#Lyn Prompts

[autumnslance]

this might seem out of the blue, but i can't recall the answer for the life of me: do you know if urianger ever uses the formal "ye"? i can recall instances of "you," but not "ye". 🤔

My Local Urianger Likers (@gunbun and @theepicreboot) can't recall a time he used it himself, only quoting some of the things he tends to reference, like the old prophecies and poetry where he learned to speak Like That. Which sounds right to me; I do think he tends to use the informal a lot more. Especially in more recent expansions; his tendency for Very Poetic Early Modern English has relaxed very slightly since ARR.

[lynmars79]

— MUTUAL CATCHUP —

tagged by @rinzukodas

LAST SONG: "Flow" from FF14 Endwalker. I was listening to a bunch of FF music earlier and that's one of the last ones on that playlist.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: Just Candela Obscura at the moment; haven't really been following the main Critical Role campaign for a few weeks. There's a buncha shows and films I do want to catch up on though...

THREE SHIPS:

Goliath/Elisa Maza (saw some saucy art the other day)

John Sheridan/Delenn (Reactor Mag's starting a B5 rewatch)

Clive Rosfield/Jill Warrick (Fire & Ice slowburn in FF16)

FAVORITE COLOR(s): Blues.

CURRENTLY INTO: Agreeing with Rin's change of wording here. So in no particular order:

Midst - Podcast, weird scifi western, 3 unreliable narrators, a fascinating cast and unique setting. Morally questionable people who think they're each in control of things (they're not) and a cult/government that uses morality for currency and social status. Hosted by Critical Role, but they let Third Person do their own thing. The videos are mildly animated art, the sound and music are amazing, I love how they use words and like combing through the transcripts, there are appendices with lore each episode. It's in its 3rd and final season, wrapping up a distinct story. Episodes are only 15-40ish mins long, 19 episodes a season. It's great please listen (with headphones on for the sound design).

FF7 Rebirth - Watching a friend play. It's pretty great but oh so many sidequests and minigames! The story changes are fascinating and often clarifies or explains things that were nonsense or ignored in the original. Adds new mysteries and oddities all its own. Adds in some things from side games in the same world (like Cissnei).

FF16 - Have to watch friends play this too as I have no PS5 and am waiting for the PC release. I love the characters and the overall story (tho I have my quibbles). Also could use some more sidequests and minigames, but Rebirth took all of them.

Flight Rising - clicky browser game where you breed pretty dragons, giving them patterns they can pass on to offspring. Can dress them up, give them familiars, play games, fight coliseum battles. I've been playing to one degree or another for 10+ years. I'm currently trying to catch up my neglected familiars and max out their bonds.

FIRST SHIP: Probably from the 1980s cartoons when I was a kid. I don't remember. There's been so many.

PLACE OF BIRTH: The clinic no longer exists, actually.

CURRENT LOCATION: My bedroom.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Happily Single

LAST MOVIE: Legit cannot remember; rarely watch movies, though there's plenty on my To Watch list…

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: an original fantasy story. I know the characters, I know the plot. I know the world state. Backstories. Figuring out where and when it starts, how characters get to various points and places (and what they change in my plans along the way). Have more research to do but want to have the general shape wrangled into place to narrow that down.

TAGGING: whoever wants to!

[mintibunny]

Writer's Game: First Sentences

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven't written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

Tagged by @autumnslance ♥️

Tagging: @circle-woman, @ranekvilmas, @trixcuomo, @darbiebot, and @bread-elf.

This is going to take some digging, but let me see what I got. And thank you for the tag! It's nice to see people reading my offerings.

I could've sworn there was another Suzaku writing in my blog, but I can't find it. I'll give you a cookie if you can dig it up for me!

Edit: FOUND IT! On Sabbac's blog. Unfortunately, it was posted in September, so it doesn't count for this meme. :\

"Lost Things," posted 3/8/23. A short about Suzaku and the WoL.

"There were no feathers on the windowsill today. Same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before."

2. "Untitled," posted 2/24/23. A letter from the esteemed Lady Frangelica Treleaux to Lord Edmont Fortemps. I tend to make these things very formal.

"From the desk of Lady Frangelica Treleaux."

3. "And Now We Say Good-Night," posted 11/17/22. Zoissette gets time with her Scion.

"I don't know what to tell you, other than that she's been lying on the fainting couch for hours, not really moving."

4. "DWC, Day 7 - Endless," posted 11/26/22. Zeragosa the dragon takes to new skies, and Sabbac the troll gets her happily ever after.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for the portal to Dalaran."

5. "DWC, Day 6 - Unnatural," posted 11/25/22. Caramelle the Lightforged entertains at the Darkmoon Faire.

"Gather round, children of all ages! Come close. I promise I don't bite."

6. "DWC, Day 5 - Lush," posted 11/24/22. Dakora the Tauren writes about Pilgrim's Bounty in a haiku

"This day is for thanks"

7. "DWC, Day 4 - Children," posted 11/23/22. Belle "Anne" Fairweather continues a cycle of familial violence.

"Through heavy rains and lingering clouds of blight, Belle Anne flew, her raven form giving her the speed she needed tonight."

8. "DWC, Day 3 - Mortality," posted 11/22/22. Satoyo Ironpaw, an aging Pandaren, gives a tavern speech.

"Friends! Friends, family. How wonderful it is that we are gathered here at one of the finest eating establishments in all of Pandaria – no, the whole of Azeroth!"

9. "DWC, Day 2 - Orbit," posted 11/21/22. Goblin engineering at their finest. I don't have a good summary for this writing.

"Field Notes! Official! For Grunilda Torchlite (with an e, babe, that’s how I fucking roll)."

10. "DWC, Day 1 - Neglect," posted 11/20/22. This was the first writing where I was ending Sabbac's story.

"Sabbac, was, at this moment, surrounded by dark tan boxes in her Silvermoon studio apartment."

[dilfhos]

*busts down your door* OKAY LISTEN HERE. I DONT SIMP FOR TOJI BUT I WANT YOU TO HAVE FUN AND CREATE CHAOS SO THIRSTY ASK: TOJI HUMILIATING READER CAUSE SHE WANTS TO RIDE THAT DICK SO BAD BUT HE WONT LET HER 😭😭😭😭

for meeeeeee? :O

WHO: TOJI FUSHIGURO x FEM!READER

+degradation, dacryphilia, dirty talk, overstim, use of bitch (half affectionate or not idc >:)), brat-taming.

MINORS + ageless blogs DNI.

You think it’s over. He’s finally given you what you want and you’re grinning…

“No,” Toji suppresses the urge to grin at the sight of your reactions, his hands only coming up to brush away the ones gripped on his shirt. “Not in the mood t’night.”

You sit back, palms spread across the expanse of his chest as you peer up at him. He offers a scowl in return before his hips are bucking, a signal for you to get off. Flopping beside him in defeat, you glare at the magazine he deemed more important than what you were offering. Baiting. And needing.

“Why’re you being like this?” He sighs emphatically as if your very presence in the shared bedroom was a complete hindrance to the mundane task of reading at ten in the evening.

“Why’re you actin’ like you call the shots? It’s a turn-off y’know?” He sneers.

“You’re a turn-off,” You mumble half-heartedly. He’s intentionally silent.

Toji’s left you unsatisfied for weeks, his grumbles of work becoming redundantly annoying. It only drives the desperation and lowers your dignity as you find yourself overwhelmed with need for just an inkling of his attention.

To him, it was one of many games he enjoyed playing in way of fucking with your head. Oh, how you looked with dumbstruck eyes as he brushed you off as any other woman and not his lover, The gears in your head turning as you tried desperately to force your way back into his arms. His curt responses and blatant rejection only fueled you to push harder. He enjoyed shoving you to the brink of crumbling, only for him to grip all your pieces back together.

Your brazen shows were adorably tempting but not enough for him to loosen his resolve. (Not yet.)

Like now, as you’ve deliberately flexed your body toward your nightstand to retrieve your water. The shirt—his shirt—rises up over your hips to expose the cheeky thong embedded between your ass and Toji’s eyes move to the back of your head until you turn around, an incredulous expression on his face.

“Desperate huh,”

“I don’t know what you mean,” You shrug, eyes darting away. “‘M not gonna force you to be intimate, I’ll just find someone else to occupy my time. Maybe G-”

“Look at you, fuckin’ slut.” He places his reading material on the nightstand as he stands. “You’re pouting and baiting after I said no to touching your little cunt. Why don’t you go fuck yourself, hm?” There’s an amused lilt to his words as his brow twitches implicitly.

You frown, thighs flexing at his cruel, harsh tone, completely unfazed. Why would you waste time with your toys when you could have the real thing in all its thick, heavy glory?

Toji was absolute in his decisions up until now, never looking your way all week in your skimp sets and not bothering to say anything to your advances. But when you tried to act innocent or even worse, play on his emotions, it made him wanna see you cry.

Literally.

It’s why his grip is so bruising and his body is hard stone as he looms over your trembling body, ecstatic at the fat tears rolling down your swollen cheeks.

“It’s t’much!”

“Too much she says,” He chuckles, a maniacal grin on his face. He merely shoves your punily fumbling hands aside, attacking your swollen clit with his calloused thumb. “No, I think this is exactly enough. For needy little bitches like you?”

Your hips rear off the bed electrified, tears falling as you slap at his wrists in desperation.

“Won’t do it again! T’much….TOJI!”

“Mhm, lemme hear you again slut,” His hand strikes firmly against your tits, the sting sending your body squirming. His fingers are merciless as they pinch and pull at your taut nipples, his grin only widening when he feels you coming undone.

Your essence flows like a flood, drenching his arm and sheets in downpour. He’s still going, arm flexing with finesse as his fingers rub against your ridges, that abused spot inside you making more tears fall.

“Please, no more! N’more!” Your cunt squelches as it weeps around his digits, your frantic whines falling on uncaring ears. Your legs splay instinctively in an attempt to kick him off but he’s shoving them away, crawling over you with his weight.

“Stop moving. You asked for this,” He grumbles, pinning your wrist under his large palm. His others is shoving your sticky thighs apart again, exposing your sloppy cunt to the cool air. You’re too stunned to realize the fat head of his cock slickening your folds until he’s shoving himself in, grip tightening on your wrists when you buck off the bed. His hand smushes your damp cheeks together, drinking in your disheveled state as his stroke begin, punishable.

“Oh baby, look at me now. Talk for me like you were doing earlier,” he cooed wickedly, your blubbering incoherent.

“‘M sorry, please!” You’re not sure whether you’re begging him to stop or ravage you more, you’re only stuck on the overbearing pressure building in your tummy again. His cock is fat and heavy as it drags through your slobbering cunt, the paps of skin deafening over your whines.

“Keep crying, just gonna make me fuck ya’ harder, heh.” He releases you, hands palming your thighs flush against the mattress as he thrusts into you. The bed rattles on its legs as you cry his name, the noises around him synonymous to his own growls.

“Take it. Take daddy’s fat dick baby, I wanna see you cryin’” You’re clinging to his wrists, your whining incoherent as your vision doubles with tears. There’s a blurry Toji above you, grinning down like a fucked god at its prize, watching as you cry and squirm in his grip. It isn’t until his hand comes up to snake around your jaw when you’re mumbling promises that you’ll be good from now on. That you’ll love him forever no matter how mean he is! That no one ever compares to Toji! Not even him!

“‘M cumming! T-Toji!” It isn’t until his hand delivers a quick succession of pats against your wet cheek does your cunt clamp him in like a vice. He grunts as you grab him, wrapping your arms around his thick neck, your heels digging into the small of his back as you tug him close. His nut jets into you, Toji’s hips shallowly grinding against your ass. He stills momentarily, face nuzzling the side of your damp neck before he rises.

You think its over. He’s finally given you what you want and you’re grinning. A fucked-out mess, sighing blissfully as you prepare to move. In one lithe motion however, he has you by your ankle as you’re now on your stomach, face smushed into the mattress by his palm.

“Now tell me again about Gojo.”

DILFOS. DO NOT PLAGIARIZE MY CONTENT—CURRENT OR ARCHIVAL.

[lindalofbroome]

28 - Growth

'But we cannot knowingly leave someone at the mercy of the Granous!' Lief hissed. 'They will ask him their infernal riddles, and when he cannot answer them they will start biting off his fingers and toes. They will kill him, Jasmine!' 'Better that they kill a stranger than that they kill us,' Jasmine said. And Lief knew that she was repeating a lesson she had learned only too well in the terror that was the Forests of Silence. For a moment he hesitated. He knew that he should not let his heart rule his head in this. But then the piteous cry came again, followed by a scream of pure agony. 'No!' Lief breathed. He started forward. 'Wait! I will go back and fetch the guards,' said Barda, catching at his arm. Lief pulled himself free. 'There is no time for that!' he muttered. 'Come with me or not, as you like.' He began to run, and Jasmine and Barda followed, as he knew they would. DELTORA QUEST 3 Dragon's Nest Ch 7 Dragon Hunt

[qprstobin]

They may be opposite ends of the style spectrum, but steddie is a diva4diva relationship you can tell they both put Soooo much effort into their looks they are fighting over closet space they are fighting over counter space they are harassing each other over how long it takes each other to get ready even though they are both meticulous while trying to look no effort

[theraven-gil-lyn]

09 - Storm

beware the patient woman

[microwraptor2]

Day 4: Outfit Swap!! 🦊🐬

[mihai-florescu]

top-5 mutuals ?

Just 5?? Bro im gonna remember i forgot important ppl as soon as i answer. Thats a very small number... but probably the people i talk to the most then? Let's make this an appreciation post for Pili, Mar, Lina, Pixi & Seb. Because i consider you Friends:) But there are so many more i get sooo happy seeing in my notifs even if we dont talk outside of tumblr. I Would like to talk more tho...

[criticalcrux]

@apocalypta-secundus asked:

❛  just tell me why we're here.  ❜ (Arrancar!Lyn AU @ Grimmjow)

"What, s'which is it? Ya losing yer hearing or ya just not listenin' when I'm talkin'? Cuz one of those is the wrong answer." His tone was weighted, interlaced with sarcastic bite.

"Get yer shit together before we lose th'advantage." He walked over closer to her, his piercing, electrified blue stare locked onto hers.

"We're here to take what should be ours! And the best way t'do it is t'strike first!" But he knew she was already well-aware of the type of assualt he was describing, they'd organized similar strategic confrontations before. It was the best way to handle things in the outlands and it was the only way that they'd expanded their territory.

His territory.

[autumnslance]

WIP ask meme: gimme dat Lahabrea's Memories hit

Oh this one was a long time ago; before it was clear how Hydaelyn's origin worked, or that the soul sight was specific to Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, not necessarily shared with all the Ascians. The first section is Lahabrea in Thancred's body, noting the Scion Echo-users and fighting the reminders of who their souls had once belonged to, versus who they were now, and how Thancred himself saw them.

The second part began to segue into something that has been posted before, and I think this is the draft that eventually became the "Responsibility" and "Bisect" prompts from FFXIV Write 2019.

So I split off and rewrote those 2 prompts into their original and then revised for Ao3 forms, and kept the draft of Lahabrea's angry internal ranting in a folder, if I ever need to come back to it. It would need some heavy revision, given what we know of the Unsundered now, but it's still a good jumping off point.

Excerpt under the cut. And honestly rereading this it sounds to me too similar to Emet-Selch, but now we also know more of who Lahabrea was back then and how that would shape his modern self.

It’s not her, he reminded himself, fighting back bile and rage. This is a broken abomination, a memory of… He couldn’t make himself think of her name. The pain hit him more sharply than expected, after so long. It wasn’t the first time he had felt this; he had seen fragments scattered across the Shards, especially here on the Source. It had been difficult to discern at first, especially bolstered as they had been by their wretched Mother’s own Crystals of Light. The Crystals’ powers faded with her Her own diminishment with each Ardor, but the very souls of the Source were strengthened by the Rejoinings as all else was. A conundrum they had long since decided to ignore; these children were not their brethren, lost so long ago in the catastrophe that had made their actions necessary. Even Rejoined, they would not be the same as those lost, they still would not comprehend what had been. And so they would be sacrificed to regain that glory. He briefly wondered if that was the wisest course after all. No. Put it out of mind; the woman in the room now was not the same as the former colleague who had defied them, had made the counter-summoning possible. No more than the Antecedent was the same person who had conspired with his lost peer. No more than that Ala Mhigan boy in the common room was another he recognized. The metaphorical children of his lost brethren, and opposed to all he believed in, as they had been. Damn them.

[lynmars79]

wait, it’s your birthday?? Happy happy birthday to you! ❤️🎉🎂 May it be a very happy, creative and fulfilled next year of your life ❤️

It is indeed! And thank you! I'm currently in a "too many ideas and not enough time" period and loving it as I obsess over an original story idea, in addition to all my fanfics. And I've got near-future plans for fun things with friends, and roommate is taking me to brunch tomorrow. So pretty decent start to the next rotation around this ol' rock we call home.

[lavenderlyncis]

Lads, I'm gonna participate in the HP Fearfest 2022

And you know what I'm gonna write?

A one shot of Regulus and James from Can't trust his kind where they first meet in Regency Era Enlgand

[t0t411y-n0t-hum4n]

Dialogue prompts but make them lyrics

Each line is meant to be separate dialogue, but you can find some way to put them together. Some of them are verbatim to the lyrics and others are based off of them.

1 - Hug All Ur Friends (Cavetown)

"Tell me your thoughts, I could listen to you all night long"

"Life's too short to worry about the things that we got wrong"

"I forgot how to walk by myself, I could do with a little more of your help"

"I'm not letting go"

2 - flower store (tea)

"I don't know who I really am anymore, it all feels the same but I'm never quite sure"

"I want to work at a flower store, and steal all the roses I couldn't afford"

"Just lay your head down, honey, please don't fret"

"I don't really know if there's anything left, I don't want to fall in love, I want to fall to my death"

3 - Always Lone (Men I Trust)

"I'd rather be the one who got fooled than to have my heart cooled"

"It's hard to see who gains and who plays"

"I always care, but I'm always alone"

4 - papercut (Liana Flores)

"What am I supposed to do? Pretend I'm happy for you?"

"The world can't hurt me anymore when I'm the very best at making myself sore"

"Do you know how it feels to need someone but not be needed anymore?"

"My tongue's still papercut speaking your name"

5 - In My Mind (Lyn Lapid)

"Running isn't enough to escape from the monsters in my brain"

"People say I'm quiet most of the time, if only they knew what went on in my mind"

"What is so wrong with me?"

"Okay so, it was two in the morning, I couldn't sleep, then I had a great idea. (Explain whatever crazy idea they had)"

[lindalofbroome]

09 - Sign

DANGEROUS BRIDGE DO NOT TRY TO CROSS GAP HERE IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE NEXT BRIDGE IS LAST CROSSING BEFORE FORESTS OF SILENCE DELTORA QUEST 3 Dragon's Nest Ch 11 Signs of Trouble

i just think this scene was so funny lmao mostly in hindsight

but also i want to highlight the chapter title, truly one of my favourites for the irony

[perkqularkreashions]

Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle. 

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?” 

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.  

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood. 

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view. 

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent. 

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said. 

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion. 

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke. 

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again. 

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you. 

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of. 

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike. 

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont.  The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.  

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him. 

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him.  Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door. 

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed. 

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth. 

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?” 

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him. 

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. 

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?” 

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control. 

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice. 

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence. 

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor. 

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”  His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples. 

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib. 

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son. 

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you. 

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her. 

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically. 

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her. 

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed. 

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!” 

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat. 

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso. 

 Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under.  She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption. 

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own. 

Goodbye Peach Sallinger.