn’t stand that.

Once or twice, he shoved his board toward you. It was decorated with stickers and drawings, the edges were rugged and chewed up, taped back, held together by the power of sheer will and spite, and his voice almost made you want to try. “C’mon mate. Give it a try. Worst thing that can happen is you break something you don’t need. Like a tooth. Or your dignity.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Pass. I’d rather not bite the curb.”

“That’s quitter talk,” he grinned. “C’mon,” his syllable dragged, “I’ll even teach you how to bail properly. Y’know, roll out, land like a stuntman. Real graceful.”

“I’m not interested in dying gracefully,” you shot back. “I’d rather not die at all.”

“Coward.” He shook his head dramatically. “Next you’ll tell me you wear knee pads.”

“You’re literally wearing knee pads.”

“That’s different. I’m stylish.”

He gave the board another push toward you, the wheels rattling over the cracks, but you didn’t take the bait.

“I’ll pass,” you said. “I’d rather keep my teeth.”

He squinted at you like he was calculating something, then raised his finger dramatically, like the world’s dumbest philosopher about to unveil some universal truth.

“Okay, but what if… you got on board and I held your hands, like some cheesy romance montage?” He waggled his eyebrows. “We could fall in love or fall on our arses, fifty fifty odds.”

“You’re daft.” You chuckled.

“But you’re laughing, so you’re daft-adjacent.”

“Laughing at you.”

“That still counts!”

You tried to glare at him, but the laughter made it impossible. It was the kind of ridiculous, pointless jokes, the ones that weren’t even funny. It was just enjoying each other’s company. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, still grinning. “But seriously, you sure you don’t wanna try? Just once?”

“Nah.” You kicked a loose pebble across the pavement. “I just wanna watch you.” The words slipped out too easily, like a truth you forgot to keep locked up.

He stilled for a second, like maybe he heard the weight behind it, but if he did, he let it go.

And shit, he looked so cool out of uniform. Ripped-sleeve punk band tee, arms all awkward and too-long like a lot of teenage boys, but somehow it worked on him. You tried not to look too hard at the way the sun caught the sharp lines of his biceps, or the flash of skin peeking above his belts when his shirt rode up.

The way he moved though, that you couldn’t look away from. The way he carved smooth lines into the world like it was the easiest thing. You wanted to memorize it. To trap his motion in your brain, hold onto it like it might mean something later (it did) (it meant everything).

Your eyes followed him, the flicker of muscle under his skin, the way his arms floated almost gracefully as he balanced, the effortless way his wheels kissed the edges of ramps. He moved like gravity was more of a suggestion than a rule. Like he trusted the air to catch him if the ground didn’t.

And the worst part? It wasn’t even for show. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just in it, loving the rhythm of it, the challenge, the feeling of cutting through time and space like it belonged to him.

You swore in some other world, he found a way to fly.

And now, standing here, years later, you feel like the biggest idiot in the world. He never cared about looking stupid. Not once. You could’ve let him hold your hands, let him teach you how to wobble across the concrete. Could’ve made an excuse to fall straight into his arms and laugh about it after. He wouldn’t have judged you. He probably would’ve found it hilarious. You rested your forehead against the cold wall.

At some point, when the sun was too high for any kind of exercise, even in London, you both had crawled under the ramp for a break. He flopped down beside you, his head tilted back to look up at the underside of the ramp. Tags, shitty drawings, great drawings. Names, whispers, all the people there before you. 

He pointed a finger at one tag in particular, a messy, half-legible scrawl in dripping blue. “That one’s sick,” he said, tracing over the edges of the letters like they might spell something if you squinted hard enough. “Feels real, y’know? And I really like the style. See that curve there? The energy?”

Your heart swelled in your throat. It was yours. You knew that. But you didn’t say anything. Pride and embarrassment collided in your throat, making your words thick and heavy like tar. You wanted to claim it, to hear what he’d say if he knew, but you were scared, too. Scared he’d laugh, or think it was stupid. Scared to want his approval that badly.

“You think so?” was all you managed.

“Yeah. It’s got… I dunno. It’s just neat.” He grinned, and the glint off his lip ring caught the sun, a tiny spark you’ll never forget.

“Yeah, yeah. I think it’s… Cool. I guess.” You shrugged like you hadn’t been quietly living off that comment for the following years. Hell, you wouldn’t have kept up with the hobby if it wasn't for that one moment.

You wished you told him, now. It could’ve been one more thing you had in common, one more thing to bond over, alongside modding consoles and swapping burned CDs. 

There was this one time — maybe that same day, maybe another, memory made a mess of time — when the air caught wrong.

It wasn’t even a dramatic trick. It was merely a turn taken too sharp, a wheel clipping the edge of a crack, and suddenly Hobie was eating pavement, the sound of skin scraping concrete sharp enough to make you wince.

He grunted, hissed through his teeth, and before you could think, you were already kneeling beside him, half your bag spilled across the ground, your markers, your electronics, your tickets. Your hands shook as you unscrewed your water bottle, pouring too much too fast over his palms, water running pink where it hit raw skin.

Your heart was loud, louder than the train rumbling somewhere in the distance, all adrenaline and something else you didn’t have a name for yet.

“Shit—” he tried to hide his wince, “fuck, I’m gonna sue the wind. Proper betrayal.” 

You snorted despite yourself, but you saw the way his eyebrows pulled together, his breath catching around the edges. A lot of things you’ve forgotten, but not the look of pain in his eyes.

“Shut up. Stop moving.” You scolded him, voice trembling slightly, which made it a lot less intimidating than you hoped.

“Oi oi, don’t start panickin’.” He wiggled his fingers at you, water dripping from them onto his jeans. “I’ve had much worse — see that one?” He jerked his chin toward a scar along his forearm, grinning like it was a badge of honor. “Got that from a fight with a bin, believe it or not.”

You frowned, not at the story, but at the mental image of him bleeding any more than he already was.

“Hobie.” His name came out softer than you meant, and you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. Just needed him to stop, to sit still, to let you take care of him.

He didn’t say anything, but you swore for a moment, he couldn’t look you in the eyes, his gaze fleeting and nebulous, hovering somewhere near your hands, your knees, anywhere but your face.

You remembered the sun burning down the side of your face. The scuff of your shoes against the hot pavement. The distant sound of a train, calling for you, passing behind the fence. The way his smile shrank, softened, not gone, just quieter, like maybe this meant something to him too. How even then, you couldn’t fully enjoy the moment, knowing you had already decided to leave.

You tried to play it cool, but your hand stayed where it was, wrapped around his wrist. His hand stayed too, resting easy on your knee. Neither of you moved first.

You don’t remember how it ended. That part’s gone, eaten by the wispy statics filling the gaps in your memory. Maybe one of his friends shouted his name from across the park. Maybe you cracked a joke and stood up too fast. Maybe you both just got scared. You chose to imagine that you never let go, your silhouettes still holding each other, like nuclear shadows now tucked somewhere between a shelf and a cardboard box.

But tonight, the ramp was gone. The tags were gone. The whole skatepark was gone, and you were left standing in front of a warehouse, heart too full of ghosts, wondering how a place that once held so much could vanish without a trace. 

You pulled a marker from your pocket and pressed the tip to the wall, shaking it till ink flowed. First, just a moniker. A familiar claim, something simple. Muscle memory. You had gotten better over the years, left your nickname in cities that barely knew you, carved proof of your existence into brick and metal, under bridges and on top of buildings. But as you kept going, the words came faster, sentences spilling out like threats, like prayers, like something owed. A message to the pulsing center of Camden, to the past, to your inner child.

It was time to take London back in broad daylight.

You hated this city, but worse than hating it was the thought that it might forget you.

That he might’ve forgotten you.

Tags: @hoe-bie (assuming you still want to be tagged?)

[globalautomationltd]

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[oneforthemunny]

the apple blurb from the crypt (funsonmunson february 2023 lol) <33 finally recovered and being added to the masterlist for all the janitor!eddie x teacher!reader lovers.

janitor!eddie is always leaving an apple on teacher!reader’s desk every morning.

he gets there early before her to do some extra maintenance- the school had given him a raise to do both so they wouldn’t have to hire someone else. it started as a joke between you two. eddie grinned when you’d brought an apple to lunch one day, playful glint in his eye. “an apple a day, huh?” he asked.

steve snorted. “that’s a doctor, munson.” he rolled his eyes.

you shrugged, biting into your apple. “I like apples, ok?” you giggled. “guess I was made to be a teacher, huh? the stereotype doin’ it for you?”

eddie couldn’t stop smiling. so every day, when he’d stop at the gas station by the trailer park, he’d get his usual pack of camels and an apple. he’d place it on your desk, scribbling on a spare piece of paper a little note that left you blushing when you’d find it.

he’d pass by your classroom, catching your eyes when you’d see him, smiling and nodding towards your apple. later, when he’d take you out, you’d kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “thanks for the apple.” you’d mutter. “it was delicious.” you’d let your bottom lip graze over his cheek, sending a hot blush down his neck and cheeks.

eddie wanted that reaction always, so he’d bring you apple after apple, proudly propping them on your desk each day with a little note.

‘you’re the apple of my eye, sweetheart. have a good day. -ed’

you’d giggle, tucking them into your purse. you’d saved everyone, reading them later when you missed him, heart fluttering in your chest.

one day, eddie walks into his ‘office’- a storage closet with a chair and an old desk, a rack to hang his jacket. there where he put his lunch pail was a small tin of hand balm, ‘for working hands’ it read.

eddie’s heart swelled. he’d complained about the blisters and callouses from working at the school mixed with his guitar making his hands rough, the cold cracking them and making them bleed. when he held his hand in yours, you’d ran a finger over the cracked, raw skin with a sympathetic pout.

eddie picked up the tin, the best folded card on top reading:

‘a little of this cream keeps the callouses away (or that’s what the store clerk told me). hope this helps you my hard working man. xoxo’

eddie slipped it into his front pocket, a dopey grin on his face. he dug his fingers into the balmy substance, rubbing it over his hands before reaching into his lunch pail, grabbing the shiny, red apple out and starting towards your class room.

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 8

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

MDNI

Warnings: No warnings for this part.

Authors Note - This chapter is all about the family.

MASTERLIST

They all followed Simon into the locker room and saw it was a big room with eight large cages each had a white board on the front with their names on it. Y/N and Simon’s cages were next to each other and they both went in. There was a sink, a mirror, a small rack for clothes and a locker with a keypad in each one. 

The boys each went into their areas and saw a small shelf with things that were left for them. John looked at his shelf and saw a case of cigars and made a mental note to thank Laswell later. 

Simon had changed by this point into jeans and a black t-shirt. He was looking at the mask covering the lower half of his face in the mirror, most of his scars hidden. This was it. This was the moment he was most afraid of. He lifted a shaky hand up to his mask and then stopped. Behind him Y/N walked into his area and put her hand on his shoulder. 

“You can leave it on if you want. For now.” 

He shook his head and looked back into the mirror, unhooking the mask and letting it fall to the floor. He turned to see Soap, Gaz and Price all looking at him. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest and she was tempted to step in front of him to shield him from their stares.  A few more moments passed and then Soap chuckled, breaking the tension. 

“Well fuck Ghost, I expected you tae be well ugly but you’re actually quite handsome. Good thing you wear th’ mask or I wouldna have a shot with the ladies.” 

“You don’t have a shot with them normally, has nothin to do with me wearin a mask” 

With that everyone relaxed and Y/N laughed while rubbing out the ache she had been feeling out of her chest.

“Alright enough flirtin, let's get going yeah?” Simon joked, smiling for the first time in days. 

They all closed up their cages and filed out of the room to the hallway. Simon pointed at the three remaining doors saying the one on the right was the armory and the other two weren’t important for the time being. They made their way back up the staircase and out the cold storage to be standing back in the basement of the farm. 

Simon turned and went to the door he had been staring at earlier. When Gaz went to follow  however, Y/N grabbed his arm.

“Si’s going to his own homecoming for a bit first. We’re this way.” She motioned in the opposite direction. 

Gaz turned to see Simon had already disappeared behind the door. They followed Y/N back up the stairs to the entrance and then turned right down a hallway with a pocket door at the end. Before opening it she stopped.

“Just a heads up, Momma Lynn is a bit intense. So is Brooke. Just don’t take offence when they’re blunt.” 

With that she slowly opened the door and walked into the house. Right in front of the door was an open space with a sliding glass door to their right and a small table with nick knacks. To their left was a couch, a coffee table and two chairs. They turned into that area and saw to the left of that a kitchen

“Momma?” Y/N called out  

From the kitchen they heard the shuffling of feet and a tall, thin, blonde woman came walking up to them. 

“My baby girl” She enveloped Y/N into a tight hug. 

Y/N buried her face into her mom’s neck and let out a sob, everything she had been carrying catching up to her. 

“Oh my girl. We’ve missed you so much.” 

“I’ve missed you too momma.” Y/N whispered, tightening her grip. 

After a few minutes they pulled away from each other. 

“Let me look at you.” Momma Lynn pushed her back, keeping her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “You’re pale.”

“Not true.” Y/N rolled her eyes. 

“And you looked malnourished.” 

“Also not true.” 

“You look tired.” 

“Low hanging fruit momma, I’m always tired.” 

They both laughed and then her mom hugged her again. 

“You look sad.” She whispered in Y/N’s ear and Y/N just nodded. 

She pulled out of the hug and wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt before turning and facing the guys. 

“Momma let me introduce you to our team. This is Kyle Garrick.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you ma'am, we’ve heard great things about you.” Kyle said and stuck out his hand. 

“Sorry honey, in this house we hug.” Momma Lynn pulled Kyle into a big hug. When she was done she pulled back and looked him over. “You’re just as charming as Y/N said. Oh and call me Momma Lynn, not ma’am.” 

Gaz blushed and smiled at Y/N who shrugged. 

“Momma this is Johnny MacTavish.” 

“Pleasure to meet ya Momma Lynn.” Johnny took her hand and kissed the back of it. 

Momma Lynn laughed and pulled him into a hug. 

“And you’re just as much trouble as Y/N said.” She chuckled. 

“How come Kyle git’s charmin and I git trouble?” He asked Y/N who laughed. 

“Cause you are.” 

“If it helps, you’re far more handsome than Si said you are.” Momma Lynn put her hand on Johnny’s cheek causing him to blush, 

“It does help.” He said proudly. 

She then looked over at John curiously. 

“Momma, this is Captain Price.” Y/N tried to keep her voice flat. 

“Hello ma’am. Call me John. You have a beautiful home.” 

“So you’re the famous Captain Price. My kids think the world of you John.” She said, pulled him into a hug and then whispered in his ear “Thanks for taking care of them.” She pulled back and gave him a wink. “Now what did I say about calling me ma’am.”

“Apologies Momma Lynn.” 

She looked him over again and then looked back at Y/N with her hands still on his shoulders. 

“He is handsome.” 

“Mother.” Y/N warned and she laughed. 

“Alright, alright. You guys must be starving and if you're anything like my Si, you’ve got an appetite. We made lots of food, just go sit down at the kitchen table and dish up.” 

Y/N went into the kitchen with her mom to see her grandma at the stove. 

“Grandma.” Y/N smiled and hugged her from behind. 

“Hello my dear.” She then turned around and put her hands on the sides of Y/N’s face. “You look pale.” 

“I really don’t.” Y/N chuckled. 

“Well you should eat. It’ll be good for you to get some home cooking in you.” 

“I will in a minute.” Y/N turned to her mom “Momma where are my pups.” 

“In the living room, in their pen. They kept getting underfoot so we had to kick them out of the kitchen.” 

Y/N left the kitchen and headed to the two french doors that led into the living room. She opened them and her eyes scanned the room, landing on a small pen in the corner of the room with two small Chihuahuas in it. One was chubby with orange fur and the other was skinny with black fur. 

“Hi babies.” She said in a high pitched voice as she made her way over to them. 

When they heard her voice both of them started barking excitedly and jumping against the walls of the pen. She went over and sat down in front of the pen before opening the gate. They both ran out to her and started crawling all over her barking excitedly. 

“Oh I missed you boys.” She was petting them and laughing as they tried to lick her face. 

“I remember that one.” John said behind her and kneeled down. 

Odin sniffed the air and then when he recognized John’s scent he went straight over to him putting his paws on his knees. 

“Hi little buddy.” John picked him up and started petting his head. “He looks good.”

“Yeah, he’s been doing really well here. His brother here has been showing him the ropes.” 

John looked at the chubby dog in Y/N’s arms and smiled. 

“And what’s his name?” 

“Chew Barka.” Y/N replied, causing John to laugh. “We call him Chewy.” 

 “That’s a great name. What’s his story?” 

“I was on holiday and heard that there was a pup at a kill shelter that was about to be euthanized because they couldn’t find a home for him. He was ten and had some health issues. So I went to see him and instantly fell in love. I would’ve rescued him regardless but it just so happened it was love at first sight.” 

She smiled down at Chewy who began trying to lick her face again causing her laugh. She looked over at John and watched as he was petting Odin, telling him what a good boy he was. It took her back to the day she realized she was in love with him. She still ached for him and seeing him like this made her melt a bit. 

He looked at her then and when their eyes met it felt like it was before. Seeing her looking at him like that made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t want to move, in case she went back to the looks of hurt and indifference she had been giving him lately. 

“I could hear those dogs barking all the way downstairs.” Simon said behind them 

Suddenly it was gone and Y/N turned her attention to Simon. John placed Odin on the floor softly and stood up.  

“And you had to run up here and see your favourite pups?” Y/N teased 

“No!” Simon laughed. “Maybe.” 

He bent down and both pups ran up to him giving him the same treatment they gave Y/N. 

Behind him a tall, thin woman with long straight black hair and bright blue eyes exited a stairway John hadn’t noticed before, holding an adorable little blonde baby girl.

Y/N got up and walked right up to her and pulled her and Clara into a big hug. 

“Hi sis.” Ava hugged her back with one arm. “God I missed you.” 

“I missed you too babe.” 

They held each other for a few minutes and then Y/N pulled back and wiped tears from her face.

“Now. Let me hold my gorgeous niece.” 

John watched as Y/N held her niece with a giant smile on her face. He felt something tug at him, thinking what it would be like to see her as a mother. 

Simon looked up at him and then over at Y/N. He had seen the way they were looking at each other before he spoke and now he was seeing the way John was looking at her. He was still insanely angry with John for everything that happened in the last few days; however, he also wanted Y/N to be happy and if that meant fixing things with John maybe that was what had to happen. 

He looked over at John who then made eye contact with him. John thought for sure Simon was going to glare at him or tell him to back off but what he didn’t expect was for him to nod at him. 

Ava glanced over at John and then back at Y/N

“So is that John, like THE John.” She whispered

Y/N nodded her head trying to keep her emotions down. 

“He’s hot.” 

“That he is.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably. 

“And big! Like he’s a big guy but he also has a big aura, you know.” 

Y/N looked at Ava and chuckled. 

“Well he’s single if you want to ask him out.” Y/N teased 

“Shut up. I’m just saying I see the appeal. He’s very manly. Looks like he could cut down a tree.”

“I think mommy needs to spend some alone time with daddy.” Y/N bounced Clara on her hip causing Ava to laugh. 

“Alright alright. I’m just letting you know I approve.” 

Y/N didn’t know what to say so she forced a smile and nodded. Thankfully Gaz walked into the room.

“Y/N your mom told me to tell you to get your butt in the kitchen and start eating because she’s not going to leave it out all day. She’s a bit terrifying. I’m scared to go back without you.” 

Y/N, Ava and Simon laughed then Simon stood up and motioned for Y/N to pass Clara over to him. 

“Alright let’s go see your crazy nana.” The group walked back to the kitchen and saw Johnny with a heaping plate in front of him. He looked at Y/N silently pleading as her mom put another sandwich on his plate. 

“Momma, look who’s here! It’s Simon.” She called out and her mom practically dropped the plate and turned to go to Simon. 

Johnny mouthed a grateful thank you to Y/N. 

Without saying any Momma Lynn pulled Simon into a big hug squeezing him tight. Ava carefully took Clara out of his arms and he wrapped both arms around her. 

“Momma I missed you.” 

“I missed you too sweetheart.” She began to tear up

Y/N sat down at the table beside Johnny and took some of the food off his plate, putting it on her own. He smiled at her and popped a baby carrot into his mouth. 

Momma Lynn then pulled Simon back to do the same inspection she had given Y/N. 

“She’s going to tell you you’re pale.” Y/N called over as she grabbed a sandwich 

“I’m always pale, I wear a mask.” Simon replied 

“Well you need to get some sun while you’re home.” Momma Lynn reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “My handsome boy.” 

Simon leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“Alright I should make some introductions.” He leaned over and took Clara back from Ava. “Ava this is Johnny, Gaz and John.” 

The guys all stood up and Ava smiled while she shook all their hands. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you guys. I’m glad to finally put faces to names.” 

“And this is Clara.” Simon had a huge grin on his face and it made Y/N happy seeing him as a proud dad. 

“She’s a right cutie isn’t she?” Johnny reached forward and took Clara’s hand, shaking it. 

“Yeah Simon she’s a beautiful little girl” John added and smiled at him and Ava. 

“I still can’t believe you’re a dad.” Kyle chuckled

Everyone then sat back down at the table and started eating. Before Momma Lynn sat down she addressed the group. 

“Alright while I have you all here I’ll let you know the sleeping arrangements. I’ve moved everyone around so we all fit. So Brooke, the twins and Emma are going to share Emma’s room. Charlie, Meadow and Ky are in Charlie's room, Johnny and Kyle are going to share Brooke’s room and then John and Y/N can stay in her room. I know it’s a bit squished but does that work for everyone? ”  

John looked over at Y/N and watched her instantly tense. He was about to offer to take the couch instead but Y/N spoke up. 

“Yes momma. Sounds good.” 

John was shocked into silence. He glanced at Y/N who wasn’t making eye contact with him instead she was chatting with Johnny, and laughing. Maybe that look they shared earlier meant something and she was willing to listen to him now. Maybe they could put this behind them. He felt hopeful and smiled. 

[laserbobcat]

We got water back! It's cold tho. But I could clean most of the mold in the bathroom, and before that I tidied 80% of the bedroom. Wish I had taken pictures because I could flex, it's really night and day. I used to be a cleaning person, and I binge watch hoard cleaning videos, God prepared me for this.

My uncle's not a hoarder, he's ADHD tho. The mess is because a lot of stuff is leftover from my grandmother, and he takes things and put them down everywhere and suddenly it's piles and he doesn't know how to handle it. He already donated a lot of things. I told him what ADHD was and he was like yup. That's me.

Having someone help you focus while you're going through your shit and sort/organize it helps immensely. I made him buy transparent boxes, shelves and a rack to put above the sink to hang tools and pans.

If you're messy, my main advice is: you probably lack structure. The quick overwhelm is probably because you have limited surfaces and storage. It gets buried quick. Get boxes, get shelves. Get little baskets to put your uncategorized mess. A basket on the table and counter is PRIMORDIAL. When you clean the table, you remove trash, you put dishes in the sink, you store food. And whatever the fuck is left goes in the table basket. Nail clippers business cards, bottles openers, pens, TV remotes... and then the table is free and easy to clean, you just have one basket to move around.