#Her overall [Siren] put-together look?.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram. 

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse. 

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched. 

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else? 

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer. 

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.” 

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom. 

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied. 

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat. 

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out. 

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth. 

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.” 

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy. 

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.” 

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was. 

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary. 

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly. 

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol. 

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

 You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.” 

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently. 

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name. 

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person. 

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown. 

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!” 

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area. 

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

  “He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow. 

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile. 

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face. 

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view. 

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out. 

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud. 

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly. 

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[sjswrites]

The Powerful Women of Marvel

Summary: Sometimes, it's not acting. These women are real heroes, even without the costumes.

Warnings: Abuse/toxic/stalker ex, cursing, just overall angst.

A/n: This one-shot is heavily inspired by a movie called Darling with Anna Kendrick. I saw a scene like this and knew I had to do it with my comfort characters. Forever one of my favorites.

After a read-through of one of the biggest Avengers movies, we all stepped outside, taking in all the excitement of the script and overall direction of the movie. Only women. The Powerful Women of Marvel. There I was in the middle of it. The original, Scarlett Johansson. The next in command and my sister, Lizzie Olsen. Then, there were the newbies. Florence Pugh and Hailee Steinfeld. (Yes, I know there's more, but that’s a lot of people. Please forgive me.)

As we got outside the building, another buzz came from my bag. It had been ringing since we started. Digging through my purse, I emerged with my phone. My feet became one with the pavement.

“Baby?” Lizzie called. “Everything okay?”

“Fuck.” I took off as I shoved my phone into her hands.

“What happened?” Scarlett asked as the girls gathered around.

“Who’s Stalker?” Florence asked while eyeing over the 23 missed calls and 57 text messages. The last one was a photo.

Lizzie held down the message to reveal the photo. A sledgehammer propped up against the bumper of a car. “Shit.” Lizzie took off as the other girls confusingly followed.

I ran as hard as my legs could take me towards the blaring car alarm. As I approached, a man with a sledgehammer took a hefty swing at my side mirror as it skittered across the parking lot. “Hey!” His eyes flew over his shoulder to me.

“About time you showed up.” He threw the handle onto the ground and marched over to me. “Let’s go.” His hand gripped my arm. “Get in the car.”

“What the fuck? Let go of me.” My arms slipped out of his grasp only to be put in a more secure grip

“We are going home now.” He growled in my ear.

“Like hell.” My knee flew into him as he fell to his knees, clutching his precious family jewels.

“You fucking bitch.” He snapped as footsteps quickly approached.

“Leave. Now.” I towered over him.

His anger softened. “You don’t want that. You know it. You love me.” He slowly got to his feet and his hand took mine. His voice. The look… They fooled me once, but never again.

“Babe.” Lizzie called out while his eyes pleaded with me. “Let’s go.” Lizzie slowly approached.

“Get in the fucking car.” He lowered his voice and pulled me closer. His fears now taking over and manifesting as anger again.

“No.” My hand slipped free from his grasp. “Fuck you. If you loved, you wouldn’t have-” His hand came around and struck a fire across my cheek. It wasn’t long until he ended up on floor. I turned back as the blonde was now shaking her hand.

“Fuck that hurt.” Scarlett quickly dragged Florence away as Lizzie came to get me.

“Baby, please.” He stared at me as Lizzie kept whispering in my ear to leave. “You said that we were meant to be. That I was your last. Please.” He got to his feet as Hailee stepped up.

She almost had a whole head on him as she looked down at him. “She said no.” She barked at him.

“Babe,” He pleaded as he sidestepped Hailee. “You know me. You know it’s not me. Come home. Please. It can be how it was before. Just me and you. Together. Like we always planned.” Hailee followed him, keeping herself between him and I.

The sounds of sirens rang off in the distance as he looked over his shoulder. “You bitches! Which one of you did this? Huh?!” Scarlett and Florence stepped up behind Hailee while Lizzie tucked me behind her. “Just let me talk to her.”

“I think you’ve done enough.” Scarlett said. “You should probably leave while you can.”

He scoffed. “Or what?”

“You don’t want to know.” She flipped a switch. At this point, he wasn’t talking to Scarlett Johansson. He was talking to Natasha Romanoff. The sirens got louder as they climbed up the parking lot. “Oops. Too late.” I caught the side angle of the famous Natasha Romanoff smirk.

It wasn’t long before the cops showed up and handcuffed him. After the secure clicks of the cuffs, Lizzie quickly turned around to me and hugged me. My walls came crumbling down as I melting into her arms. The emotions completely overtook me as I sobbed in her arms. My bodyweight outweighed the strength of my legs as I fell to my knees. Lizzie fell with me as she held me.

“You’re okay, baby. He’s gone. He’s never going to hurt you again. I promise.” She whispered as she peppered kissed on my head. It wasn’t long until three other bodies came around me and hugged me.

“Oh my God.” The four of them pulled away as I looked around for Florence. I finally found her as I grabbed her arm and dragged down to her green and purple knuckles.

“It’s fine.” She pulled her hand away. “Are you okay?” The concern in her eyes made my heart drop as I looked away at all of them.

“Why would you do that? You barely even know me. We just meant hours ago. I just-”

“We’re heroes for a living.” Scarlett said. “On and off screen.”

“Plus, he was a total dick.” Hailee said as we all laughed.

The funny, hopefully moment faded from my lips and onto my hands. “I don’t know what to do now.” Lizzie put her hands over mind. I shook my head. “I should’ve done something sooner. I should’ve told you. I should’ve-”

“He should’ve never laid his hands on you.” Lizzie hooked her finger under my chin as I looked up at her. Her cold hand brushed over the burning fire of a handprint on my face. I could almost hear the sizzling of cold meeting hot. “This isn’t your fault.” My lips quivered as I quickly tucked it between my teeth. “It’s not your fault, baby. It never was.”

[the-fluff-piece]

Trafalgar law, 11, 😏

(is that how you do it? 😭😭)

Hello Anonymus,

As long I understand what you mean, you're doing it right.

This story is part of my follower milestone event

Here's

Siren song

Law is just moping around the ship like the emo kid he is - when his ears hear some enticing sounds

The polar tang had been caught in some very strange streams for the past days. The engine was periodically overheating and Bepo tried to make sense of everything. Law had left the bear crying over his sea charts as he failed to grasp how to escape the stream and proceed.

For most of the crew, it meant boredom. Law decided to read up on infectious deseases of the grand line and sat down at his desk for some nice, quiet study.

Time flies when he's really focusing, without even realizing it, night came and he had to turn on the lights. When he got up, stretching and yawning, he heard something, faint and distant, like a hum. An unusual sound on a submarine was always worth an investigation - Law decided to stretch his legs and see what's up.

The ship was quiet, most of the crew had come together in the mess hall for card games. Law passed the sound of laughter and left it behind, moving toward the faint sound. Slowly he could identify it as someone singing, a woman's voice, a calm and dreamlike song. He was drawn towards the source of the sound like he was towed.

He tracked it to a door - it was a work room for repairs. Law swallowed before he opened the door. He peeked in - it was Y/n, sitting at the workbench, mending her overalls. She had thread and needle in hand and stitched something onto the white fabric. She hadn't heard him, she sang and worked uninterrupted. Law didn't make a sound, he simply stared at her. Warm light illuminated her face and hair, giving the scene a cozy and comfortable atmosphere. In that moment, she looked and sounded like a serene angel.

Her song stopped, Law blinked like he was released from some spell. She began putting away the sewing kit - and gasped in surprise when she saw Law standing in the door.

"Oh, hi! Was I too loud?"

He shook his head.

"Uhm, ok. I'm done here, you have everything to yourself."

He nodded. He saw that she didn't bother changing the boiler suit, she sat on the chair in her panties and a tank top. Hard swallow.

He yanked his own shirt off, revealing his naked torso, and handed it to her.

"Could you mend that, too?" He asked flatly.

"Uhm, sure, where's the hole?" She inquired, sitting down again.

"Uhm" he looked at the unscathed shirt in his hands.

"Just here" he said and poked a whole with his finger into the fabric and handed it back to her.

"Strange place for a hole" she said when she looked at the random placement on the chest.

But Law's insidious plan worked, she started mending it, humming a quiet, beautiful song.

You

You were a little suspicious of what game he was playing, but he graced you with the sight of impeccable chest muscles and tattoos, so you let that slide.

The damage was minor, you had it fixed in a minute and handed him his shirt back. You tried to get up and get in your boiler suit again when he tossed the shirt aside and began unbuttoning his pants.

"Would you fix these, too?" He handed you his fashionably torn jeans, leaving him in his underwear. You had seen his upper body a few times already, but this was a new level of exposed flesh, even for him. Tan skin covered his sculpted muscles. His low hanging underwear showed you the full extend of his happy trail and gave you a glimpse of what lay beneath.

You tore your stare off his body and studied the pants - the holes were enormous, but it was part of the style. You were sure that he bought them like this.

"Law, you realize these are supposed to be like that? You have worn these for years now."

"Yeah, I want them whole now" he answered nonchalantly.

"I...I can't fix them, there is not enough fabric to sew together" you answer as you hand them back to him. He tossed them in the same corner as his shirt and proceeds to look at you, making you painfully aware that your nor fully clothed yourself.

"Than...just sing a little more, just a minute" he said.

"I'll try." you said, unsure if this would work like that. You were a shower singer, not a stage singer, and right now you sat without your pants in front of staring, hot, half naked guy. Closing your eyes, you cleared your throat and sang another song from your home.

It worked, after a time, when you had pushed the thought of your hot captain to the back of your mind and you got into the flow like you were alone.

When you opened your eyes again you were staring directly into two blue eyes, inches from your face. Law had crouched down in front of you and now laid his hands on your knees.

"Beautiful" he breathed.

His hands wander up and down your naked legs while his hooded eyes gazed up at you. Carefully, you placed your hands on his, causing him to smile.

"Wait" he said, getting up. He went to the door and you heard the click of the door lock. He turned around with a wicked grin on his face.

"Now, I'll make you sing a little more"

----------

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And, as always, comment, reblog and tell me what you like or don't like

[applepies-and-starlight]

Was Ishmael always your favorite from day one, or did Canto 5 swing things in her direction?

So, she wasn't like, my favorite favorite day 1, but I did have a higher opinion of her compared to the rest of the cast (barring Ryoshu and Sinclair as food name oomf was making propaganda about them like a madman), her initial demeanor also gained her extra points because I generally gravitate towards characters that Actually Respect The MC/PC i won't say no to unhinged characters can we at least pretend to be civil during work hours and not treat me like a dog? It makes me sad :(

And then Canto V dropped.

Normally, this wouldn't be. That Big of a deal, if it was in literally any other position I'd just go "oh cool, so that's what happened" and moved on.

Problem: there was probably at least 20 different sleeper agents in my brain. And all of them involved Azur Lane

(Context for confused LCB moots: Azur Lane is Arknights' weirder, hornier cousin set somewhere in a WW2-adjacent period where all of your units are warships given human form known as Shipgirls (official term: KAN-SEN) and you fight against a robotic menace known as the Sirens)

(Editing Apple: putting this under cut because... oh lird. It's long.)

I had this like, entire ramble I wanted to go off on but at some point I didn't know where to take it lmao, but the basic idea is the following:

I got into Azur Lane last year because of spite and (eldritch-ish) pirates (Hello Royal Fortune!)

Got dragged into lore rabbit hole

Got convinced to read eldritch apocalypse fanfiction of Azur Lane (Whispers of Saturn)

Loved the fanfic a lot, started making Pirate shipgirl ocs based off the fic's concept (eldritch creachurr)

First iteration of Whaleship Essex created; whale-like mermaid-siren figure who has albinism and is a little Too trigger happy with whale murder

Made her look like Ishmael LCB because haha funny reference

Devs went fuckshit crazy with the anniversary event; Marco Polo was raining the wrath of God (who, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, was a false god), the god in question was fucking up the world with a weird white membrane (which, now that I think about it, kinda acted like pallidification), the french were getting back together, everything is great

I try to add the false god(s) into the lore timeline of my Azur Lane shit, cue updates happening to Whaleship Essex where she's the only survivor of her group and knows that someone else also survived but blames them for not being able to Do Something about it

New Pirate event happens

Devs stole 2 of my OCs and made them canon (hi, Hind; hi, Galley) and they also happen to be close to Whaleship Essex while they were my OCs

I work around what the Devs have given me and decide that they're in a state of kinda died-but-not-really (long story)

(Note that I came up with all this oc stuff around like. November or something.)

Overall my hype for The Sea™ and eldritch horrors have reached an all time high

Canto V releases; I learn about it while trying to make a Limbus AU for Murder Drones

I decide to check it out because. Water.

Doomed sailor yuri

"Holy fucking shit did I just predict Canto V with my OC that's completely unrelated in every way except for the fact that she looks A Lot like Ishmael???? What?????"

Present time; I have been stuck in the Limbus hole ever since (and apparently my brain has delusionally stuck itself onto our favorite ginger sailor so uh. hi fellow ishmael irls!)

Sooooo... yeah

Basically we wouldn't be here if the stars didn't align at Halloween 2022 and Manjuu + Yostar gave the AL fans someone who isn't a pirate

[specialinterestshows]

A continuation of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic.

Warnings for this section: Dirty talk

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 28 of ?): Siren Song (Caught In A Riptide)

Drying yourself off, you walk over to your closet to put on another outfit. Securing the towel over your chest, you use both hands to peruse your selection of clean clothes, smiling as you glance at your bandaged knuckles. Thinking of Rhea, you listen to the steady sound of the shower for a moment and swear you can hear faint singing. You shake your head, now concerned you hadn’t slept as well as you’d thought and might be hearing things as a result.

Grabbing a few things you thought would look good together, you turn to set them on your bed so you can get dressed carefully. By the time you’re fully clothed, the sound of the water has stopped and you’re sure you hear something this time. You walk past the bathroom door, listening intently and manage to catch Rhea singing “sweet dreams are made of this.” Suddenly, the handle begins to turn and you scramble over to sit on the couch, wincing at the pain as you habitually try to cross your ankles.

The singing had stopped as soon as the door opened, changing instead to humming for a few bars as Rhea rounded the corner. Wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping, she sees you and immediately walks over to give you a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” she was referring to your injuries, but you decided to share more.

“Lucky to have spent the last few days together,” - you give her a kiss - “less than thrilled that you’re leaving, but overall? So happy to know I’m going to see you again, eventually.”

Rhea smiles, leaning in for a kiss you pucker your lips for, but lands on your nose instead.

“I meant your hand and ankle,” she says, genuine concern on her face, “Are the bandages too tight?”

“They’re perfect,” you assure her, “Thank you.”

Rhea visibly relaxes and gives you one more peck before walking over to her suitcase. Your eyes follow her as she crouches in front of the mess of clothes, looking for something to wear for the day.

“Might as well give up the search now,” you say, feeling clever, “I guarantee there’s nothing in there that’ll make you look better than you do naked.”

Rhea playfully threw a shirt in your direction, making you giggle as it landed nearby. After laying out a few pieces of clothing, she let her towel fall in one smooth motion, winking as you watch her.

“Unfair,” you complain in response to her wiggling her hips, a slightly sadistic grin on her face. Fidgeting with your phone, you decide to ask, “Mind if I get a picture? I don’t have any nudes of yours.”

“Go for it,” Rhea says, posing for you. Opening your camera app, you snap a photo, biting your lip. Looking up from the phone, you realize that, gorgeous as she was on camera, the image couldn’t possibly compare to reality.

After she was dressed, Rhea took out a makeup bag and sat next to you on the couch.

“Music?” you offer, setting it up once you get a nod in response. Sitting back down, you stretch out on the couch, legs laying across Rhea’s lap. She gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before continuing with her routine. Looking on, you were impressed with how quickly she put the look together - though not entirely surprised she was so good with her hands. What struck you most was the speed and steadiness with which she did her eyeliner, movements lining up to the beat of the music. The space on her cheek she usually saved to represent the Judgment Day or Dominik was instead given a small heart this time, making yours skip a beat.

“You’re looking at me like I just performed some kind of magic,” Rhea laughs once she’s done, seeing your baffled expression.

“Do you mean to tell me that what you just did wasn’t witchcraft?” you ask, half joking. You’d never done makeup that good that quickly before.

“It’s what I do most days,” she says, shrugging, “Not that big a deal.”

“You’re going to have to teach me sometime,” you say, still impressed.

“Or I could just do your makeup,” she counters, smiling.

A very particular image appeared in your mind of you lying down on the bed, Rhea straddling your lap, face just above yours. Having to stay perfectly still with her on top of you, her eyes never leaving your face as she did your makeup.

“Both?” you ask hopefully, making her laugh.

“Sounds like a good excuse to look at you more,” Rhea says in a voice that makes you melt.

“How much time to we have?” you check, wondering what you might be able to get away with before she has to leave.

“Should start heading to the airport in less than an hour,” Rhea sighs, looking at the time, groaning, “Guess I should start stuffing all my shit back in the suitcase.”

“Let me help,” you offer, standing up, “I can gather up all the kinky items from my bedroom.”

“Good girl,” she says, reminding you of every other time she had said it and making you shiver, “Do it quick enough and we might have time to continue what we started in the shower.”

[end part twenty-eight of ?]

Part 29: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/726219197322035200/absolute-smokeshow-part-29-of-good-bi-for

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink

[mdizzle999872]

Mimi's First Crush

N awoke on a wooden surface. Very strange since the last thing he remembered was Uzi throwing him to safety in that underground.... Church... Place....

No. That couldn't be all.

He remembered there being a bright flash and then...

Nothing.

He frowned.

This wasn't good. One minute the Absolute Solver was ready to devour the planet's core and then the next he was rebooting in...

It suddenly dawned on him he had no idea where he was. Sitting up he surveyed his surroundings.

There were man-made structures everywhere. The wooden surface he was on? He was certain they were planks making out a rooftop perch of some kind.

The sky was blue (night time blue) of all things and his sensors didn't read any kind of toxic in the air at all.

Was he even on Copper-9 anymore? He supposed not since last he saw it was about to be destroyed.

Then he saw it.

The most impossible thing imaginable to him.

A human.

How could there still be a human? 'Tessa' should him the Earth was gone. Did humans live on planets other than Earth? Was he survivor of some kind?

Then again, 'Tessa' has lied to him about everything else. Why wouldn't she have lied about the Earth?

He never saw a human before but he'd wager this guy wasn't the norm. He had red overalls and a pair of yellow rubber gloves. To top it all off he was bald.

Every drone, worker and disassembly alike, knew humans had hair. They just sort of 'borrowed' the ones they currently have from the skeletons they would find.

So this wasn't Earth. Fair enough.

The human was working on something though. Whatever it was, hitting it with a pipe wrench seemed to help.

To his surprise, a robot of all things popped up.

It didn't look like any drone he had ever seen, nor sentinel for that matter.

It was humanoid, like him. Well humanoid-ish.

It had a face like he did. Hair.... sort of like his. Legs (if you could call them that) were together pointed down into the toolbox it presumably came out of.

An arm cannon for a hand and a siren light on top of the head were the most noticeable features.

Well except for the fact that it was obviously female. Such curves would hold no other function than sex determination.

Whatever she was, whatever purpose her design was, she was obviously not a product of JC Jenson In Spaaaaaaace.

It looked like there were other humans too. From what he saw there were a least seven of them, counting the first one he saw. Well he assumed the one with a flamethrower was human but how could he be sure?

N was a lot of things but observant was not one of them. While he was diagnosing all this he completely missed a voice on the loud speakers count down.

This was why it came as such a surprise when an alarm sounded off and in charged more robots.

These didn't look like the drones he was familiar with either. If anything, they were metallic versions of the humans he saw.

Why though? What kind of purpose could they possibly serve?

N quickly got his answer as they swarmed the humans. They were here to kill.

The girl robot was shooting the new robots in defense of the humans. Humans and robots working together, eh? Uzi wouldn't like that.

The human that built the girl robot was busy hitting her with the same pipe wrench from before but if anything it seemed beneficial to her.

Odd.

He was about to ponder on what he should do when he suddenly fell to his knees. He gripped his chest which was now glowing red. His visor was blaring a warning at him in all caps lock.

It had been too long since he had downed some oil to cool his core. Disassembly drones ran hot but they needed to keep their core from overheating. That was why they usually hunted worker drones; their oil was warm but still at a lower temperature than his core.

Since meeting Uzi he had avoided killing innocent worker drones by scavenging oil from the dead bodies in the corpse spire. He had guessed he had been putting off replenishing for too long because he was certainly paying for it now.

He needed oil! But where? There were no worker drones here.

He saw the girl robot and the weird robots. He didn't know if either of their oils would work, if they even had any...

Beggars couldn't be choosers though.

As a giant yellow X formed over his visor, only one thought remained: He needed oil. NOW!!

He leapt down onto one of the skinny silvery robots as if he were some kind of jungle cat. His fangs ripped into the robots neck but only a little oil came out. So, changing his hand into knife fingers he tore into the robot's chest.

This was where the real amount of oil was. He gorged himself immediately. The temperature was a little higher than a worker drone's but still lower than his own. This meant it would do the trick.

The taste though. The taste was intoxicating! Better than anything he had ever tasted!

HE NEEDED MORE!!!

Another robot that looked like a metal version of the first human he saw was quickly cut to pieces after N switched to his chainsaw hands. He slurped up as much oil as he could in one go.

Wonderful!

His core was starting to cool down but he needed more.

A much LARGER robot carrying a mini-gun saw what he was doing and started to fire. N barreled out of the way and fired a missile at it. It found its mark as what was left of the robot was now gushing oil from where it's top used to be.

Such a large amount of this new oil. N simply couldn't help himself. He feasted upon the oil like a wild animal.

The sound of a flamethrower alerted him that he was still in a rather dangerous place. Wait... A flamethrower could ignite his new oil! Then he wouldn't have anymore oil!! He couldn't have that.

He spotted a robot with a flamethrower and deployed his wings. He flew after the bot but his ordinary weapons weren't to be put to use for this enemy. No. A threat to his new oil didn't even deserve to be feasted upon.

Instead he used his tail, filled with his nanite poisons. At the speeds N was flying the robot never stood a chance. He took a moment to watch his foe dissolve into a puddle. They certainly weren't made of the same metals as worker drones.

This was when N started to regain his senses. He had killed again, he was lost in the oil lust and he enjoyed it. Didn't mean he didn't feel guilty about it.

Another robot, this one with a helmet and shotgun, ran up to him with the intent to kill.

"WAIT!! I did all of that to keep myself from overheating but I'm fine now! I don't have to kill anymore of your friends! You're safe now!"

N's pleas fell on deaf ears as the robot got closer undeterred.

"At least say something!"

It was no good. It dawned on N that this robot had no real sentience like himself, just the mission to kill.

*BANG*

Before the robot could get to him it's head was shot off.

He looked up and saw a little bit aways was a man with a sniper gun waving at him. N waved back.

"THANK YOU, NEW FRIEND!!"

A human that looked like the first robot he killed ran up to N and hit a robot wearing a mask that was trying to sneak up on him.

"Yo Toaster!! Maybe want to go back to be useful?! This was just starting to get easy!"

Whether N liked it or not, he had picked a side. These robots didn't seem like they wanted to talk anyways (if they even could).

"Sure. I love doing anything!"

He saw some robots that had a wheel instead of legs. They were bustling abound so N changed his hand into a laser gun and shot them all in half with one clean cut.

"WHOA!! Now THAT is what I'm talking about! THAT was a nice move!"

N didn't often receive positive feedback from anyone other than Uzi (Well there was Thad and the campers but the campers were dead and... It was still nice to receive praise).

"Um thank you?"

"Got any other tricks?"

"Well this one isn't really one of my default weapons but..."

He spotted a robot that looked like the first human that helped him and threw a ninja star into the sniper's barrel causing it to explode.

"You got friggin ninja stars?!"

"Yes?"

The human rested his bat on the ground and nodded in respect. "I'm jealous. So are you the assassination robot sent from Heaven or what?"

"OH! I'm Serial Designation: N, a disassembly drone." A pair of digital sunglasses replaced his ovals in his visor. "But an angsty rebellious one."

"... Alright cool. See if you can blast that turd down there with the grenade launcher."

N simply sent a missile down exploding the oddly cyclops robot.

"Alright, this is in the bag!"

A cry of pain alerted them both to trouble above. Up on a scaffolding, the first human N saw was on his side bleeding from a knife wound.

A bunch of robots wearing masks were now closing in on the girl robot holding strange devices.

"Oh no! Mimi!! I can't get to her in time!"

N heard all he needed to and flew up to the scaffolding with his wings. In one swift motion he cut all the strange robots in half.

"... Beep?"

The bleeding human sat up and laughed. "Well looky there, Mimi. Dat dere robot you was a watchin' saved us both!"

"Beep!!"

"I'm just saying he saved us."

Mimi looked between the human and N and covered her face. "Beep!! Beep!! Beep!!"

N just smiled obliviously as he looked between them.

"Folks around here call me Engineer. You seem like a mighty good egg, boy. What's yer name?"

N stood at attention and saluted. "I'm Serial Designation: N! Nice to meet you!"

"Heh. A single letter? Fine. As I've already said, I'm the Engineer. This one here that's hiding her face is my robotic daughter Mimi."

"Beep!! Beep!! Beep!! Beep!!"

"Now calm down, Darling. We're just having a conversation. We were watching you from your first kill; you've made quite the impression on both of us. Did the company send you?"

"Uh I don't believe so, sir. If anything I think I might just be lost."

Engineer slapped his knee. "Well ain't that a kick in the head? Either way, you pulled our fat out of the fryer and we're mighty grateful. Ain't that right, Mimi?"

Mimi lowered her head and had her fingers play in her gun barrel. She looked up at N and let out a quiet "Beep."

"I don't know where you came from but how about you stick around? You proved plenty useful and I know Mimi would like the company."

"Me? Actually useful?" N's entire day had just been made. "Well gee!! That's awfully flattering but I should probably try to find a way back to my friends, ya see? They're in trouble and..."

*CLANK!*

N looked down to see his hand had been magnetized to Mimi's gun barrel. Technically speaking, he was holding her hand. He looked to her and she offered him the smallest of smiles.

"Beep."

Before N could respond in any way a portal hole opened up in front of them.

"WHOAHO!!! OKAY!!! IT WAS NICE MEETING YOU ALL BUT I REALLY GOT TO GO NOW!!!"

He shook her gun off and jumped through the portal without a second thought.

"BEEP!!!"

Mimi held her hand out is desperate attempt to get N to stay but it was too late. The portal was gone and with it her first crush.

"Beep..."

"It's okay, Darling. There's plenty of robot fish in the robot sea."

"Beep! Beep! Beep!!"

"Alright. Alright. I'm shutting up."

[kendsleyauthor]

oki doki, after a bunch of breaks but still an obsessed spree, I'm done binging the Shot in the Dark Masterpost!!!!

Ofc I have a million things to say but let me just tell you I was so hooked and mad abt the fact that there were so many prompts and stories that I never stumbled upon cos they were buried under all your other posts, and MAN, I am severely addicted. To Cliff especially he's the loml I would literally die for him.

Crazy in Love had a GRIP on me. The romance was amazing, the angst, AND UGH JON LOSING HIMSELF MADE ME LOSE MYSELF LIKE UGH READING THAT CAUSED ME SO MUCH PAIN AND TENSION AND I WAS LIKE YES SYLVIA YOU GOTTA TELL CLIFF and I was genuinely so scared for her at the same time, like once again, y'all do emotion, so, damn, well.

Lost and Found was also really really good and it gave me much better context about the world and backstory considering I haven't read the books yet, but if I had to introduce a friend to the universe it would probably be through this. It really highlighted the platonic relationship with Cliff and Sylv and the angst at the end is still fresh in my mind even though I read it like two weeks ago and a million other stuff?? And duh, Jon and Sylv being literally the most delicious romance I've ever read. MAN. THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUCH THAT IT HURTTTTSSSS WHYYYY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME AJHBSJHBJVBHDV

Out of the prompts I think the ones that really stuck with me are probably any of the ones that had to do with the siren fairy- like man. Any time Sylv has to against one or BOTH of her boys just kills me. I cannot. I am addicted LOL

also Cliff constantly rejecting Sylvia when she wants to heal him is so like. I love how it's clearly something that happens a LOT and it just connects them better. Like. Cmon buddy. Ik. But let her heal you like come onnnnnn. but then at the same time im like SYLV IT'S FINE JUST LEAVE HIM BE. BUt no. SHe can't. and i'm so happy that she doesn't.

Pocket Nap! IS ALSO AN ADDICTION, I AM ADDICTED TO IT THE WAY I'M ADDICTED TO TEDDY BEAR WITH XANDER AND GRAYSON. Something about sleepy prompts just gets me, you know?

overall that was amazing and I love them more then I ever have before and yeah!! Ik i haven't rlly been active but TRUST me I still come to you and Mary's pages almost every single day and yes!!!!!! so so sorry this ask got way longer then I thought it would !!! love ya!!!

AWWWW omg this made me night!! I am so happy I put together that masterlist of Shot stories, since it made it easier for you to look through them all!

Sylv's relationship with the boys fuels my happiness so much! Jon and Sylv are SUCH a comfort couple, and the sibling vibes between Cliff and Sylv make my heart GLOW ✨ Her demand for pocket naps is so valid. And the healing argument literally kicks off in the rewrite of the first book--just finished editing a bit of that 😭

Gosh I would love to revisit the siren fairy idea at some point. I'm a sucker for making tinies terrified of giants they trust wholeheartedly LOL. Sylv having to use magic against Jon and Cliff is so heart-wrenching and I need moreee 😩

Thank you so much for this sweet feedback!!

@marydublinauthor 🌸

[demona-andariel]

Object of Obsession - 45 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 6,045

Chapter 45 - Love & Obsession

Sirens blared in the distance, but they were steadily getting closer.

Oh no. She had to wake up. They weren't safe. He probably needed her help. Gretchen fought with her sleepy, exhausted mind. Getting rid of Brandon had taken its toll on her. But, she couldn't rest. As much as she wanted to. Not yet.

Her body disagreed with her, feeling rather comfortable where they were laying. Comfortable? Laying?

Wake up!

The sirens grew louder. How many cops were on their way? It wasn't exactly a big town and there were already a couple in the hospital Michael had taken care of. Or were those her uncle's men? Michael wouldn't be stupid enough to try to face them all, would he? No, she was pretty sure he had retreated before. But, she was currently a liability. She really needed to wake up.

Besides. This time we go down together.

Gretchen awoke with a start, gasping loudly as she sat up in bed. Bed? She looked around, examining her surroundings. She was in a bedroom. A rather large, spacious, comfortable-looking bedroom at that. Whose? She wasn't quite sure. But there was something familiar about the place.

The sirens grew louder, making her tense and clench the comforter that was on her body. Okay, she was in a house, but the cops knew where they were.

She scooted out of bed and set her feet on the cool hardwood floor. It creaked with her added weight. Gretchen looked at herself for a moment. She was still wearing her street clothes that she'd put on when she was going to leave the hospital.

Michael.

She had to find him. The sirens blared loudly as they zoomed by the house. She froze and waited. Zoomed by? The sirens quickly faded till they were nothing but a faint memory.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited to hear them return. They would realize their mistake, no doubt. That they passed the house, whatever house she and Michael were in.

Michael.

"Michael?" she shouted. She headed toward the bedroom door but then paused. A big bay window caught her attention. It was difficult to make out with all the trees, but the sun was clearly setting. A dull natural light bathed the bedroom. Confusion settled over her. The last time she was outside it was dark and raining. How much time had passed? At least a day.

She tore her eyes away from the outside and stepped out into the hallway. Her confusion turned into a concentrated look as she tried to figure things out. Once again, her mind told her there was something familiar about the place. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Hello?" No one answered. She didn't even hear any movement.

She made her way down the short hallway, passing a single room, and down the stairs onto the main floor. The front door before her made her stop. She knew that door. It was dark blue and with decorative glass at the top. Gretchen's eyes widened as she swung it open. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest and she took several steps outside. The cool autumn breeze made her shiver. The driveway, the forest, the house: She knew where she was. Which meant-

She spun around to go back into the house.

"Michael," his name came out as a whisper. He leaned against the doorway to her childhood home. He still wore the same overalls, but his mask was missing. He watched as if making sure she wouldn't wander too far. She rushed over to him and then stopped just shy of reaching him.

"Are we dead?" she asked. Why else would they be in her old childhood home? It wasn't the one where she had killed her parents. It was the one before that. One she'd briefly mentioned to Michael the first time he took her outside. Given more time, she probably would have told him more about it. She was rather fond of the house. It held the best memories for her, despite the fact that during that time she was extremely sick.

Michael reached his hand out to stroke her face. He felt far too warm and firm to be dead. She placed her hand on his, not letting him leave her cheek.

"How? Why?" So many questions bubbled inside of her, she wasn't sure where to begin.

Michael pulled away and dug into his pocket. He fished out a cellphone and handed it to her. She frowned. It was a burner phone. Pulling up the contacts there was only one number with a single name on it.

She quickly pressed the button and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Nathan!" she exclaimed as she stepped back inside. "Oh, gods. Are you okay? How's your dad?"

"I'm fine. Dad's still-" he paused for a moment. "Not sure yet. The surgery went well, but… I don't want you to worry about that right now. How are you? Are you safe?"

"I'm fine. I'm safe." Although, she had no idea how Michael knew where to go. What happened to the original owners of the home? She stepped into the living room and looked around, searching for family photos on the wall. The walls were empty, but that didn't mean much. There was furniture in the home and bedding on the bed. Someone lived there… or had.

She glanced at Michael and swallowed back some saliva. She couldn't stay in the home. It was a nice thought from the serial killer. But she wouldn't be able to live with herself, knowing that another family was murdered for their home.

"Gretchen?"

"Huh? Sorry, I spaced-" she said.

"Is this what you want?" he repeated. His voice was almost too low to hear.

She looked at Michael. Was this what she wanted? Tie herself to a serial killer?

"He can't love."

"Yes," she replied. Her heart twisted slightly. He would never be able to return her feelings. But, she felt incomplete without him. He was barely out of her life for two days and she heavily mourned him.

Nathan let out a sigh. "I don't know where you are and I don't want to know."

She gulped, feeling like a little dagger pierced through her heart at her cousin's rejection of her choice. Oh. In choosing the killer, she lost maybe the last family member in her life. That is if Jethro didn't pull through. He had every right to reject her. It made sense. She was making the wrong decision here.

"At least, not yet," Nathan continued. "It'll be easier for me to tell the cops I don't know where the two of you went. I think dad knows, he told Michael something. But, he's unconscious for now."

Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought. Jethro talked to Michael? After the killer stabbed him?

"Look. I'm not going to do him any favors. I've been blaming everything on him. Dr. Loomis is pretty sure you have Stockholm syndrome and that's the story I'm going to stick to."

"Do you believe that?" she couldn't help but ask.

"No," he said sharply.

She stiffened at the tone of his voice.

He let out another sigh. "Sorry. It's just." He paused. "Hard. Wrapping my mind around everything. That ghost… he showed me a lot. But-" There was another moment of silence as if Nathan was thinking about what he wanted to say. "Gretchen. I know what you can do. And maybe that ghost is right. Maybe Michael can't kill you because a part of his soul is in you. But, you can kill him."

Her eyes widened at those words. The thought never crossed her mind. But, he wasn't wrong. She could kill Michael. Nothing was stopping her. Except my heart.

"Gods know why you love him. And… I think in some weird, fucked up way, he loves you too. Well, maybe not love. But something. He could have made sure dad was dead. I mean, dad could still die, but he has a chance of surviving. He could have killed me. He let that doctor go for you. He didn't go back for her. He also didn't kill Brandon's parents. Although, he probably would have, maybe. I don't know. But this time, he didn't. I did. Well-" Nathan paused then let out a sigh. "The ghost made me do it. He was desperately trying to figure out some way to get you to hate Michael. He targeted the doc and her family because he knew Michael let her go for you. I think he killed his parents in an attempt to gain your sympathy."

Gretchen's eyes searched for Michael. He wandered the living room, examining the place as if he wasn't listening to at least her side of the conversation. As if he hadn't spent however long she'd been unconscious and they'd been at the house searching it from top to bottom.

She felt a bit of relief at Nathan's words. She knew Michael hadn't killed the doctor. Although, she wouldn't have put it past him to kill Brandon's parents, but the doctor she was sure he wouldn't harm. Yet, Brandon planted that seed of doubt. He planted many seeds. Seeds that were sprouting because they made a little sense.

"Thank you," she said to Nathan. At least that helped.

"We have a lot to talk about. But not now. Got the cops hanging around me like crazy since last night. They think you'll call to see how dad's doing."

"They were right about that," she said.

They both chuckled at that, although it came out slightly sad. "I should go. Love you, cuz. Take care of yourself."

"Love you too, Nathan. Let me know how your dad is doing. Okay?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Gretchen?"

"Yeah?"

"You deserve to be loved, you know that, right? Happy? I know… I know as a family we fucked up. But dad and I care about you, a lot. No matter what, you can come to us for protection. Do you understand?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah," she quickly added since he couldn't see her movement. "I get it. Love you, too."

"Bye, cuz."

"Bye."

She ended the call and then powered off the phone, setting it on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch. Her eyes stared in the direction of the phone, but her mind wandered.

She deserved to be loved. Of course, she did. But… but Michael couldn't love. Everyone around her told her that. Even Michel had told her not to entertain the thought.

Gretchen looked up. Michael stood in the doorway leading into the hall. Waiting for her? Her knees popped as she stood up and then walked to him. His eyes followed her movements. His face was completely void of emotions, but that was who he was. Placing her hands on his chest, she played with the fabric of his clothing.

"My uncle told you to bring me here, didn't he?" she asked, finally looking up at him.

He raised his right arm and rubbed his fingers along her jaw and cheek. Suddenly, his lips were on hers. His left arm wrapped around her, pulling her to his body. She melted into his embrace, matching his desperation with her own.

His left hand grabbed her ass and she broke their kiss to groan. Damn, she needed him. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist while her fingers dug into his shoulders. He walked them up the stairs, resuming their kiss. His lips, his tongue, his touch, his smell. It set her on fire with the very need to have him.

She let out a surprised yip and chuckle as he dropped her onto the bed upstairs. She quickly threw off her clothes, leaving her only in her underwear, while he took off his coveralls. He didn't leave her alone in bed for long. Soon, his warm body was over hers again. His skin against hers. His mouth went back to kissing her, as he lifted one of her legs to wrap around his waist again.

"Part of the man's soul is inside of you- That is why he couldn't kill you." Brandon's words echoed in her mind.

"Stop," she said, placing her hand on his chest. He gave her a confused look, but let her push him back. She sat up and got off the bed. Turning her back to him, she walked to the bay window to look at the darkening sky. It was almost nighttime.

His soul. Part of his soul. She deserved to be loved. But, he couldn't love. Could she be satisfied with being his obsession? Was he even obsessed with her? Or was it that piece of his soul? Or maybe Brandon was lying. He did speak in half-truths. Telling her just enough but then twisting something to make her question what was the truth and what was the lie.

She ran her fingers along the window sill. It all boiled down to one simple question. Could she live with the fact that it was most likely he didn't want her? That his affections were really toward himself?

She let out a sigh. She was being stupid. Ridiculous. Of course, the killer didn't want her. It was a silly fantasy that she was somehow special to him. The one person he couldn't kill because he liked something about her. It made far more sense that he just didn't want to hurt himself. That he was attracted to that part that was him.

She gulped, trying to push down the lump in her throat as her eyes stung with tears. You can learn to live with it. You can lie to yourself. It sucked. At least before, she could accept being his obsession. But now? Now it wasn't about her. She would look at him and he'd break her heart. Not even on purpose. Just the mere thought that what he truly wanted was himself made her feel even more unwanted. But, she would still stay with him. Still allow herself to suffer, because her stupid heart decided it belonged to him. It was easier being around him than not.

He roughly grabbed her, turning her to look at him. A frown was on his face as his eyes searched hers for some clue as to what was going on in her mind.

"Michael. I feel like you should know." She wasn't sure why she wanted to tell him. To break the spell perhaps? Yes, that made sense. If she told him that she had a part of his soul then he could adjust his mindset accordingly.

"Brandon said-"

"No!" he said firmly, shaking his head.

"But, Michael. I think-"

His firm lips pressed against hers, giving her a full kiss. Her insides trembled along with her body as he pulled away.

"Don't," he said.

"I love you, Michael," she blurted out. "He told me that you will never give me what I crave. And, he's right. What I want from you is companionship. I want it that when you come back from-" She waved her hand in the air. "Doing whatever it is you want to do out there, that you come back for me. Sure, to fuck me, but ultimately, just me. Or, stay home because you just want to be around me for the day." She exhaled loudly. I want you to love me. He most likely didn't want or didn't care to hear the words she was saying. But, she needed to get them out. More for herself. Just release her frustrations instead of bottling them up inside. "I know it's too much to ask for. You can't give that to me because it's not me that you want. I guess I have a piece of your soul in me. So that's-" Her voice cracked, forcing her to stop talking. "That's why you can't kill me."

Michael took a step back. She'd done it. She'd broken the spell and it finally made sense to him why he was attracted to her. He could finally adjust his mentality and be free. Hell, he could probably figure out a way to leave her since he couldn't kill her. She hugged herself, waiting for the cold emptiness of his departure.

He didn't move. She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat. "He said-"

"Don't," Michael interrupted.

"But, Michael, I think-"

"Don't think, Gretchen."

Don't think? More like, don't use your emotions here. It's never been about love. And you've known that. Just sex. Your heart just refused to listen, Gretchen! You-

Her eyes widened.

“You… you… you said my name,” she said with astonishment.

His lips twitched as if he were trying not to smile. He took a step forward. His left hand roughly brushed her face and went into her hair. He tilted her head up to look at him.

"You're mine," he stated.

She nodded her head. She was well aware of that fact. She had a piece of his soul in her. He opened his mouth and then closed it. A look of frustration crossed his face as if she didn't understand. He noisily exhaled through his nose. Slowly, his free hand ran along her body as he felt each scar he'd made. He stopped on the longer more recent one. His face fell ever so slightly as if he truly did regret his action.

"I came for you," he said. His blue eyes met her hazel ones. She frowned. He didn't understand what she was saying.

No, you didn't, Michael.

She opened her mouth to explain, but a yip of surprise came out as he picked her up. He dropped her back on the bed and was over her in a second. His body grinded against hers. He wanted her. His hardening flesh made her moan with need. She wanted him too. Or he wants himself. She hated her brain for deciding to listen to Brandon and probably reality.

His keen eyes noticed as she looked away. He grabbed her face and forced her to look at him.

"I do not… I would never spare a life," he said firmly.

That made her think. She gave him a look, cocking her head slightly as her brain slowly processed his words. Why hadn't that crossed her mind before?

"But, Michael. What if-" It's the goodness in your soul.

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. He rose up on his arms to look down at her. "I spared the doctor for you. Your family, for you," he said. "You live because you are you."

He settled back on top of her. His lips went to her neck as his fingers grabbed her underwear and he pulled them off with her help.

"I came for you. You're all mine," he said again. "Your lips." He kissed her lips. "Your skin." He lightly nipped her shoulder. His teeth sent sparks through her, causing butterflies to flow inside of her. She couldn't help but giggle.

He moved down, clamping his mouth on one breast while he used his other hand to play with the other. She moaned. Her blood pumped through her body, sending signals to her brain that she was aroused. He rose back up to kiss her again.

"Your breasts," he continued. "Your scars." His free hand moved down to focus on the scars on her belly. His eyes didn't leave hers. She couldn't help but suck in her stomach a little. Her own mind was still nervous about that aspect of her. She wasn't sure she would never not be self-conscious. But, she could live with him insisting he liked them.

His hand traveled down to her pussy. His fingers slipped between her folds and she tossed her head back at the contact.

"Your pussy."

"Gods," she whimpered. His fingers played with her, examining her as his mouth traveled along her body. Her hips moved, seeking his fingers out each time he pulled them away. He was stoking a blaze inside of her.

But-

"But-" her inner conflict pushed through the moment. She grabbed his wrist, groaning in annoyance at herself for stopping him from making her feel good.

Michael roughly pulled his hand out of her grasp. Suddenly, his fingers wrapped around her wrist and he moved her hand over her head. He grunted and leaned over her. She heard the sound of the nightstand drawer being pulled open. He grabbed her other hand and put it up over her head as well. She moved her head to watch as he quickly tied her wrists together using a scarf.

He finally looked down at her, his eyes searching hers for something.

But what if-

She looked away for a moment, trying to collect herself. No. No. No! It was just Brandon's way of getting into her head, making her doubt. He wanted to get between her and Michael. Had from the start.

The fucker is doing better now that he's completely gone than he did as a ghost.

Michael grabbed her chin to make her look at him again. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes a little as he shook his head.

"Gretchen."

Butterflies filled her stomach at the sound of her name again. Twice now. He took off his underwear so his sex could run along hers. Despite her protests and her mind being stupid by giving her doubts, she still desperately wanted him.

He lowered himself so that more of his weight was on her. He was so warm. So perfect.

"I'm yours, Gretchen," he said softly in her ear. "My lips." He kissed her neck. "My tongue." He licked her earlobe, sending shivers through her body. "My hands." He gently traced the spot where the scar would have been on her face. "My cock." She moaned as he moved his body, his cock stimulated her clit. But he didn't try to enter her yet.

He paused and leaned over her again to pull something else out of the drawer. Returning back to his position over her he watched her expression. She kept her eyes on his, unsure if she wanted to see what he was doing with his hands.

She felt something hard press against her palm. He closed her fingers over the object.

"My blade."

Her head jerked up in surprise. He'd placed the handle of his blade in the palm of her hand. She looked back at him, startled. He hadn't been too happy when she held his knife at the hospital. Or was it he wasn't happy she was there?

"I'll kill for you," he continued. "Kill to keep you. Kill to protect you. Kill to avenge you," he said. "I'm obsessed with you. All of you. Your body, your voice, your expressions, your movements, your life, your personality. All of it."

"Mine," she said softly before he could.

A smile crossed his lips as he nodded. "It's just you." His mouth was back on hers. She moaned into his kiss as he moved her legs so he could more easily enter her.

He pulled away to watch her with lustful admiration. Her mouth dropped as she felt him push his way into her. There was no way she'd ever grow tired of that feeling, ever grow tired of the way he filled her up just right. He moved slowly but steadily, the fingers of his right hand tangled with hers, holding her tightly, while he used his left arm to support his weight so he could watch her. She wrapped her legs around his ass, needing him to go as deep as possible.

Her emotions were all over the place. She didn’t know if she wanted him to go slow and sweet like he was doing or rough and fast. He seemed to be of the same mind, as he captured her lips with his. Deep kisses, shallow. Fast thrusts, slow ones. Her mind pushed all questions and doubts to one side, focusing on her carnal desire.

“Fuck, Michael,” she breathed as he rose up. “You feel so good. I can’t get enough of you.”

It's just you. He's all yours. His body. His words. His words! He barely spoke, but when he did they had a purpose. Her body and mind blazed with need as he drove her closer and closer to her peak.

He held her hands over her head, refusing to let her go. He maneuvered her legs so she was positioned how he wanted her, but it didn't matter. She felt herself reach the edge. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, moving her hips faster. Just a little bit more and she'd explode. And, by the gods, she was ready to explode.

Suddenly, Michael stopped moving. She opened her eyes in a panic, searching his face for some answer as to why he stopped. He rose up, almost completely pulling out of her.

"Michael?" Oh great. You're a fool. Letting your guard down, thinking that-

“You, Gretchen,” he said. The moment her name left his mouth he slammed completely inside of her.

His cock, her name, the moment, it unraveled her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry or do something in between as every emotion possible seemed to course through her. Her hand clenched tightly onto his. She had no control of her body, or even her mind, vaguely aware that he was pounding hard into her. Each meeting of their hips seemed to expand her orgasm even more if that were even possible. Her orgasm seemed to come from two places, her pussy, and brain, both working intensely to give her a full-body experience.

Coming back to herself, she focused on him, moving her body to meet his needs. She let his hand go so she could grab onto the bars of the headboard. He moved her legs, putting them up on his shoulders, shifting the angle of her hips so he could go deeper.

"Oh, gods! I'm going to come again, Michael," she said.

His own erratic breathing and movement spurred her on. She wanted to come with him. And she was close. She could do it. He made a sound that she recognized. His own release was soon. She let go. Her insides fluttered as she gripped him. He let out a manly guttural groan, clearly unable to hold off. His cock pulsed inside of her as he released his cum.

They both took deep breaths as they slowly recovered. He moved her legs so they were back on the bed. Lowering his tired, sweaty body back on her, he kissed her. His hands reached up to slowly undo the scarf that tied her wrists together.

"Next time I'm going to really tie you up," he said.

Her face flushed red. Slowly, he rose onto his arms. His expression went back to that neutral pose that didn't tell her what he was feeling. But, his hand gently caressed her face.

"Gretchen," he said softly.

Her name.

"Michael," she replied, kissing his hand.

He bent down to kiss her lips and then he rolled off her, letting out a heavy content sigh. She stared at the ceiling for a moment. Questions suddenly plagued her mind.

Now that they were done, what if he came to his senses?

His hand brushed against her stomach, running along her scars again, making her look at him. Digging his fingers under her side, he pulled her to him, so that her head rested on his chest or shoulder. He placed one hand under his head to look up at the ceiling. His other gently ran along her side, stroking her.

She stared at him for a moment.

"You know," she said, looking up at him. "Love and obsession are kinda similar in a twisted way."

He smirked, lowering his eyes to gaze at her.

"I can live with you being so obsessed with me that you have to come back to fuck me."

He huffed in response.

“Asshole,” she muttered.

His hand grabbed her face. He made her look at him. His blue eyes examined her.

"You, Gretchen," he said firmly.

She nodded her head. "Me."

He waited for a moment as if making sure that she truly believed him. That it registered in her brain that it was just her. Finally, he let her go to stare at the ceiling again. She lowered her eyes and rest her head on his chest to think.

You, Gretchen. He was right. The killer in him wouldn't have wanted him to spare anyone. There was something about her that he liked. He probably didn't love, but as long as it was her that he wanted she could live with that. She was going to hell, damn her soul, but she didn’t care.

I'm yours, Gretchen. She gulped at the thought. He didn't have to say that. He didn't have to make it clear that he considered himself to be only hers.

How strange.

She knew who he was. A killer. She saw the bloodlust in his eyes. The enjoyment and curiosity he got each time he killed someone. He was never going to stop being that person. He was never going to stop being the boogeyman in the night. The Shape in the shadows.

But, that was out there in the real world.

Slayer of men out there. Slayer of pussy in here. She snorted then barked out laughing at her own thought.

Michael looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to tell you.”

Michael stared at the sleeping Gretchen. She lay on her stomach, but her face was turned toward him. His eyes narrowed and he propped himself up with his left arm. She looked so peaceful, so content.

She was crazy. She had to be. She wanted him. Him, of all people! A serial killer who would never change, who would cause other people pain and suffering. Strike fear in their hearts at just the sound of his name. He had hurt her and probably would hurt her again. Yet she suffered at the thought that he didn't want her. Who in their right mind would want a killer to want them?

But she did.

She lusted for him. Not that he could blame her. He knew he was a handsome man. That's why he wore the mask. He had a threatening and imposing presence as it was. But, without the mask, he was still a man to people. Human. The mask helped strip that away. Helped him adopt the persona he wanted to be out there. Something to be feared. A presence that caused people to panic. The Shape in the shadows. Evil incarnate.

But, she made him want to take off the mask and be human. Lean in and learn a little bit more about what made her happy. Just her, of course. Get her to yip and laugh and call him an asshole. Have her look up to him with eyes asking for a "simple" favor, to spare a life. Ah, to see those many emotions that were inside of her. They fascinated him.

That ghost of hers had planted many interesting seeds of doubt in her mind. He wasn't content with just making her self-conscious about her body. He wanted her to emotionally suffer as well. Claiming she had a part of Michael's soul in her was interesting. It would have made sense, except for one rather large problem.

Michael was a killer down to his very core. He wanted to kill that doctor, despite the fact she helped them. He wanted to kill her cousin and uncle. He wanted to spill more blood on Halloween night. But, he only left them alive because she wanted it. A gift to her. He listened to her uncle who told him there would be instructions on where he could go and they'd be safe. He could have just dumped her in the car and killed some more. Found a random house, kill the occupants and stay there for a while. But instead, he drove them away from Haddonfield, all the while his own bloodlust screamed at him to return.

No. She didn't have even a sliver of his soul in her. He would have emotionally wrecked her since he couldn't kill her. Having his soul in her didn't obligate him to be nice to her. It really would just have been about sex. About his own carnal pleasure. He wouldn't have cared if she enjoyed herself or not. No. It was another lie the ghost told to torment her. To drive a wedge between the two of them. It partly worked. Worked in making her emotionally suffer at least.

He reached out his right hand and then hesitated. Keeping a close eye on her face, his fingers brushed her warm, soft skin. She let out a soft moan but didn't wake up.

Content that he wouldn't disturb her, he moved his fingers along her back till he felt a small rise of skin. The scar he'd given her when they first met. He had fully intended on killing her then. Dump her body with her boyfriend's. When she slipped and fell, knocking herself out, he convinced himself that he was taking her so that he would get more of a fight out of her. Feed off her fear before ending her. Except… that wasn't true. He lusted for her from the start. Lusted for her beautiful body that another man was enjoying. The princess costume she wore was a little too small for her, showing off her curves leaving little to the imagination. Or so he had thought.

The scars along her belly surprised him and made her that much hotter. Secrets. What else was there to discover about her? Apparently a lot. It quickly became apparent to him that she didn't fear him. She desired him.

Michael swallowed as his blood started to flow down to his cock, just at the thought of how aroused he could make her. At how her warm pussy walls wrapped around him just right. And her moans, her voice. The way his name rolled off her tongue. The wanton looks she gave him and how her hazel eyes blazed with lust for him.

His breathing deepened. He was going to have to wake her up soon to satisfy his urges. She wouldn't mind though. Plus, it'd give him another chance to be more firm with her, work on banishing those doubts.

Taking in a deep breath, she shifted positions in her sleep, turning to her side. Her mouth dropped slightly as she started to breathe from it. His eyes wandered down to her breasts. Her arm partially covered them, but he could see the scab of the knife wound he'd given to her the day before. His mistake. He shouldn't have. His anger got the better of him and he had immediately regretted his action.

Remorse. How strange. He was a killer. Innocent blood covered his hands and he didn't care. Hell, even when he stabbed her uncle, he didn't regret it. Ghost or not ghost. The old man was threatening her life and Michael had to put a stop to it. And she understood. She understood him. She knew him. He wasn't a good man. He was evil. And yet, she loved him.

"He doesn't love you, Miss. Carter." Dr. Loomis's words played in his mind. "I don't know what kind of sick game he's playing, but he's just using you. He can't love. He can obsess… but he's incapable of love."

"I know you can't love." Even she repeated the words. Yet- "I love you, Michael." That was the unfortunate part for her. At some point, her heart got attached to him.

Love.

They were right, though. He was a serial killer. His thoughts were only of his own pleasure and doing what he wanted to do, not caring if it was morally wrong. Except-

Gretchen grunted and licked her lips. He huffed, noticing a slight damp spot on the pillow from her drool. The ghost had fucked up. Fucked up big time. Perhaps things would have been different, had the ghost not tried to interfere. But every little thing that it did only drove them closer to each other. It made Michael notice her more. Think about her more. Contemplate and figure out what she meant to him. And in noticing her, he caught little things that fascinated him about her.

He huffed. No. Things wouldn't have been different. He lusted for her from the start. He noticed her in the car that fateful night. The boyfriend a mere obstacle. He came for her. He had no reason to be up there that night. Out in the middle of nowhere when he had a whole city to stalk.  But he felt a pull, a summon. Destiny? Fate? He just didn't know it at the time. They would have had a slower start. The ghost just pushed their relationship into the direction it was eventually going.

She was always his focus.

His obsession.

"My love."

Chapter 46 - A Long Time Ago

[moraypower]

FRYE ONAGA - FANTASIA WAR INFO

"I'm not SUPPOSED to be anything. But I'll tell you who I AM."

Species: Siren (vampire squid)

Affiliation: The Opalarian Empire... technically. In actuality, she's more so flying solo as a Robin Hood-esque bandit, stealing from the big families, wealthy marketplaces, and even members of the Thieves' Guild alike as she sees fit in order to help out those who have fallen between the cracks created by all of the political corruption.

Her level of loyalty to the Opalarian Empire is surprisingly low. She's here to get all eyes on her and help people out doing it, sure, but in her own way! And while she's admittedly having fun being paraded around as a champion, she's not particularly attached to the Opalarian Empire specifically. In fact, she's kind of put off by the glitz of it all, as it reminds her of Inkopolis. Just, you know, with less tech and flashy neon lights. And if she were to get her hands on the treasure herself, there's no way she'd be handing it over to the big families in charge here so easily...

She'll help out anyone from any kingdom who needs it, and is equally as likely to intimidate and steal from absolutely anyone regardless of affiliation as well, if she's decided that you'd make for a good target. Chances are that she'd be more likely to find true allegiance with the Kingdom of Yela Alora, specifically aligning herself as a protector of those of a lower social class there, but at least for the moment she's still with the Opalarian Empire. Of course, when she makes a point out of not disguising herself despite her species and is a little too happy to boldly face even the most powerful of forces in Opalaria without fear, how long she'll remain welcome for is... very, very questionable.

Appearance: On a first glance, Frye looks surprisingly normal in comparison to her usual self. She still has the same long ears, as well as what looks at first glance to be the same tentacles in place of hair. But it doesn't take long for the various differences to start making themselves apparent. First, she has more tentacles than usual atop her head, with her simply styling them to more closely resemble her usual appearance by tying them up tight together using the off-white cord that she normally wears anyways. But if this tie were to come undone, one would easily be able to see the thin webbing connecting each part of the once bundled mass, something that is definitely not normal for her. This same webbing can be found connecting her fingers and her toes, too.

Another immediately apparent difference can be found in her eyes. Usually golden, they now appear abnormally blue, a shade so bright that it looks almost eerie. They’ve also notably lost the usual star-like shape of her pupils. Her dark skin is covered almost entirely by bioluminescent freckling and spots, although not all of them are always lit up at the same time, and in the daylight the slightly muted dots they create across her skin are only barely visible if one squints at her. At night however, she glows practically from head to toe, and although the intensity of this glow varies, she’s unable to hide all of these illuminating freckles even if she wanted to.

Which, to be fair, she doesn’t. Although she can’t ever turn them off entirely, and her overall control is rather limited, she can somewhat influence which ones are actively lit up and at what intensity they are if she focuses on it, and often she has a little too much fun making a game out of trying to create various light patterns on herself.

Finally, although it’s usually hidden by the bagginess of her pants save for the three holes in the fabric on the left side, she now has another, larger set of tentacles stretching from the waist down. If one were to see her without her pants, they might even think that her legs have been replaced by this new set of tentacles entirely, as the webbing connecting them obscures her legs from view much like a dress would. But her legs are still there, and she can still use them, albeit awkwardly due to the new tentacles throwing off her body weight and balance.

Generally, she does not hide the fact that she's a siren, and in fact actively plays up the intimidation factor that her species gives her! She does this both in order to get what she wants, and to pick fights and show off her skills, just because she thinks it's fun to. She's more than okay with it if someone else tries to pick a fight with her first due to her simply walking around brazenly in the open the way she is, given how much she always enjoys a good challenge.

The only reason she might choose to disguise herself is simply for ease of mobility if the tentacles on her lower body keep getting in the way, and if asked, she will be loud and proud about her true nature. In fact, there's a good chance she'll tell you completely unprompted before you even can ask, especially if it means making a dramatic entrance or otherwise stealing the show!

Retained Canonical Abilities: She can still create her ink, and freely change what color this ink is, which in turn changes the color of the tentacles on her body. But unfortunately, that's about it. She's lost the ability to change into squid form, as that was inherent to her being an inkling, and as a result has also lost the ability to super jump along with it. She does have her Splatana Wiper to use her ink with though, and her two moray eels are still at her side, so that's a plus!

Species Unique Abilities: Technically, Frye can disguise herself as another race like any other siren can, but she almost never actually uses this. If she's going to be remembered, she wants to be remembered as herself! Otherwise, what's the point?

On the other hand though, her musical performances have just become a lot more hypnotic than they used to be, prone to drawing people towards her subconsciously if they aren't keeping their guard up. This is something that she will use to her advantage, likely most often as a distraction to get everybody's eyes on her while her eels then grab and run off with all the stuff she wants, or even to just genuinely put on a show with as much of an audience as possible. She's still a performer, after all!

Spell List: Fire, Blessing, Charm, and Lock/Open. She didn't have the patience to try to learn anything else.

[shuetan]

10. Hours.

The MOST I have ever spent on a drawing before this was maximum 6 hours. What the hell.

-

Meet Hannah, the siren. My new welcome home oc.

-

Backstory

Her first appearance was in the middle of the series. The episode consisted of Wally giving her a tour, and Barnaby proceeding to get jealous that Wally seemed to have a new friend.

Hannah could not detect jealously as she's never felt this emotion from anyone else before, so she assumes he's just sus of her and continues to hang out with Wally to show Barb that she's cool, but this backfires.

The episode ends with Hannah clearing the air and Wally confirming that Barb could never be replaced. (Kinda like those episodes in sesame street to teach kids that your friends may have other friends, and that's okay)

Fun facts:

- Literal empath, can read emotions and deescalate stressful situations. (Teaches kids how to look out for signs of distress, etc)

-When she whistles, she summons someone's truest desire at the moment. Could be Barb wanting a hot dog with very specific items, and she could get it, but she doesn't do this unless there's a reason. (Teaches kids that they can't get everything they want and that they can have fun with what they already have.)

-She was cancelled from future appearances after parents complained that she was a Siren, and those ofc have negative connotations. They also thought she was too much of a people pleaser to be healthy to show to kids, so she was canned :(

-

My little unofficial canon is that she does fall for Wally after she tries to summon his truest desire, and when nothing appears she gets confused, but he just smiles and says "I already have you here. Isn't that enough, neighbour?"

She's literally like: agdhendb🥺🥺😭🥹

↑

It's the first time anyone's ever really liked her for her and not just for her abilities lol

She's just so surprised to hear that. He meant it platonically, but it's like a friends to lovers thing I got goin in my head

-

Design Details

The frills on her legs are meant to look like a mermaid tail when she puts them together

Her shirt/tutu is held up by seaweed and clam clampers, like overalls

The tailcoat thing and sleeve frills are meant to look like fins, along with the transparent cloth covering her arms

She got a starfish for aesthetics lol

Her hair is also held up by clamshell clamps.

She has a shell necklace and some pearls

Closing notes

These colours may change in the future, but I'm happy with how she turned out in the end. I love designing characters, and when it came to designing a muppet, I just thought, "the design can be as beautiful and complex as I want it to be". Muppets are so diverse when it comes to design, and I just wanted to make something I'm happy with, which I achieved.

I'm so proud to be apart of this fandom.

More info about this oc can be found on my Instagram @/shuwuetan

Thank you @partycoffin for creating the most inspiring fandom I've ever been in. I mean it with all the sincerity of my heart.

I've never felt as free to draw what I want than I do now.

[chopper-writing-stuff]

The Scrap Queen

The air raid siren startled her. Avril stood up from the seat and looked around the hangar. Two guards, standing by the entrance, didn't move. They briefly stopped their chat to yell at her to get back to working on the plane. Avril sighed and sat back in the cockpit.

She checked the flaps, then airbrakes, ailerons and the elevator. The F-104 seemed to be responding properly. She stood up again, leaned out and pushed a pedal with her toes. Rudder was working too. With that she was basically done, but didn’t want to tell the guards yet. Maybe a quick break, and then she’ll take another look at the engine.

She didn’t want to unveil just how fast she can get an aircraft running. Just as with her leg, which seemed to have healed already, it was a piece of intel, and you don’t give out intel for free. Especially if you want to break out of jail.

She heard that from one of the convicts. Didn’t really work out for him, since he wound up here, but the theory checks out.

She fixed up a Super Hornet for that guy. She fixed up a lot of jets. At first, they were supposed to be able to just taxi around a dirty airstrip, to make the enemy think 444th Air Base was operational. In reality it served as a prison, and anyone who’s got a sentence and knows what an airplane is, was sent here to help keep up this farce. Avril was one of these people, but her case was special. While everyone else was parading the planes, she was brought here to make them. It didn’t take long for her to come up with a scheme. One day, when the warden was checking up on her in the hangar, she offhandedly remarked that just driving the aircraft around wouldn’t fool a toddler, and that the planes should take off from time to time.

“And what else, maybe fly back to Osea?” He laughed, but Avril saw a slight shift in his overall expression.

“You could rig the planes. A few circles in the air and come back, or the jet will shut down.” She hoped this didn’t sound too pushy, but the warden was hooked.

“And who would watch them? This is a prison, there’s no AWACS here.”

He said “them” instead of “you”. The warden mentally separated Avril from the rest of the convicts. That’s what she was hoping for.

“There is. I saw an E-2 in the scrapyard. I could fix it.”

She could hear the thoughts going in his mind. Now just a little push to make them take off.

“A flying squadron with early warning aircraft. Now this will look like a real base. Isn’t that what the brass wants?”

“I’ll have gone above and beyond… They ought to give me credit for that…”

And that’s how the Spare squadron came to be. The warden nominated his right hand man to work in the Hawkeye Avril put together. Surprisingly she didn’t need another one to source the parts from. But the same couldn’t be said for the jets that went to the convicts.

The intel guy’s F-18 had elevators with a paint scheme never seen on a Hornet before. They came from an F-15S/MTD. So basically the same part, but the guy frowned when he saw that. Another one, some fraud, got a Flanker. She said it was an Su-33 but technically it was more or less a 50/50 mix with a 27, plus some notable exceptions, like canards and wingtip hardpoints from a Terminator. The latter were painted yellow for some reason. Avril just shrugged it off. The scrapyard, expanded with planes brought in on the same ship as herself, was full of fighters from all over Osea and Usea. One day she was taking a vertical stabilizer from an F-16XL to put on a regular Viper. The strike variant had clear Heierlark Air Base markings. Also a cool livery, but the pilot didn’t appreciate that, when he climbed up to the cockpit and saw the top of the fuselage was a chequer of standard gray and green camo. But the work wasn’t always like that. Just last week she stumbled upon a seemingly brand new Mirage.

However, the plane she was sitting in right now was special. Avril began working on it when churning out new jets became routine enough the guards stopped checking them for engines rigged to shut down and removed ejector seats explosives. This Starfighter was fixed properly. This Starfighter would take her out of this hellhole.

Only one panel in the cockpit was loose - behind it was a notebook she found. In it Avril calculated her position based on the stars. She used working late and calibrating instruments as an excuse. Sky charts were memorized long before she got here - in the Eastern Usea. Soon she’ll take off into the dark blue sky and fly east towards Axel Bay. There she had contacts that could help.

“Hey, get out of there!” Someone shouted.

Avril stood up and turned to see who said that.

“Is this plane working? We’ve got a pilot.” Two new guards were escorting a man in the prison uniform and a helmet already on his head.

“No no no NO! It’s my plane, it’s my way out, it- it’s got my plans!” Avril discreetly pushed the loose panel shut and climbed out of the cockpit. She hoped the new guy - she didn’t think she had seen this pilot before - wouldn’t notice. And if he did, he could still crash. A few of them did before.

The convict shut the canopy. The guards standing by the door began to open it, while one of the escorts grabbed a bucket of white paint lying nearby.

Each prisoner would get white lines on the tail of their aircraft. Most of them had just one, for minor crimes and felonies. Only one has been convicted of murder - he got two. The new guy was getting

“Three sin lines?” Avril didn’t mean to ask it out loud but the words just sort of fell out of her mouth. “What did this guy do?”

“Killed Harling.” There was a hint of awe in the guard’s tone.

Vincent Harling. Osean president that got himself kidnapped during the last war. His replacement ignited the conflict even more instead of pushing for peace.

“That bastard stood at the beginning of the chain of events that landed me here.” Avril felt a little respect for the convict that was rolling out of the hangar, but then she snapped back.

“But if he’s anything like the other murderer and finds my escape plans, I’m done.”

Snitches were welcomed with open arms here. Avril was anxiously waiting for the pilot to come back, or not. After a long 20 minutes the roar of jets began to get louder and the planes started to land. Avril turned away from the pile of scraps she was organizing in the corner and came up to the line in the middle of the hangar. She stood there like a passenger awaiting the arrival of a train. Finally, the Starfighter with three lines taxied in. It stopped right in the center and its canopy opened.

Avril looked up to try and read the pilot’s expression. Did he notice the notebook? He took off his helmet revealing a head with an unremarkable haircut. Stepping down the ladder he glanced at the tail of the aircraft. Avril mustered up the strength and asked:

“So, how is the jet holding up? Any vibrations? rattling? loose-”

“No.” He answered without looking at her. He was about to walk up to the group of guards that came to escort him out, but hesitated for a second.”

“Axel Bay’s no good.” He said and walked away.

Note: A quick one shot this time. I wanted to share my headcanon about the Spare Squadron jets' appearances and make Avril actually good at planning escapes. Unfortunately she had no luck completing this one.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

A Shinichiro x reader, is a human who is enhanced with robotics part such as one arm or leg. This a a universe that has robots and cyborgs those who have the most money or most influence have the best models of robots and Cybogs. Shin is an engineer who collects scraps in a scrap graveyard to find ways to build/repair robots in his lab. His next trip to the graveyard he finds Y/N injured and takes her to his lab to fix her up. Strangers to Friends to Lovers.

been sittin' on this one for a while. feeling this vibe tonight, though.

Scrap Yard (Part 1): Shinichiro Sano x Fem!Reader

wc: 1k

tw: fluff

masterlist

Scrap metal.

Shinichiro loves scrap metal. He's not sure when he first came to know of its existence or how he came to possess the first fragments of shiny silver, copper, and brass that decorate his office. But he does know that the first time he fixed something, he was in the first grade and almost shit himself watching the old clock come back to life.

From then on, Shin knew he was destined for great things. Well, things were better than his hometown and upbringing, at least.

Taking off at lunch was normal for a nice day, and everyone at the robot factory knew Shin would make his way to his old motorcycle and rev it up before speeding through downtown to the one place he loved most: the junkyard.

And today is no different.

As Shin uses his thirty-minute lunch to pick through items and dust them off, he watches his step - rodents loved this place just as much as he did - and keeps a sharp sense of hearing out for the sound of the trash collectors. One wrong move and he'd be swept away with the other discarded items destined for the burning landfill behind the junkyard.

"You ever think about this place like a gold mine?" he wonders to no one, eyes scanning the hunks of old cars, signs, and trash collected together in one place. Shin inhales the scent of promise deeply, filling his lungs with the acrid smell of rusting metal before exhaling with a smile. "Let's get to work."

First, he unpacks his little helper, TeeBo, from the back of his motorcycle. TeeBo is his refurbished metal detector, but the difference between him and the other detectors is it's not handheld. "Listen, Tee," Shin begins, holding the device out and watching it power up. "Today, we're scanning for radios."

"Radios?" it repeats, the metal propellor unfolding from the top of its inhuman head.

"Radios. With wires."

"On it, boss," the little device sings, then lifts out his hand and begins its journey high in the sky. Shin follows behind it, hands in his pockets while the device scans piles, then returns a beeping sound - no radios here. Really TeeBo does most of the work identifying each item and examining the yards of trash for Shin, but Shin always follows closely in case TeeBo misses something.

TeeBo flies ahead of him, scanning every way and returning the same beeping sound. Shin didn't need another radio for the collection (it would be number 75). Still, he would like to have another to refurbish and put up on iTrade for a pretty penny, labeling it as a "collectible vintage item." People would pay top dollar for something like that.

The sound of TeeBo flying around fades as the machine does its job quickly. Shin briefly looks down at his watch, noting the time, before looking back up and hearing a small siren.

Shin breaks out in a smile and jogs toward the sound, excited to see what TeeBo had found. But when he sees the item, he pauses, stopping in his tracks.

"Holy shit." TeeBo cuts his alarm off, and Shin takes a step toward you, reaching out to touch the very real and damaged thing that had set TeeBo off. Your arm lays by your side, almost broken, the control box flipped open and wires poking out of the communication compartment. It was basically a radio. Overall, you looked like hell. Your hair is unkempt, black smudges litter your face and torn clothes, and your arm looks almost completely severed.

"Hey." Shin snaps his fingers in front of your face, which seems to have gone dormant. "Hey, wake up." Your whole body begins to reawaken, and your eyes flutter slowly.

"What..."

"Your arm looks like it's in bad shape," Shin begins, eyeing the droid part carefully. "You're gonna need help with that."

"That'sssss... why I came to the... junkyard in the firssssst... place," you slur, lolling your head around to look at Shin. "To fi-th my arm."

"Damn," Shin breathes. "I can help you out if you need it, you know. Like... fix your arm."

"That would be great," you offer. "But you don't have any credentials, do you?"

"I'm an engineer," Shin chuckles. "I know how to fix anything."

"Okay, by anything... you couldn't have meant droid arms." Shin scrunches his brows together, attempting to solder a connection between the communication line and the central system.

"I'm trying here," he mutters. He glances over at you sitting on his bed, now all cleaned up and looking very... typical. If he looked at you from a certain angle, he wouldn't be able to see the amputated arm at all. Underneath all the grime, you looked like an ordinary girl he might pass on the street. But from what you told him, your life had been anything but ordinary.

A car crash at ten left you orphaned, without a right arm or any family to care for you. You'd been given a yearly replacement of the droid arm you would receive, but that didn't do much for you when it came to learning how to use it for school, play, or everyday life. And repairs for the arm were too costly.

"I just avoided using it. I mean, I couldn't even use it in gym class. It was an "unfair advantage." And I got kicked off the softball and basketball team as soon as things got rough."

Shin understood that. But what he couldn't wrap his head around was--

"How did you end up in the junkyard again?" Your eyes slide over to him, and your mouth opens to prepare your excuse: a drunken night gone wrong. But Shin puts his solder gun down, and you sigh.

"I got into brawling for cash," you grumble, looking away. Shin sighs, shaking his head. It's what cast-off robots and droids did to make money when things were too complicated. "Got my ass kicked pretty bad."

"Don't go back down there, y/n," Shin warns, turning his focus back to the arm. "There isn't anything good that crawls up from that cesspit."

"I crawled out of that cesspit," you joke.

"Yeah," Shin huffs. "And right into my lab to get fixed." Though, as he spends his third week trying to work on the item, he isn't so sure that it was a stroke of bad luck that brought you here to him.

No, he thinks, glancing over at you briefly. It's not a bad thing at all.

[thatonecurlygirl]

When Realities Blur [Chapter Four]

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Eddie x Reader Word Count: ~1.4k

Masterlist

Being the youngest of two girls, you had always wished you had a little sister to do fun things with, even more so since your sister was a witch and not the fun kind either. Samantha was downright evil, everything she said and did with you had some kind of sinister intent behind it, which is one of the reasons your parents got divorced anyway. Samantha was always mean and hateful toward you and it was always painfully obvious, but Mom stuck up for Samantha no matter what she did. 

So it was nice to actually get quality girl time with someone that is not Samantha and do things that sisters may do.

You and Max sit on your bed under heavy quilts, bowl of popcorn between the two of you as you watch late night reruns of Little House on the Prairie, your guilty pleasure in the 21st century... probably here too. Max watches it with a snarl on her face when the bratty Nellie come on, causing trouble and overall being a pain. 

“You tell anyone I’m watching this show with you, I will kill you.” She laughs. 

“What, is Max too good for Little House on the Prairie?” You giggle, popping some more popcorn into your mouth. 

“Yes,” She scoff, “I mean, this is like a grandma show. I can’t believe you like this show.” 

“Laura Ingalls is my childhood comfort character, okay? We can change it if you want.” You offer. 

“No,” She shakes her head, “We can finish this episode.” 

You smile behind your hand, kicking the blankets off your legs when the phone rings on the other side of your bedroom. You quickly make your way over, grabbing the phone before it has the chance to wake your dad who is likely exhausted from a long day at work. 

“This is Y/N, do you know what time it is?” You ask, astonished as you look up at the clock on your wall that shows 1:27 am.

“Going on 1:30,” the voice replies. 

“Eddie, is that you?” You ask, the voice sounds incredibly similar to his but you can’t be sure. 

“Yeah, what are you doing up so late?” He asks.

“Watching tv with Max. Is everything okay?” You ask, worried. 

Max sits up straighter, eyebrows knitting together in concern as she tugs at the edge of the blanket, ready to jump out of the bed at any moment. The momentary pause on Eddie’s end of the line causes panic to begin to rise in your chest before he begins speaking again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted to thank you again for the snacks. Could you bring some more tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course.” This time you pause. “Eddie, how’d you get my number?” You ask, shooing Max to let her know everything is okay.

“Dustin.” He replies simply “I called him a few minutes ago and he gave me your number.” 

“Wait, so you called Dustin at 1:30 in the morning to ask him for my number and then ask me to bring you more food?” You hold back an exasperated laugh. 

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” He grumbles on the other end of the line. 

“Because it is ridiculous, Eddie. You could have asked Dustin to have us bring food for you.” 

“Dustin isn’t as pretty as you.” Smooth

“You can’t even see me, Eddie.” You shake your head. 

“But I can hear you, you have the voice of an angel...or a siren. Either way, it’s gorgeous.” 

A red blush rushed to your cheeks and eyes go wide. You turn to look at Max who is still looking at you with questioning eyes, mouthing “What is he saying?”. Shaking your head, you hold up a finger to tell her to wait.

“I- uhm... Thanks, but we both should probably get some sleep. Do you want me to bring you anything other than food tomorrow?” You ask, heart thumping wildly. 

“A solution to this shit I’ve managed to step in.” He groans. 

“I’m working on that, don’t worry. Goodnight, Eddie.” 

“Goodnight, Y/L/N.” He hangs up the phone. 

You slowly put the phone safely back in it’s home before turning back to Max who is looking at you expectantly, sipping on the orange soda in her hand. She pats the spot on your bed that you were sitting in, hurrying you to go spill the tea. 

“What did Eddie say?” She asks, nearly whispering. 

“I think he was flirting with me.” You chuckle, surprised as you think back to what he said. 

“Seriously?” She’s just as surprised as you. 

“Yeah.” 

   ***   ***   ***   ***

The five of you quickly and carefully make your way to the boat house, brandishing many different items for Eddie. Dustin has the food, Max the walkie-talkie that is already tuned to the correct channel to reach Dustin. Steve and Robin carry the drinks and you the pillow and quilt you snatched from your bed and you and Max rushed out of the house.

Eddie stands by the window, startled away when you walk in. He must’ve heard the car pull in but was unable to see where Steve had parked the car from the window he was peering though. His hand flies to his chest to calm his rapidly beating heart and he smiles wide when he realizes that he isn’t currently in danger.

“Delivery service!” Dustin announces.

“We brought food and drinks.” Robin pushes past Dustin, laying the bags down on the wooden desk that you had cleared off last night before the five of you left. 

“And blankets. They won’t make a world of difference, but it’s be better than covering up that that tarp.” You smile, placing the quilt and small pillow into the boat. 

“Grab some food and get comfortable, we need to talk.” Steve motions to the bags.

Eddie grabs a box of cereal and a Yoohoo and climbs back in the boat, you’re surprised he isn’t tired of being the the darned thing already, you would be. The rest of you gather around, preparing to let Eddie in on what you all had discussed earlier on the ride out here. 

“So I got some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer?” Dustin asks. 

“Bad news first. Always.” He takes a swig of his Yoohoo. 

That’s when we break it to him. Everyone is looking for you and the police and convinced that he killed Chrissy. Luckily no one really knows that Eddie has anything to do with it, but that won’t last long. 

“Technically we are still in the brainstorming phase.” Everyone stutters around something positive to say, each playing a part in finishing the sentence. 

“There’s nothing to worry about!” Dustin adds. 

“Plus, we have me. There’s got to be something that I can contribute. I’m still working on how exactly, but we will figure it out.” 

Your sentence is punctuated with the wailing of sirens and lights, startling all of you as Eddie hides beneath the blankets and tarps in the boat and the rest of you run to the small window. A mess of first responders fly down the street, you know exactly what happened and you know that you and the other four need to be there.

“We have to go, Eddie. We will be back. Radio Dustin if you need anything!” You shout and rush out of the boat house, the others following closely behind you. 

You all are quick to jump into Steve’s car and race to the obvious crime scene. The road is blocked, a sheet covering the obvious body laying in the middle of the road and there is Nancy Wheeler, talking to the police. The five of you slowly exit the vehicle and you can see the realization hit her.

“And so it begins.” You sigh. 

“Who is it?” Max asks, turning to look at you. 

“It’s Fred, Fred Benson.” You sigh softly, running your hand across your face. 

“Works on the newspaper with Nancy, Fred?” Robin asks, eyes wide as she looks between you, Freds covered body, and Nancy. 

“That’s the one.” You nod. “We need to talk to Nancy as soon as possible and fill her in on what is going on.” 

“You’re right,” Steve starts to walk toward the blocked off area that Nancy is standing as she talks to the police.

“Where are you going?” Robin whisper shouts. 

“I’ll be right back, get in the car.” Steve replies with a wave. 

_____________

Taglist: @xicarcalii @asheseiler @loulouloueh @lacunaanonymoused @fujiihime @dingusfreakhxrrington @tarkalean-trekkie @ally-holmes @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @griffienn @silky-luxe @teenage0jealousy @gooblerstan @blueberryhitosh1 @eddiemunson17 @celie-voss @smellyzcat @sunflowerharrington @staygoldwriting @nchl18 @yourdailymemedelivery @langaslefthairstrand​ @probablypossesedbysatan​ @scoobiessnacks

[oneshotnewbie]

Can you do a one shot of Derek and Amelia reacting to little sisters suicide attempt?

A/N: TRIGGER WARNING!

THIS ONESHOT CONTAINS MENTIONS AND PERFORMANCE OF SUICIDE AND DEPRESSION!

PLEASE, IF YOU ARE AFFECTED, I ASK YOU TO NOT READ THIS STORY!

I DON’T WANT TO TRIGGER YOU AND PUT YOU IN DANGER.

PLEASE SKIP THIS TEXT!!!!!!!!

---- Today was another day of hell for you.

It was mid summer, the sun was beaming through the city almost permanently and the heat pushed people to go outside. Everyone was happy, everyone was laughing and spending time with their family, except you.

You came home from university earlier just wanting to go to bed and do nothing besides staring blankly at the white bedroom wall.

You didn’t have the strenght to do anything. You felt empty and useless. Worthless. You felt that the world would be a much better place and your siblings would have a much better life if you weren’t there. Because overall, what have you already achieved?

It hit you like a brick in the face.

The feelings you were hiding behind fake smiles and laughter from your friends and siblings came over you and your wall began to crumble. As if your clear thinking was switched off, you walked to your desk and looked for something that was sharp.

With a short-circuit reaction, you unscrewed the screw on your work scissors and took one of the cutting knives with you on the floor. Then you looked for your suicide note from one of your notepads that you had written months ago and put it next to you.

You were done with this world and yourself. Thoughts have been your enemy for too long and you have been a victim of their violence for too long. You wanted to put an end to them for a long time, but you have never been ready to take this last step. Until now.

The angel on your shoulder lost the fight against the devil.

There was blood everywhere. A puddle had almost formed on the floor. And you? You sat leaning against your bed on the floor. Your arms covered in blood and your clothes soaked in red.

The sight of it made Amelias own blood freeze. Her eyes widened and all the color drained from her face. Amelia stood there frozen and could not move. It felt like her heart skipped a beat. The seconds she stood so stiffly felt like years until she finally regained control of her body. She was completely overwhelmed and did not know what to do.

The brown-haired had so many thoughts running through her head and it felt like her skull would rip in half and her brain would finally jump out of her head. Her head pounded wildly with one simply question at the first place. Why did you do this? What brought you here?

Quietly she heard an „Amy? Are you okay?“.

It was Dereks voice, he had dropped her off at home and was supposed to leave right away but he stayed to make sure everything was okay, he had a queasy stomach all morning. And the feeling he had was right.

She turned her head to the left and noticed her brother now standing behind her. „Derek..“ was the only thing she got out before he cut her out. „Damn it, what is going on here?“ he said confused and immediately ran to you while you looked at him sadly.

Barely audible you whispered, „Go away. Please. You shouldn’t be here yet.“

While Derek tried to clear his mind and help you, Amelia was slightly relieved that she was no longer alone with this situation and she had someone, who thought clearer at the moment.

It took her a moment to understand the situation before she let herself fall in front of you and looked at you with fear and panic in her eyes. Derek just swore and ran into the bathroom. Seconds later he came out with a pile of towels.

„Here, we have to try to stop the bleeding. Push as hard as you can and call an ambulance.“ He spoke out of mind, in complete contrast to his sister, and threw one at her.

Immediately she did what she was told and dug out her cell phone with one hand and dialed the emergency number while the white towel under her other hand turned red in seconds.

She explained the situation in a flash, gave the address and hung up as soon as she was assured that both the ambulance and the emergency doctor would be there shortly. Now her focus was fully on you.

Derek had meanwhile taken off his jacket, tore it in two parts and tied your arms above the cuts as best as he could.

„Help is on the way.“ was the only thing that got out of Amelias mouth without taking her gaze from you for a second.

Your eyes were about to close and you heard Derek screaming at your sister almost in panic that they had to keep you awake. „Hey, sweetie. You have to stay with us, you understand? We need you here. Don’t you dare to leave me alone now! You said to me that only stupid people leave and you are definitely not stupid. There is a solution for everything, we can do this together, but you have to stay awake and keep fighting now, okay?“

Amelia looked at your pale face and there was so much pain in her eyes that it stung your heart.

In the background you could already hear the sirens on an ambulance which were getting louder and louder. Shortly afterwards you could hear a lot of people running on the stairs and you could see the paramedics in the door frame.

Immediately they put you on a stretcher and took you down to the ambulance. Amelia held your hand the whole time to show you that you were no alone while Derek, who was just as shocked as at the beginning, now stood in the doorway and watched the paramedics and you.

Once at the ambulance, Amelia had to let go of your hand, unwillingly. The doors oft he ambulance closed in a flash and the gravel crunched and dusted under the tires, which started moving at a frantic pace.

Your siblings watched the car afterwards, even after he had disappeared from their field of vision, until the sirens only reached them very quietly. Amelia sank down on her knees completely exhausted, tears streaming down her face as she didn’t notice anything of what was happening around her.

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

Mirror Moon #3

I received my issue yesterday and want to talk about it. As always, I’ll be tagging my spoilers as #Mirror Moon Spoilers to anyone who wants to avoid them! I’ll be talking about #3 and reflecting on the #2 and #1 issues in this post.

In this issue, we finally find out what’s been going on with Jack Skellington and the rest of the town. It turns out Halloween Town is in chaos with the unpredictable ‘copies’ of the Residents and Jack’s method of delivering all the Halloween supplies. Sally puts two-and-two together and realizes he’s been cloning people with the mirror. She ends up visiting his house and finds her doppelganger talking with him, about the mirror and his plans.

We learn that Jack hasn’t realized everyone’s been copied, and thinks he’s talking to the real Sally. He explains that the mirror duplicates whatever it reflects from the moonlight. And since he doesn’t have his curtains shut, the mirror sends a beam outside and copies whatever it touches, hence everyone getting accidentally-duplicated in Town. When showing this to the Sally-clone, he incidentally reflects sunlight on her and effectively erases her from existence. Thus, the realization - sunlight erases what’s created by the moonlight.

Jack goes to trying to amplify sound, putting headphones on(however that logic works), and doesn’t even hear the real Sally talking to him. She writes him a note that he’s unintentionally duplicating people and leaves him alone with his work. As she leaves Jack’s place, she hears the Mayor’s siren outside, and rushes to see what’s happening. The issue ends here.

...

#3′s cover with Sally stumbling upon Jack talking to a clone makes it look like something deep is happening within the story - only for it to not be the case at all. I and others were starting to theorize that maybe the ‘clones’ were evil and working against the Halloween plans, only for Sally to realize they’re actually harmless and do what they’re told? Which is conflicting, seeing all the trouble Sally’s clone made with the Halloween planning in #2, and the chaos happening in town currently in #3. The copy also has a mischievous smile when she stumbled upon Sally, and while she held the vial of moonlight. I still wouldn’t rule our theory out - but it’s slightly disappointing with the way they’re explaining things at the moment.

...So, if we’re going to the idea of sunlight getting rid of the clones, then how do the vampire brothers step into the story? Are their lack of reflections still plot-relevant? I hope this gets covered in #4, otherwise I have a lot of questions.

I still have a lot of beef with Jack in this story. He hasn’t paid attention to Sally absolutely one bit despite putting her in charge of everything, and still hasn’t acknowledged her while we’re 3 issues in. The way he’s carelessly treating the town while focusing on the mirror makes me highly concerned. I can’t say I’m a fan of how they’re handling his character at all. I still admire all the focus on Sally and her writing....but I’m disappointed she and Jack haven’t had a real conversation where he listens to her quite yet.

This issue involves more Nightmail, which has sneak-peek pages of the next issue, showing Sally meeting the Mayor at his hearse and the town citizens arguing with each other. There’s another art-in-progress page of her running a town meeting and talking to everyone with their clones. I hope the next edition answers questions that they’re bringing up, and we can finally see *when* exactly Sally breaks the mirror.

Overall, I think I was expecting a bit too much from this story. We had a really deep theory going on involving Jack and the clones, but I don’t think we’re going to get anything close to that. I am also still frustrated about the entire ordeal with ordering this series and their constantly-changing release dates. But I’ll still be waiting on #4 to release and come, just so I can get some answers to everything.

[faetedwill]

Catch My Drift || Sloane & Cass

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Flagg’s Froyo PARTIES: @faetedwill @stolensiren SUMMARY: Sloane and Cass hang out over froyo. It’s soft. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Things hadn’t been as rocky as Sloane thought they might have been after the window incident. She and Cass carried on like nothing happened, and really, Sloane felt like that’s what she needed. Normalcy was hard to find, after all of these strange happenings across town, and she was glad that she could find that in Cass, even if she was a little worried about what would happen if her mom found out. So staying away from her house, and steering clear of the headstone shop was their best bet at finding time to hang out. Of course, Cass knew nothing about any of this, and Teagan’s voice telling Sloane to be truthful came ringing dry and clear every so often. 

But for now, they could enjoy their froyo in peace. They sat on the back patio across from one another, Sloane’s toppings beginning to melt into the cookie dough batter flavor she’d gotten. “Do you want to try some of this?” She grinned at Cass from behind her cup as she picked it up off of the table, spooning some of the cereal and cheesecake toppings into her mouth. “You better act quick, I might finish it off before you get the chance.” 

Ignoring things she didn’t want to see was a thing Cass had always been pretty good at. Growing up in foster care taught her to close her eyes to the bad things in order to make the good ones feel better, and it was a habit she’d carried with her long after she left the system. So… She ignored the way Sloane hadn’t invited her back to her house since the window incident. She ignored the way Sloane tended to want to avoid the entire part of town where her mom’s shop was as long as Cass was with her. She ignored the way she sometimes felt like a secret. She accepted the good, and she ignored the bad. And it really wasn’t that hard, because the good was good. It really was.

Like, who wouldn’t enjoy eating froyo with their crush? Sloane still wanted to hang out with her, even if she didn’t want her parents to know. That meant something. Right? Grinning at the other girl’s question, Cass leaned forward and scooped her spoon into Sloane’s cup to steal a taste, popping it into her mouth. “Ugh, that’s amazing,” she sighed, nudging her own cup towards Sloane on the table. “Here, taste mine! It’s got M&Ms.” It was, perhaps, the unhealthiest cup of froyo imaginable, with a rainbow of different candy practically making the froyo itself invisible. Cass was very proud of it. 

“It’s good, right?” Sloane was an expert in froyo combinations. She and her dad had come here more times than she could count, especially when Sloane was younger. At Cass’s offer, Sloane nodded. “Sure, let me try.” The banshee dipped her spoon into Cass’s froyo, taking only as much as the other girl had, before humming around the spoon. “That’s really good, but I think mine is better.” Sloane knocked her foot against Cass’s playfully before she set the cup down, warming her hands by rubbing them together. 

“It’s been nice, not having to worry about classes… I’m not looking forward to them starting back up.” She let out an annoyed sigh before dropping her head backwards, gaze following some birds who had been startled out of some neighboring trees. “A part of me wants to… I don’t know, quit?” She shook her head. She liked learning about the things that she did, and she liked getting into arguments in class with people who knew nothing, but it was frustrating, knowing that so much of her time would be soon cut out by classes once again. 

“So good,” Cass confirmed with a bright grin, tilting her cup towards Sloane to make it easier for her to scoop out a bite. Sloane’s cup was definitely more put together than Cass’s and, okay, probably tasted better overall, but the siren still let out an exaggerated gasp at the other girl’s claim. “You’re biased,” she accused, hiding her grin behind her froyo cup. “Mine has charm.” She nudged Sloane’s foot right back, feeling warm in spite of the cold bite of the cup against her palms. 

She hummed, setting the cup down on the table and listening as Sloane spoke. “You made it a lot farther than I ever did,” she offered with a small shrug. “But… For what it’s worth, I think you can do anything you want to do. You’re, like, one of the smartest people I know. College or no college, that’s not going to change.” 

“I am biased, so what?” She glanced down her nose at Cass, the recognizable warm feeling starting to build in her chest. If she could get the other girl to smile like that, just for a little while longer, then Sloane would feel as though she could conquer anything. Even though it’d been awhile ago now, the look on Cass’s face when Sloane had sent her out the window still played at the back of her mind, and while she knew that in this situation honesty might be the best policy, she couldn’t let Cass get herself hurt after knowing the truth. 

“Oh, shut up.” Sloane tapped her foot against Cass’s again with a laugh. “You’re like, really smart, too, and you don’t need to go to college for that to be true.” She knew that maybe having this discussion could be a point of contention for Cass, but it wasn’t ever a conversation that they had had before. “If you could go back to school, what would you go back for?” 

“You should… analyze your personal biases. Or something.” Cass really didn’t know what that meant, but she’d heard it somewhere once and it sounded smart enough to drop in conversation as a trump card. If nothing else, it might make Sloane laugh, and that had been Cass’s main goal for a while now. There was always such a thrill that came with being the cause of that laughter, like winning the lottery times a thousand. Cass wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And there it was. The laugh made her feel light, and her grin widened in response to it even as the tips of her ears burned hot with the compliment. She’d never thought of herself as smart, and most of her teachers had seemed to agree with the assessment. But… if Sloane thought she was, maybe there was some truth to the concept. Cass considered the question with a thoughtful furrow to her brow. “Maybe… Social work. Something that would let me help people who no one else is helping, you know?” People who were in situations like the ones she’d grown up in.

“What does that even mean?” Sloane let out a small laugh knowing that Cass was just being playful. “Have you analyzed yours? What do those look like, hm?” She tilted her head to the side, a mocking, but affectionate grin still poised on her features. If this were somewhere different, if she were someone different, then Sloane might admit the obvious right here and now. 

As Sloane listened to Cass explain what she might do had she actually finished college, she simply stayed quiet. She knew that it lined up with her background, and it was obviously something important to her. Sloane looked down at her cup of half-eaten froyo and began to stir the spoon around. “I think you’d do really well with that, by the way. You know how to talk to people, how to make sure they’re comfortable.” She smiled at Cass, that same fond-head-over-heels smile taking up most of her features. “I think you could still do stuff like that, helping people, even without the degree.” She shrugged gently before taking another bite of her froyo. “We could look into it, maybe, if it was something you really wanted?” Anything to not focus on the obvious, Sloane thought. 

Sloane laughed, just like Cass had hoped she might, and Cass felt like she was on top of the world. It was moments like this that made her forget the ache of crawling out the other girl’s bedroom window, moments like this that made it easy to close her eyes to the way she hadn’t been back to Sloane’s house since, to the way Sloane had pretty actively ensured that was the case. She grinned, tilting her head to the side. “Well, they’re personal, aren’t they? I can’t go blabbing them in a froyo shop for all the world to… analyze. If you wanna hear them, you’d have to get close enough for me to whisper.” It was a joke, but the idea of Sloane getting that close made her heart flutter in her chest. This was what people meant when they said ‘butterflies in the stomach.’ Cass had thought it was a pretty stupid metaphor until now.

It was more than the way Sloane’s smile brightened up whatever room she was in, too. It was more than the fact that she was beautiful, even though she definitely was. It was this, too. It was the way Sloane listened to Cass, the way she asked her questions and cared about the answers, the way she offered help and advice because she genuinely wanted good things for Cass and not because she just wanted to be right. “You really think so?” Cass had never given much thought to whether or not she’d be good at social work. It never seemed like there was much of a point to it. It was something out of reach. She didn’t give much thought to whether she’d be a good astronaut, either, for the same reason. But… Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing to hope for something. Looking at Sloane, she thought hoping might be all right after all. “Yeah,” she agreed, “I think it’d be good to look into it. I volunteer sometimes, but… it’d be nice to do more, too.” 

Sloane arched a brow as she watched Cass from across the table. She wanted to hear exactly what biases Cass might have, but most of all, she wanted to know what kind of biases she had towards herself, even if technically this wasn’t the right use of the psycho-analyzation at all, it wasn’t like Sloane knew that. She felt the warmth in her chest rise to the back of her neck at Cass’s words. In order to fill the silence, Sloane cleared her throat and began to scrape her chair back, as if she might get up. Really, she could use some water— maybe she could use it as an excuse to get up and then sit back down closer to Cass without the awkward motion of dragging her chair all the way around. 

So she did just that, glancing towards the small water cooler in the corner of the small patio. There were plastic cups flipped upside down so that bugs couldn’t get inside, and she beelined straight for them, her fingertips prickling with the embarrassment and warmth she felt. At Cass’s question, Sloane looked over her shoulder and nodded firmly. “I think so, yeah. I’m sure there are… different ways to go around it, you know?” She knew jack shit about social work, but she believed that Cass could do anything, and she wanted to help her get to that point, too. After filling the two cups full of slightly warm water, Sloane set them down onto the table, taking the closest seat next to Cass instead of the one she had had previously. She grabbed her froyo and busied her hands and mouth with it, taking a large enough bite to incite brain freeze. “Volunteering is a good place to start, I think— I mean, I don’t really know… about any of it, but we can look into it, it shouldn’t be that hard to find stuff, right?” She smiled at Cass softly, the new feeling of closeness all that filled her mind now, even if in some ways, it still felt like they were worlds apart. 

Sloane stood to get water, and Cass watched her go. It was strange, she thought, that there was none of that usual fear that came with people walking away, even for a few minutes. There were few people Cass trusted to come back when they walked away, and she wasn’t sure when Sloane had become one of them. But… It felt good to be able to sneak another bite of her friend’s froyo instead of feeling anxious about her temporary absence. It made her feel less like a damaged, unreasonable kid and more like a normal person. 

“You’re probably right,” she replied around the plastic spoon in her mouth, offering Sloane a grateful grin as she set the water down. “Maybe there’s, like, certifications or something.” Looking into it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. She had Jonas’s antique shop, but… She wasn’t sure she could work there forever. It hurt, being there when he was gone. And Cass couldn’t do the restorations people had come to him for, anyway. Eventually, they were going to stop coming. She shifted as Sloane took a seat closer to her instead of the one she’d vacated, heart picking up the pace now that her friend was close enough for Cass to feel the heat coming off her body. She wondered if her heartbeat was loud enough for Sloane to hear. It seemed impossible that it wasn’t, with how it was pounding. “Yeah,” she breathed, those butterflies going haywire now. “I’m sure we could figure it out together. Like a study d— session. But, you know, with a different kind of… studying.” 

“Oh, like a GED or something?” Sloane nodded. It wouldn’t be that hard to find some kind of information on how to get involved, even if it wasn’t necessarily as a case worker. “We can look into it.” She wanted Cass to know that she was there for her, and even if Cass did decide to venture out on her own regarding her future state of employment, Sloane would be there to back her up, need be, including both disappointments and achievements. 

Sloane picked up her water and took a sip before folding her hands over the armchairs, fingers pressing into the softened wood. She looked straight ahead, only glancing towards Cass as she began to stumble over her words. “What’s a different kind of studying? Do you mean like, just looking things up instead of having to learn about it?” She leaned to the side, slightly away from Cass so that she could see her fully. Propping her chin up in the heel of her hand, Sloane hummed. “I like reading about things I’m interested in, so I’m sure it’ll go by fast.” The warmth at the back of her neck and her chest was set ablaze by the look on Cass’s face. Could the other girl hear the way her heart pounded in her chest? “But we can do it, right? Together?” The question of what Cass’s biases came to Sloane’s attention the longer she stared across the small distance, and the urge to ask once again sprung forth. “Did you find your inside voice yet, by the way?” She let out another laugh before looking down at the leg of the table, a bright green twisted together with some rust chipping away at the bottom. 

“Yeah, something like that. I mean, a lot of the social workers I knew weren’t exactly… smart, sometimes.” It was probably a mean thing to say, but it was the truth. Some of the social workers who’d been involved with Cass’s case had genuinely cared about the outcome, but the majority of them… Well. There were a lot of reasons social work called to Cass. One of the biggest ones was the fact that she knew from experience that there were a lot of kids in the system with no one in their corner. And she was learning now that having someone in your corner really could make all the difference in the world. 

Like Sloane, for example. Cass had Sloane so firmly in her corner that she was offering to help her with this with no expectation of getting anything in return. She just… wanted to do good. For Cass’s benefit only. That kind of support made it feel like Cass could believe in herself, too. “I’m sure we could find a way to make it fun,” she agreed, because she was pretty sure anything would be fun with Sloane. “Together, for sure.” She swallowed, the distance between them seeming like inches and miles at the same time. At Sloane’s words, Cass found herself leaning in unconsciously, closer and closer until she could feel Sloane’s breath against her skin. “I… think I found something, for sure,” she said, barely a whisper. Her throat felt dry, her pulse racing. 

Sloane had been taught by her mom that empathizing with humans could only do one thing: cause trouble. But Sloane did empathize with Cass, and while she was sure she’d hear more about her experiences as a child who was brought up in the system, Sloane was ignorant to the happenings of those systems, as much as she hated to admit it. Her entire life had been fantastical and filled with that of fae culture— human culture, for the most part, had been out of her field of view, at least, aside from what her own dad would teach her, and what she would experience first hand. But none of that could ever be equated to the things that Cass had seen or experienced. “I think you’d do really good, in a role like that.” The twisted feeling in her stomach was not a mangling, but roots twisting and turning. Hope, maybe, Sloane thought. 

“Even if it’s not, that’s okay.” Not everything had to be some fantastic adventure, and even though Sloane wouldn’t admit it (at least not now) anything with Cass could already been as such. All fears aside, Sloane knew that her mom wouldn’t be able to say anything about Sloane falling for a human. Or maybe she would. Sloane didn’t plan on ever finding out. Sloane glanced up from the table leg to look back at Cass, her own breath catching in her throat. Even though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. She thought about her conversation with Metzli and how Cass thought she was cool, about how she had hid the fact that she, too, thought Cass was cooler than cool very poorly. Sloane flexed her fingers against the arm chair before mirroring the girl at her side, leaning in slightly. “And what does that look like?” This would be the best time, wouldn’t it? Pre-activation, before Sloane could hurt Cass, or see her demise. Now would be the simplest time to engage in this, whatever this was. “I think I found something, too,” Sloane said after a moment, throat beginning to feel scratchy from the realization of what might happen. 

The thing was, Sloane believed in Cass like she was easy to believe in. It wasn’t true — Cass could admit that she was difficult, sometimes, that she was stubborn and reckless and impulsive and probably had more of an ego than she’d care to admit — but Sloane acted like it was, anyway. She never pointed out any of the flaws that made Cass a difficult person to like. She just… liked her anyway. And it never felt like it was in spite, never felt like Sloane just ignored those flaws or broken pieces. Sloane saw them. She just accepted them, too. Like it was easy, like it was worth it. It made Cass feel like she could take on the whole world, sometimes. When Sloane told her she’d be good at something, Cass believed her. 

She smiled a little, nodding her head quickly as if there was any world in which she and Sloane wouldn’t have fun just being together. She’d never not had a good time with Sloane. The only time she’d really come close had been in the bedroom with the open window, when her heart broke a little and the world felt a little heavier on her shoulders. But they were past that now, weren’t they? Whatever Cass thought it had been, it hadn’t. If it were, Sloane wouldn’t be sitting so close to her now. She wouldn’t be leaning in even more, wouldn’t be looking at her with wide eyes and a nervous air about her. “It kind of looks like the best thing ever,” she said quietly, eyes darting down to Sloane’s lips without her meaning for them to. It was kind of now or never, wasn’t it? Chewing her lip nervously, she mustered up all the bravery she could manage, leaned in, and… 

A kid ran by, bumping the table in a rush to get to the froyo machine ahead of his sister. One of the paper cups Sloane had filled with water toppled over, spilling into Cass’s lap and startling her backwards. And just like that, the moment was over. Her face flushed bright red, and she quickly grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the table with a nervous laugh. “Great, now my pants are all wet,” she laughed, patting herself dry as best she could. “That’s, um — The price we pay for. For froyo. Right?” 

For a moment, all of the fear that Sloane had felt over Cass’s untimely demise because of her own actions fell to the wayside. For a moment, it was just the two of them. It was Sloane sitting across from a pretty girl who looked like she’d been born from the sun, but had made sure to take a part of the moon on her way out. For a moment, Sloane could have sworn she felt her heart piece itself back together from that time in her room— like it had never happened. Like this was the only thing that had happened between them. It was new, and it was exciting, and it made Sloane’s head feel heavy on her shoulders, like she might fall to the side, cinderblock for bone structure. Everything felt like so much more, but everything felt like it was built in this moment, too, like there was nothing else. 

Sloane noticed the way Cass looked at her, and it was another example of how they mirrored one another, of how they complimented in each other, in the simplest of terms. As soon as Cass leaned in, Sloane felt herself leaning, too. What she expected was to feel Cass’s hand on her face like in the movies— or maybe she’d thread her fingers through the other girl’s hair, but instead, their table rocked with uncertainty and water went flying. 

The banshee sprung back slightly, her heart in her throat and blush creating patterns into her cheek. Sloane blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of how the kid had screwed up such an essential moment for the two of them. But maybe this was for the better— maybe this made more sense than them kissing. Maybe that kid had saved both of them further heartbreak, because what would happen if they took that next step? Sloane rubbed the underside of her jaw with a laugh. “Yeah, um, I guess. That, and the six dollars it took to actually… get it.” Sloane gathered some more napkins from the dispenser and held them out with a shaky hand towards Cass. “I can drive you home, if you want?” The moment was over, and while disappointment willfully etched itself into Sloane’s expression, a part of her knew it was for the better. 

It was almost funny, how completely the moment was ruined. There was no recapturing it, no putting things back the way they’d been just a heartbeat ago when there was nothing but a few centimeters of air between them. Whatever courage Cass had found that drove her forward was dried up now, replaced with the nervousness that sprung up in its place the moment the cup of water spilled into her lap. The kids were still running around the shop, clueless as to what they’d interrupted. Their parents were trailing behind them, chatting absently with one another. The world spun on as if nothing had happened at all.

But Sloane wasn’t angry. It was pretty obvious what they’d been moving towards, and Sloane didn’t seem disgusted by it. She’d seemed receptive, even. Like she’d wanted it, too. And that brought something else to the flutter in Cass’s chest, too, brought something in to live alongside the nervousness. Hope. Hope that maybe she wasn’t fooling herself here. She was disappointed that the kiss hadn’t happened, sure, but… She felt a little more confident that it could now. Maybe there were just a couple barriers she had to sneak past first. It was lucky, she supposed, that she was such an excellent sneaker.

Clearing her throat again, Cass nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed, “that and the six dollars.” She took the napkins with a grateful nod, mostly just to give her hands something to do. All the water that could be dried with anything less than time or heat was already done with, but it gave her something to focus on that wasn’t the blush crawling up her neck. “Yeah,” she agreed with a quick nod. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Gotta get some — Some dry clothes, you know?”