#So I got them to admit that was a hecking lie

[dreaminginsteadofsleeping42]

Not my bank being a little bitch again.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Girl Next Door

Neighbor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,646

Summary: Joel finds himself overwhelmed by the desire to possess something that belongs to you, leading him to indulge in a secret fantasy.

~Or~

What Odette dreams about

Warnings: 18+, mentions of Tommy being in jail, underwear/ underwear sniffing kink? Unprotected bathroom bar sex, hair pulling, no physical description of reader minus hair being pullable, oral - m!receiving

Notes: NERVOUS AS ALL HECK TO POST THIS AS MY FIRST FIC IN A MINUTE. didn't know I had this kink until I had a similar dream, so don't look at me, but also, if anyone else likes this, please let's talk so I don't feel weird 😂 thanks as always @saradika-graphics for the divider

Joel is restless as he mindlessly tosses his clothes into the washing machine in the shared laundry room of his apartment complex. He can't stop thinking about the woman he saw moving in across the hall. There's just something about her that captivated him, and he can't shake her from his mind.

As he goes to add the detergent to the machine, he notices a basket of laundry sitting next to his. His eyes scan over the pile of clothes until they land on a pair of lacy panties. A thrill run through him as he realises that they were hers - yours.

The ones he saw when he was watching you move boxes, the ones he watched appear when you bent over and your shirt exposed the small of your back.

And before he can talk himself out of it, he quickly grabs the panties, stuffing them into his pocket. He turns around just in time to see you walking into the laundry room.

"Oh, hey there," you say with a friendly smile. "I didn't realize anyone else was using the machines right now."

Joel feels his face flush with embarrassment as he stutters out a response. "Uh, yeah, was just finishin' up."

You chuckle softly. "Well, don't let me interrupt you. I just need to switch my load over to the dryer."

As you bend down to transfer your clothes, Joel can't help but steal a glance at your body. He feels a stirring in his pants, and he quickly looks away, hoping you don't notice.

When you straighten up, you catch him looking and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Joel feels his face grow even hotter. "Uh, yeah, sorry. I just got a little distracted."

You smile knowingly. "Well, I hope it was a good distraction.”

You make small talk as you wait for your laundry to finish, and Joel finds himself even more drawn to you.

As you’re about to leave, you turn to him. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it darlin?"

"Well, I seem to have misplaced a pair of my favorite underwear. I was wondering if you might have seen them around here?"

Joel's mind races as he tries to think of a response. He can't very well admit that he had taken them, could he?

"Uh, no, I haven't seen them," he stammers, hoping you don't notice the lie.

You look disappointed. "Oh, well, thanks anyway. I guess I'll just have to buy a new pair." And with that, you're gone. Shortly after, he gathers his things and leaves.

As soon as he’s outside the room, Joel lets out a sigh of relief. The adrenaline rush from stealing your underwear sends shivers down his spine. He can’t believe how easy that was. This is definitely the highest he's ever felt.

But as he walks away, a wave of guilt washes over him. What kind of sick fuck gets off on stealing women's underwear? He knows how wrong it is, but damn if it doesn't turn him on like nothing else ever could.

He walks aimlessly for a while, trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head. But every time he thinks about those lacy panties clinging to his thigh, he feels his cock throb.

He needs to do something with them. He needs to feel them against his skin, to smell them, to touch them. But what? Should he hide them away in a drawer? Or should he just keep them nearby for whenever the urge struck?

Joel hesitates for a moment before finally making up his mind.

As he walks back into his apartment, he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to feel those panties on his body. The idea of feeling your softness against his skin makes his cock throb even harder.

Joel decides to try and sleep it off. Maybe by morning, the urge would pass, and he would be able to put this whole thing behind him.

He walks toward his bedroom and strips off his clothes before he climbs into bed. But try as he might, sleep eludes him. The urge to grab those panties and explore them with his tongue is too strong to ignore. He continues to shift restlessly in bed until finally giving in to temptation. He reaches down grabbing the soft fabric from his jeans wrapping one hand around his hard cock and using the other hand to bring the fabric up to his nose and inhales deeply.

Joel's hand moves up and down his shaft, stroking with a rhythm that he knows will bring him to climax in no time. He focuses on the sensation of his own hand, the softness of you on the lace, letting out a low moan as he feels himself getting closer to the edge.

But then, just as he's about to come, Joel hesitates. What if you found out? The thought makes him pause, making him wonder if it’s worth the risk. He decides to take a break for now. Throwing the panties to the floor, he lays there for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. But then he can't resist. The urge takes over slowly and then, all at once, crashing over him like a tidal wave about to suffocate him. Joel picks up the panties one more time and brings them close to his face, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he licks them slowly, savoring their scent. He runs his tongue over every inch of fabric before finally taking them into his mouth, sucking on them hungrily. "You taste so sweet baby."

He stops to hold the panties in front of his face, admiring their form, admiring the cut and color. He imagines how it would taste if he were to lick your pretty lips and your pretty little clit, imagining how it would taste when he slips his fingers inside you as you’re making a mess all over his face. It almost makes him come right then.

He moans softly as he imagines all the things he would be doing to you once he gets you alone. How you would feel wrapped around his cock, moaning as he pushes into you. His eyes light up as he envisions how you would feel, naked against him, begging and whimpering as he fucks you. He knows the perfect way to drive you insane; torturing you for pleasure before finally plunging into you, making you scream his name, begging daddy for his big cock. He pictures you writhing and crying underneath him as his seed spills all over your soft skin, filling the air with the musky scent of sex.

His fantasy is interrupted, however, as his phone rings, shattering the illusion of the forbidden paradise his imagination created. Joel groans in frustration, reluctantly answering it.

"Ya?" He demands, his voice rough with need and lust, not bothering to ask who it is.

"Hey, big brother. It's me." it was Tommy, and Joel could only guess what this was about. Tommy had seen himself in jail, his fair share these past few years, and Joel was tired of bailing him out.

"Tommy, I swear to god -" Joel starts, ready cuss out his brother and give him the old "I'm gonna kick your ass..." spiel, but Tommy cuts him off.

"I know what you're gonna say. You're gonna kick my ass. But it wasn't my fault this time. The guy had it comin. He was gonna hurt her. I was just tryin' to help. You gotta respect that, Mr. Southern gentleman himself." Tommy says, sounding sincere enough for Joel to believe him. He relaxes slightly. Tommy never did anything particularly bad, but he always manages to get himself in trouble somehow. Even as kids, he was always bailing Tommy out.

Joel rolls his eyes. “That's what you said the last time. I'm gonna kick your damn ass Tommy. I should leave ya in there."

"Alright, alright, look man-"

"What? Make it good, or I'm goin’ back to bed." Joel says impatiently.

"You bail me out this one last time, and I'll buy you the next round'a beer." Tommy bargains.

Joel can't help but laugh at his brother's proposal. "You're really tryin’ to bribe me with beer, huh? Fine, I'll bail you out one last time. But you better not fuck this up, Tommy, you ain’t gettin' another chance." Joel warns.

"Thanks, Joel. I won't let you down this time, I promise - promise on our mamma," Tommy replies, sounding genuinely grateful.

Joel sighs and hangs up the phone, shaking his head. He can't believe he was letting his brother talk him into this again.

But as he gets dressed and heads out to bail his brother out of jail, Joel can’t shake off the feeling of excitement that still lingers from his earlier encounter. The memory of those lacy panties, the scent of you on his fingers, the taste of you on his tongue - all of it is still fresh in his mind.

As he drives, Joel's mind starts to wander. He can't stop thinking about you, about the way you probably look in those silky panties, the way you feel and taste. He feels himself getting hard again just thinking about it. There’s something about you that draws him in, something that makes him want to possess you, to make you his own.

With one hand on the wheel, his free hand pulls out the underwear from his pocket, his hand shaking with desire as he holds the lacy panties up.

He lets out a low moan, his cock already rock hard in his pants and without thinking, he begins to rub himself through the fabric, imagining it’s your hand on him instead.

The sensation is overwhelming, and Joel can feel himself on the brink of climax almost immediately. He tries to hold back to savor the moment, but it’s no use. Within seconds, he’s coming hard, staining his jeans with his own release.

Panicked, he starts feeling around his truck for something to cover up the stain on his pants. He rummages through the glove compartment and the back seat before finally finding an old sweater that Tommy had left behind on a previous visit.

Joel quickly places the sweater over his bulge, hoping it would be enough to hide the stain.

When he arrives, he parks in the loading zone and jumps out of the truck, still trying to act casual while tying the sweater around his waist. But as he approaches the entrance, he can feel the eyes of the other visitors coming in on him, no doubt noticing the bulge in his pants and the sweater tied around his waist.

As he walks into the jail, his face flushes with embarrassment, and his mind still preoccupies with thoughts of you. He makes his way to the visitor's area, scanning the crowd for Tommy.

When he finally spots his brother sitting at a visitors table, looking bored and impatient, Joel approaches him, trying to act as casual as possible.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel says, as he sits across from him.

Tommy looks up and does a double-take when he sees the sweater tied around Joel's waist. "What the hell happened to you?" Tommy asks, with a smirk on his face.

Joel feels his face grow even hotter with embarrassment. "Nothin’, just spilled some coffee on my pants.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust the sweater tied around his waist. He can feel Tommy's eyes on him, still skeptical about the "coffee" stain.

"Sure thing, big brother. Whatever you say," Tommy says, chuckling to himself.

—

Joel and Tommy walk out of the jail, the weight of the situation heavy between them but still Joel can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him as they step out into the cool night air. He had done his duty as an older brother once again, bailing Tommy out of a sticky situation.

As they make their way to Joel's truck, he can’t shake off the thoughts of you that have been consuming him all day. He wants you, needs you, in a way that he has never felt before.

Tommy notices Joel's distracted state and ribbs him about it. "Hey man, you got a girl on the brain or somethin’? You've been acting weird since you got here."

Joel hesitates for a moment, as much of a dumbass his kid brother is, he’s really all he’s got, "Uh - yeah, there’s this girl... Can't stop thinkin’ about her."

Tommy chuckles. "Well, maybe you should ask her out or somethin’. What's the worst that could happen?"

Joel shakes his head. "It's not that simple. I... I don't even know her name."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "Well, where’d you meet her?"

Joel hesitates for a moment before admitting the truth. "I saw her move the other day across the way. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Just sat there starin’ for a bit, I just couldn't help myself.”

"Well, maybe you'll run into her again sometime. And this time, you can introduce yourself like a normal person."

Joel nods, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he would run into you again. And this time, he could do things differently.

—

The next evening, Joel finds himself at the bar down the street, hoping against hope that he might see you again, somewhere, somehow. He sits at the bar, nursing a beer and scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

As he sits there, he can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Has he been here before? It was like a fog had settled over his memory, making it difficult to recall the details.

And then, just as he's about to give up hope, he sees you walking towards the bar, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then, as if by some miracle, they land on him.

You smile, a shy, tentative smile that makes Joel's heart race. Joel can't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over him as he sees you approaching him at the bar.

He's always been awkward around women, especially ones as beautiful as you. He tries to play it cool, taking a sip of his beer and glancing up at the TV, but his eyes keep flicking back to you.

"Hey there, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Joel feels a wave of nervousness wash over him, but he tries to hide it with a grin. "Oh, I'm just passin' through," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as awkward as he feels.

But you seem to be enjoying his discomfort, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'm glad you stopped by."

You lean against the bar, your body close to Joel's. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he finds himself struggling to focus on anything but you.

"So, cowboy, tell me what really brings you to this little dive bar?" You ask, your voice low and sultry.

Joel takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Just needed a break from the rodeo, I guess," he says, trying to play along.

You laugh, a loud, genuine laugh that makes Joel's heart skip a beat. "Well, I'm glad you found it. Maybe we can make each other's night a little more interesting."

Joel feels a thrill run through him at your words. He knows what you're suggesting, and he can't help but feel a surge of desire. "I'd like that darlin."

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against Joel's ear. "Follow me."

Joel follows you through the crowded bar, his heart racing with excitement. He can't believe what's happening, but he doesn't want it to stop.

You lead him to the bathroom, pushing open the door and pulling him inside. The room is small and dimly lit, but Joel can see the desire shining in your eyes.

You push him up against the wall, your body presses against his. Joel can feel your breath hot against his skin, and he finds himself struggling to breathe.

"I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."

Joel feels a surge of desire run through him. He's wanted you just as badly, and he can't believe this is finally happening. He reaches out, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together as you explore each other's mouths.

Joel's hands move down your body, sliding under your skirt and finding their way to your panties. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he knows you want him just as badly as he wants you.

He slides your panties down your legs, his fingers lingering for a moment before he lets them fall to the floor.

You break the kiss, your breath hot and heavy. "Take me."

Joel doesn't need to be told twicn.sbb

De. He helps you up onto the sink and your legs wrap around his waist as he slides inside of you.

You moan with pleasure, your head thrown back as Joel thrusts into you. The bathroom is small and cramped, but neither of you care. All that matters is the heat and the pleasure between you.

Joel can feel himself getting close, the pleasure building up inside of him. He knows he won't be able to hold back for much longer.

But just as he's about to reach his climax, you pull away, your body sliding down his.

"Not yet, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips.

Joel watches as you sink to your knees in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. He feels a surge rush through him as you reach for his hard cock, you wrap your hand around it, stroking him slowly. Joel lets out a low moan as he feels your hand on him, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin. He can feel your lips brushing against the tip of his cock, and he holds his breath in anticipation.

And then, finally, you take him into your mouth. Joel lets out another moan as he feels your lips around him, your tongue swirling around his cock. His thoughts are consumed with desire as he watches you pleasure him.

He reaches down, tangling his fingers in your hair as he begins to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with a roughness that takes you by surprise. You moan around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. He can't believe how good it feels and how much he wants you.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, and he knows he's about to come. He pulls out of your mouth, your saliva glistening on his cock.

Without a word, he pulls you up and turns you around, bending you over the sink. He can see your face in the mirror, your eyes wide with desire and anticipation.

He slides inside of you, your wetness coating his cock as he begins to thrust. He can feel you clenching around him, your body trembling. Joel reaches around, his fingers finding your clit. He begins to rub slow circles, hearing you moan with pleasure as he hits the right spot.

He knows he won't be able to hold back much longer, and with one final thrust, he spills his seed deep inside of you, filling you up as you moan with pleasure.

Joel watches in the mirror as you come with him, your face flushed with pleasure, and your eyes glazed over with desire. He can't believe what just happened, but he knows one thing for sure - he needs more of you.

He pulls out of you and helps you to your feet. You lean into him, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Wow," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel chuckles, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. "Yeah, wow," he says, pulling you close for a kiss.

He helps you straighten your clothes, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls away.

You reach down, picking up your panties from the floor. You hold them out to Joel, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"A souvenir," you wink.

Joel takes the panties, his heart racing with excitement.

You lean in, your fingers putting a pre-written note in his pocket, and your lips brush against his ear. "Call me, cowboy," you say, your voice low and sultry.

And then you're gone, leaving Joel alone in the bathroom with nothing but the memory of your body and the scent of your panties to remind him of what just happened. He can't believe what just happened, but he knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this alive before.

[weministertomonsters]

A Shift In Character- 3

"No hospitals," your husband croaks as you stumble out of your apartment elevator.

"You've said that several times already, Nathan," you gasp, struggling under his weight as he leans against you.

"No hospitals," he mumbles. "M'fine."

"No, you're not!" You shoot back as you fumble with the key to your apartment.

Your nosy neighbor sticks her head out of her door and gasps when she sees the state of the two of you.

"Bar fight," you mutter and push your door open.

You get Nathan on the couch and run to get the first aid kit so you can access the damage. You wrestle his shirt off and he lies there limply, staring at you with foggy eyes. He has a few bruises and scratches, but nothing serious. You sigh in relief when you realize the bite wound isn't too bad either. It just bled a lot.

"What if it gets infected?" You blow out a breath and get to work disinfecting the wound.

"I'll be fine," he winces. "Are you okay? What happened back there?"

You avoid his gaze. "You need to rest. You need to shower too, but lie down for a while, okay?"

He hums, his eyes fluttering shut. "Don't leave me," he murmurs.

You push his hair back from his forehead, going hot and cold. What the heck are you going to say, that you had terrifying but hot sex with a stranger? Your relationship wasn't open to other people, so what you've done is cheating.

So stupid. You see he's asleep, so you get up and stumble into the bathroom.

How had things gone so far? Well, Mystery Man used your weakness against you. But you should have also made more of an effort to say no. Shivering, you step into the shower and rinse dried cum and blood from your body. Every part of you feels thoroughly satisfied, despite your guilt. You're just beginning to soap your body when you feel a presence behind you. You almost slip as you turn, but your husband catches you with an arm around your waist.

He looks far more alert now. His clothes are discarded on the floor outside the shower. Pinkish water runs down his chest as the blood washes away. He blinks at you.

"You know what? I think you liked it."

"W-what?" You squeak.

"You heard me. You've been acting weird ever since I got back. Is it because of him?"

"Can we talk about this later?" You scratch your neck, and he catches your hand and leans in.

"He bit you as well?"

"Yes..."

Your husband says your name in that exasperated tone he uses when he thinks you've made a stupid decision, and even though you have no right to be angry, you feel the heat of it pulsing through you.

"Okay, yeah! I did enjoy it! It was more consensual than he made it look when you arrived. Are you happy now?"

He laughs sharply. "Are you admitting to cheating on me?"

Your anger dissipates and your shoulders hunch. Suddenly you're very aware that you're both naked. Your eyes sting, and not from the soap.

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "I just wanted to feel something. You've always been busy..."

Your husband looks at you. Really looks at you.

"Why are you covering yourself?" He asks, his voice getting a little softer.

You are. You're almost cowering with your arms crossed over your midsection like you want to curl up into a ball. You look at him and finally admit the truth.

"I feel like I'm not good enough. Like I'm not desirable to you any longer."

"That's not true," he says.

"Then why won't you sleep with me?" You sniffle. "It makes me feel so small and hateful and ugly. You always say you're busy with work, and then too tired after work..."

"God, I didn't realize. I've been so wrapped up." He takes both of your wrists and pulls them away from your body, pulling you into a hug. "We're going to fix this," he says firmly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even looked his way," you murmur. "I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me."

Your husband is silent for a long moment, and then his arms tighten around you.

"Tomorrow I'm going to find that guy and fuck him up," he growls. "For touching my wife."

"But I'm the one who let him touch me," you protest.

"He should have known better because you're mine," your husband replies. "You've got a damn ring on."

You grimace and feel like an even bigger fool.

"I'll deal with you too, don't think I'm letting it slide," he whispers against the top of your head and you simply nod.

You eventually part in order to get clean.

"Something isn't normal about him," you say as you soap yourself up.

"This would be the part where I laugh and don't believe you, but I saw his face when we were fighting," your husband says.

"You did?" You gesture for him to turn around so you can get his back.

"Humans don't have eyes or teeth like that."

"Fuck," you groan. "What if I've been infected?"

"You and me both," He replies, turning back to you. "Check my neck. Is it still bleeding?"

You lean closer. "No... It looks like it healed over."

You exchange looks. It's beginning to dawn on you that you've epically fucked up and dragged your husband into it. Your apologies are plentiful, but he doesn't want to hear them.

"I need time to think," he says as you both settle into bed. "I'm going to buy a gun tomorrow."

"Babe..."

"What? If he's really some freak, I'll need all the help I can get," he replies with a yawn. "I'm going to kill him, that's what."

You clamp your mouth shut, surprised at the protests that want to rise. You're not sure what part of this unsettles you. That your husband, who's always been a gentle person, wants to buy a gun and possibly kill someone. Or that Mystery Man might not be human, or that you don't want either of them to get hurt.

Your husband is out cold within minutes, but it takes you longer to fall asleep. You have nightmarish dreams of fighting and snapping wolf teeth and both men slippery with blood as they wrestle on a forest floor.

A heavy weight thumping against your body wakes you up. You forgot to close the blinds before you went to bed, and the bright morning light is pouring in, piercing your eyes. Your husband's arm is wrapped around you, one of his legs thrown over both of yours, holding you down. That's what woke you up. Sweat glistens on his forehead and he mumbles in his sleep.

"Nathan?" You nudge his shoulder.

One of his eyes slowly cracks open, and his pupil is huge.

"What's wrong?" You ask, leaning over him.

"Bad dreams," he rolls over with a groan, releasing you. "I feel like shit."

"Are you okay?"

"Why do you ask?" He opens both eyes now, squinting painfully at you.

He looks like he's high.

"You're soaked with sweat," you tell him.

The thin shirt he's wearing clings to his body. He frowns and sits up. The bedsheets are damp as well. Ywrinklenke your nose.

"Up, I'm changing the sheets."

He rolls off the bed and plops on the floor, rubbing his face and mumbling to himself. You get out of bed yourself and hiss sharply at the ache between your legs. His head jerks up and he twists around to look at you, narrowing his eyes. You could almost cry of embarrassment as you scamper out of the bedroom, wincing. Another man has you walking weird.

You get fresh sheets from the closet and hesitantly walk back in. He is still sitting on the floor, his head hung low. Silently you begin to tug the sheets off the bed. He hops up to his feet and pads up to you. Without much warning, he tugs the sheets out of your hands drops them on a nearby chair, and kisses you.

He's burning up, his feverish skin hot against yours as he pulls you closer. You try to push him away.

"You're sick, Nathan. Your temperature is sky high."

He ignores you. "I want you," he says.

"What? Now? You're joking. You need to lie down," you tell him. "And I'll get you a cold cloth-"

A muscle in his jaw tightens and he practically throws you on the bed. You squeak as you fall face down.

"Wasn't asking," he mumbles, crawling on top of you and kissing your shoulder.

"Nathan, I'm serious," you begin to say, but he straddles your hips, pinning you to the bed.

His hand scoops your hair away from your neck, his fingers tracing the slight, bumpy scar where you were bitten.

"Nathan? What are you doing?"

He doesn't respond, and that's pretty strange. He hauls you up onto your hands and knees roughly, repeating the motion twice until you obediently hold the position. You look over your shoulder and gasp. His brown eyes are so dark they're almost black. You've seen his eyes get chocolatey and warm in direct sunlight, but this charcoal color doesn't even look natural.

"I can smell him on you, you know," he finally says. "I hate it."

"I took a shower. Don't be ridiculous-" You freeze when he grabs your underwear and pulls it down, smacking your ass.

"Nathan? You're scaring me," you whisper.

His response is a low appreciative groan as he rubs the spot he just smacked. You look back again, only to see he's pulled his cock out of his sweatpants, his stomach flexing as he fists it.

"Are you sure? This is the last thing you should be doing." You argue weakly.

He drapes his body against yours and whispers in your ear,

"I love you so much, but I need you to stop talking."

"What? You're not making any sense!" You protest, and those are the last words you manage to speak as he shoves your face into the pillow.

You feel the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Despite yourself, you're pretty wet. He's never been like this before. He thrusts into you as far as he can go, and you moan in pain. You're still very sore from yesterday and he's not being gentle.

"You have to smell like me because you're mine. Don't you get it?" He pants as he thrusts into you. "You can't just give your pussy to anyone. You're mine!"

"Yes," you gasp. "I'm yours."

He grunts and squeezes your hips, digging his fingers in hard enough for it to hurt. You let him, figuring this might be his way of punishing you. He uses you like a toy, chasing his pleasure alone. It's been so long since you had sex together that you regret the fact that it's like this, but you're in no position to complain. He comes with a growled curse and flops bonelessly on the bed beside you, his chest heaving.

You let yourself flatten against the bed and blow out a breath. You're turned on and confused.

"I think something's wrong with me," he says. "I feel strange."

"Should I take you to the hospital?"

"No. Just.. Lie with me."

You have to clean yourself up and turn on the air conditioning before you climb back into bed with him. He pulls you closer and sniffs.

"Now you smell like me. That's much better. His scent was making me go crazy."

"Stop being weird," you demand, trying not to feel anxious. "You're having a fever or something. Sleep."

Miraculously, he does fall asleep.

You don't remember dozing off as well, but you wake up to the thud of the refrigerator closing. You're alone in the bed. You stretch and your body zings with soreness. Your breasts feel tender too. You check your calendar and it all lines up. You're going to be ovulating soon. You pad into the kitchen and pause.

It's a mess, the way it always gets when your husband does anything in the kitchen. Nathan turns from the stove with a stack of pancakes.

"Morning."

"Hi. Are you feeling better?"

"Sure am. Sit down, I made breakfast."

You sit cautiously and stare at him. He sets the pancakes down in front of you and sits himself. He's eating scrambled eggs and leftover minced meat that looks like he barely gave it time to get a decent sear.

"Uh..."

"This is all I was craving. Figured I deserve it," he says, scooping it into his mouth. "I've got to go out to the office, but I'll be home early. I thought we could go on a date."

You nod silently and eat the pancakes. Has he forgotten about the gun? You're not going to bring it up just in case. He showers and leaves for work with so much energy that you can't help but worry. He kisses you hard on the mouth and promises to be back as soon as he can. You let him go, nursing that feeling of unease deep inside of you.

You tidy up the kitchen and lock up. You get a sense of deja vu as you step back into the club.

"We're pretty much closed till seven in the evening," the bartender calls over.

He's washing and drying shot glasses. One person is sitting at the bar, devouring a hamburger. It's not your guy, even though he has a similar build.

"Sorry. I'm here to ask about someone," you say.

Before you can begin to describe him, the man eating the hamburger says,

"Green eyes, hasn't-shaved-in-days and slutty open shirts?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" You frown at the man.

He licks grease from his fingers and chortles.

"Helen of Troy, that's what you are."

"Pardon?"

He waves a dismissive hand and then holds it out to you. "Where are my manners? I'm Ulysses."

You don't take his hand. You glance at the bartender, who shrugs.

"Well, I really need to talk to him. Is there any way I can reach him?"

"A careful bitch. I like that," he says.

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to take the bait.

"Can I have his number, maybe?"

"Aha!" The bartender cuts in. "So you're the lady he was talking about! He left a note for you."

You whip your head around. The bartender fumbles in his pockets and then pulls a piece of tissue out. The ink has bled in places, making it hard to read, but you manage to make it out.

Contact me when you have real questions that need answers.

Underneath, there's a phone number. You thank the bartender and leave Ulysses at the bar as you stride outside. You waste no time dialing the number. It goes straight to voicemail, so you try again.

"I thought I told you not to call," his deep voice says.

"Well, I've got questions. What are you?"

You get a scoff in response.

"You're howling at the empty sky, darling. Wait for the real trouble."

"Don't speak in riddles," you protest. "Something is happening and I-"

The bastard hangs up on you. You stare at your phone screen in disbelief and curse.

"You're in a fix," Ulysses says, joining you on the curb.

You take a step away from him, frowning. He's dressed like a homeless person, or a junkie, or both. There's a sly shiftiness to him that you don't like.

"Please leave me alone."

"Ah, you want to be alone?" He crows. "Not for long! You've got yourself a piece of the wild, that's what. Bastard city people, always wiping your noses. Ha!"

You hail a taxi and leave him there. You have no idea what Ulysses has to do with Mystery Man, but the situation is only getting murkier and more confusing. Your phone rings. It's Nathan.

"I, um, fucked up."

"What happened?" You ask.

"Got into a fight and broke a tooth. There's, uh, blood everywhere." He sounds lost and confused.

"Jesus. Send me your location. I'll come and pick you up. Don't move, okay?"

"Yeah, um... I think I'm just going to sit down..."

The line disconnects.

Read the next part here -> Part 4

[zarazmnie-cos]

❝ [don't you know i want you so bad?] ¡! ❞

requested? yes, for 🦆 anon !

contains: park jihoon x fem!reader; enemies to lovers!au, fake relationship!au; smut, teeny bit of angst ig, some fluff; make out, fingering, teasing?? griding/dry humping, slight marking, begging if you squint???, unprotected piv (yall better wrap it up), nipple play, implied round two ig; lmk if i missed anything

words: approx. 2.8k

a/n: im not gonna even pretend i live atp but i hope you will enjoy this one. yes, it is rushed, not finished, but i still think it looks decent. lemme know ur thoughts on this one bcuz i love feedback <3 masterlist here

AS A NUMBER ONE PARK JIHOON HATER, YOU HAD NO IDEA WHAT OTHER PEOPLE SAW IN HIM THAT MADE THEM ADORE HIM. HE WAS HANDSOME INDEED, BUT BESIDES THAT, HIS ONE HELL OF EXISTENCE WAS ENOUGH TO BRING YOU TO MADNESS. JUST HIS PRESENCE MADE YOUR BLOOD BOIL.  

being neighbors with such someone who dared to call itself “human” was tough. seeing him a lot of times, happy and unbothered by the fact he ruined your dreams, definitely didn’t help in developing positive feelings towards that idiot. in fact, keeping those grudges inside as fuel for your hatred felt therapeutic. and it longed all the way from your childhood to adulthood.

you hoped for him to finally leave your life. it didn’t really matter in what way, you just wanted to never see him again. so why did you look out the window every time he was passing by?

saying these feelings were mutual would be a lie. but jihoon would never let you know that. 

“what do you want?” you asked, seeing him by your door again that day. “i don’t have any money. i wouldn’t lend you it anyway.”

“what do i want? to not suffer anymore, i guess. and to live a peaceful life with someone.”

“okay?” looking at him, confused, you reached out for the doorknob to close the door and end this meaningless conversation. 

“can i come in?”

“why?” now that was sus. jihoon’s tone got a bit more serious, even tired. he always seemed to be full of energy, confident, and untroubled. so what was going on?

“i need to talk to you. in private.”

still staring at him from under your furrowed brows, after a moment of hesitation, you let him inside. as he took off his shoes and went inside the living room, you decided to make some tea. from his tone, it seemed it will be a tough conversation.

and oh boi, was it one hell of a confusing ride. for you, at least.

“so, to conclude,” you started after a moment of silence. “you want me to act as your girlfriend? you know i hate you with all my heart, right? and the fact that i could murder you right here, right now is incredibly possible?”

“but you listened to me, so i don’t think it is that possible.” 

“get out.” shaking your head at his words, you got up from the couch, ready to mind your own business. 

“let me know when you’ll think it through,” jihoon said softly, looking at you with a smile. oh, you wanted to punch him so badly, but he left before you could even form your hand into a fist. dang, now it felt kind of lonely in here.

“damn you, park jihoon!” 

a few days have passed by and these were the calmest and the quietest days of your life. no one was bothering you, no one was bickering with you, and no one actually talked to you. at first, you enjoyed that silence. you managed to get some work done and sleep better. though with almost no time, it started to feel lonely. almost like you don’t matter that much to people. especially to that one person.

“if you really have no balls to admit you are as lonely as a stick, then fine.” 

you had no idea why you still had jihoon’s number on your phone. heck, you had no idea why you even got it in the first place, but now it was convenient. you had to battle yourself whether to call or say it in person. surprisingly, agreement to his plan came to your head without much hesitation, but you thought nothing of it. the fact that you could toy with him and maybe get a small revenge was motivating.

although you thought of it as a sort of revenge (and that you already got a plan for how to do it), at the same time it just felt wrong. you had no idea why, but using his feelings like that seemed to be brutal, even for you. 

jihoon came by the next day to talk through all the details of this plan, and boi, was it one heck of a plan.

“wait, hold on, i have to write it all down,” you interrupted him, trying to process all the information he bombed you with. as you got up from your seat to look for some kind of a notebook, his hand stopped you from doing so.

“don’t, or else it won’t feel natural. what if anyone finds these notes, huh?” the worries and desperation in his tone were crystal clear; this whole situation really must’ve been important as hell. and it was actually sus.

“fine, but don’t come for me when i mess something up.”

“i’m pretty sure you won’t.”

the urge to say “eh?” was too big, but in the end, you just ignored his words. you got back on the topic, and the explanations began again.

the most suspicious thing in all of it was that he chose you. every time you asked him why it must be you, he managed to change the topic, smoothly avoiding answering your questions. since he loved to rile you up and make your blood boil just for funsies, him getting so serious about a fake relationship with you especially just wasn’t adding up. too many loose ends in his reasoning, but all of them were covered flawlessly. apparently, all you had to do was just sit, look pretty (or at least alive), and play along.

what was even more surprising, was the way you didn’t even think about screwing the whole situation up. well, almost. at first, a few times the urge to say “it’s a prank” was too big to handle, but in the end, none of this happened. you really could pat yourself on the back for the way you kept yourself in place, which was tough around park jihoon himself.

the worst thing in that fake relationship was skinship and intimacy in general. yeah, you had a few boyfriends before, but dang it, around jihoon it felt so... weird. weird as in good, and that was why it felt weird. it was park jihoon, you were supposed to hate him, not leaning in for a kiss! what the fuck! 

still, what kept you sane through all this acting was the thought of flipping it all against him one day. someday. though with every next day, every next move of his, every next nice and gentle act from him, this first thought managed to fade away, getting replaced by some sort of yearning. yearning for this act to be real.

it all felt some sort of... illegal. illegal as in a way of betraying yourself. illegal as in a way of “you shouldn’t be doing this” and “that is not how you were raised” way. though everyone around seemed to be happy about this magnificent act, you weren’t so sure and so happy about it. but how not lean into this act when it felt so good? when it felt like you were finally yourself? and when it felt like you actually had someone by your side? when it didn’t feel so lonely?

“what’s going on, sweetheart?”

“don’t call me that when there’s no one around. no one is watching.” you snapped back almost immediately, as in a way of punishment for this cute nickname. getting back on track, you came back to chopping carrots. the dinner won’t make itself, and since this piece of rotten flesh is around, you had to busy your hands with something.

“but it rolls so nicely out of the tongue,” jihoon whined, pouting and finally moving around so you won’t see his painfully handsome face. “but fine, if you don’t want, i won’t.”

all you heard in your head was the windows xp error sound right now. wait a damn minute, did he actually respect your boundaries outside the act? what was happening to him?

noticing how you stopped every movement, even breathing, you came back to your body and continued with your life. taking a sharp breath, you chopped those carrots like your life depended on it. 

jihoon was silent. way too silent. why? because he was thinking as well. even thinking too much. should he tell you? should he ask? but what if you just laugh it off? or make fun of him? will he lose his face when he’ll do that?

“here. have this.”

dang it, he was thinking so long you managed to make a whole dinner already! wait, what? did you really want him to taste the dish? what was going on?

the food came into the equation here, so he didn’t think much of it, he just took the full spoon in his mouth. seeing how your face brightened up because of his approval made these butterflies in his stomach fly up high again. just what you were thinking, acting like that? you wanted him? to fall in love with you? like he hadn’t already did?

“stop looking at me like that or i’ll seriously think you fell for me.” 

“what if i already did?”

it was supposed to be a funny question. it was supposed to be a joke. but this damned park jihoon was serious, you could tell that without looking at him. you breathed in sharply again. that just couldn’t be real. 

“then that would be far from what i agreed on.” somehow, when you said that, you felt something aching in your chest. was it your heart? is that how a broken heart feels? but you didn’t have what to be heartbroken over, it was all just a mirage. 

the silence longed and longed for what felt like an eternity. finally, you heard the chair moving. you knew he was going to leave. everyone did, sooner or later. maybe you just weren’t made for-

“well, i don’t know if you know, but it is not like i can control my feelings.” jihoon started, standing right beside you, leaning by the kitchen counter. “whether you agreed on me falling for you or not, it just happened and i’m not gonna keep it inside anymore. i fucking fell for you, sweetheart. so much.”

“and you want me to believe it? you want me to believe that sweet talk after all that acting, after that mirage full of such words? how can i know it’s not a play?”

“because none of that was a play. or at least not for me.”

wait, what? hold on, what?

“so you’re saying this whole fake relationship was supposed to be real?” you asked after connecting those few dots in your mind.

“sort of. i just wanted you to finally stop fighting with me. and maybe see that i’m not that bad.”

oh, boi. that was a rollercoaster indeed. thankfully the dinner was already done because you couldn’t think about it and about what jihoon was saying. 

“i should go, right?” after what seemed to be a disappointed sigh, jihoon slowly moved towards the door. what was he thinking, saying all that? what was he thinking in the first place, when he came up with the fake relationship idea?

“don’t.”

you couldn’t bear the possibility he would leave you. you didn’t know if you just got used to his presence in your life or what, but it felt different, more likely to live with him around. you just simply couldn’t let him go.

there was a lot to talk indeed. and you two did while eating the dinner that slowly started getting cold. it was getting late and you still didn’t want him to leave.

“please, stay.” you said quietly, turning away from him since you were unable to look him in the face while admitting to feeling lonely. it was almost like admitting being defeated. and you hated getting defeated, especially by park jihoon, that little fuck.

“aww, my little baby wants me to stay with her? alright then.” he chuckled, but after he said that, he left a small peck on your head. 

it really felt nice having someone by your side, even if that someone was able to tease the living shit out of you so casually. 

“what’s that? my little sweetheart can’t wait a bit?”

“no. touch me already.” you actually demanded, breathless from the passionate kisses you two shared. jihoon chuckled again, much to your discontent. so you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. 

your lips met his again. seeing you so desperate for him made jihoon smile cheekily in between the kisses, but he finally touched you, just as you wanted. in the end, who was he to disobey his sweetheart? 

with one of his hands, jihoon pushed you even closer to him, and the little moan that escaped your mouth sent shivers down his spine. wandering with the same hand under your shirt, the other one held your thigh, squeezing it from time to time. 

with you on his lap, so desperate for his touch, jihoon just couldn’t help but smile. the sight of you slowly getting ruined by him really affected his mind and body.

“you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.” he stated so out of the blue, but you didn’t really think much of it. you just wanted to feel him.

“mm-hmm. now kiss me more.”

again, smiling cheekily, jihoon tasted your sweet lips. with his hands under your shirt, he managed to undo your bra, which he then took off both with your shirt. the cold air of the room caused you to shiver a bit, but then feeling the warm hands of your boyfriend made it all better. 

while his hands roamed around your body, yours moved from the collar of his shirt to his hair, pulling on the strands from time to time, causing some breathless moans from the man under you. acting almost instinctively, your hips slowly started moving, grinding on the still-clothed length of your boyfriend. 

“you seriously can’t wait anymore, right, sweetheart?” jihoon asked after a short laugh, and you only shook your head. he laughed again before kissing you, moving his hand to your front clothed only with slowly soaking panties. “you’re so wet already. are you so impatient for me?”

you nodded, wanting him to finally take proper care of you. seeing his confident smile caused you to move again, this time grinding on his fingers lightly touching your core through the cotton material. 

“please, jihoon-“ mumbling out, you tried to form the next part of the sentence, but you failed the moment he moved the panties to the side and slid one of his fingers inside you. as you moaned softly at the sensation, jihoon carefully observed every change happening on your face and body. 

then, the second finger managed to slide in and you had to bite on your lower lip to not make louder sounds. you threw your head back, happy with a bit full sensation. and when he started moving his fingers, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore and just had to moan softly. 

meanwhile, jihoon started trailing his lips from yours to your jawline, neck, and then to your collarbones. everywhere where he could, he just had to leave at least a small mark of his presence. of the fact that he was the one making you feel so good. 

“m-more, please-“ quietly mumbling out, you brushed your fingers through jihoon’s hair, pulling on it again. looking at you with lust-filled eyes, he stopped kissing your neck, but only for a while. 

“you think you can handle more, sweetheart?” 

“mm-hmm.”

with a fast yet burning with lust kiss, jihoon finally lowered his pants, showing what you craved; his dick. you had to refrain yourself with the last bits of self-control from licking your lips at the sight. 

“you ready?” after a nod from you, jihoon smiled again, letting you do the rest of the job. as you adjusted yourself and slowly lowered your body, the feeling of being full took all over your body.

with moans and groans, you started moving up and down, and lusty sounds of slapping skin against skin filled the room. your boyfriend again started kissing your shoulder and collarbones, occasionally leaving here and there marks. his favourite spot to nibble on was the one place that made you moan louder and clench around his length. with one hand helping you bounce up and down, the other one massaging your tits, taking your nipple in between his fingers. 

you two might’ve been close to your highs, but none of you wanted to stop there. thankfully, the neighbours went on vacation, so no one would eventually complain about the two of you. 

[rishiguro]

21; COMFORT

“i hate this,” iwaizumi heaved, falling onto his back again, “i hate this so much”

he closed his eyes, taking a couple deep breaths before turning his face to you. “guess that pre-chemo medicine didn’t work,” you could tell he was trying to joke and lighten the atmosphere somehow.

you couldn’t really blame him, not after you had just seen him puke his guts out again.

you cracked a short smile to show him that you appreciated his efforts. “seems so,” you answered.

“hold on,” you muttered afterwards, reaching for the box of tissues next to you, taking a couple of them out and handing them over to him. “here, take this”

“thanks” he accepted the tissues without any protest, wiping them over his mouth before tossing them into the bin at his side. “gross,” he whispered to himself, scrunching his nose in disgust.

you softly stroked over his arm, trying to comfort him. “it’s alright,” you said, reaching into your bag as you told him to sit up. you pulled out a bottle, unscrewing it before you held it in front of - the by now sitting - iwaizumi. “drink something,” you urged.

he gave you a weak smile as he reached for the plastic bottle in your hand, bringing it to his lips and taking a couple sips.

after you put the water back into your bag, you turned to iwaizumi again. he looked out of the window, lost in thought. “do you want a snack? i got some fruit, nuts or gummies, if you’d like,” you offered. “they’re not very harsh in your stomach”

however, the young man only shook

his head. “can we just lie down again?” he asked, eyes darting between you and the pillow, “i don’t want to do anything else really”

“of course” you didn’t hesitate, immediately lying down beside him. iwaizumi raised his torso a little, putting his head on your body.

“you comfortable?” you asked him, a sheepish grin on your face, to which he hummed in agreement. “good”

the two of you rested there without speaking a single word. occasionally iwaizumi’s breathing got deeper with his fists clenching for some time before he relaxed. you didn’t comment, yet still mentally preparing yourself to jump up and get him whatever he needed.

your fingers danced over iwaizumi’s bare arms, drawing over the black lines on his skin.

“i don’t think i ever told you that i love your tattoos” you thought out loud, eyes scanning his arm, “or did i?”

“don’t think so”

“well, they’re amazing,” you stated, eyes still fixed on the ink embedded in his skin with your fingers tapping on it. “they make you look all dark and mysterious,” you teased.

you could practically hear him grin as he raised his head, trying to see your face. “and that’s your type, huh?”

you shrugged. “well, i am here with you,” you said. you paused for a moment after, eyes darting to see a confident smile etched on iwaizumi’s lips. “but turns out you’re not so dark after all”

suddenly he raised his eyebrows and looked at you questioningly, almost offended, but waited for you to continue. “you’re a softie,” you finished with your lips stretched into a wide grin.

“don’t look at me like that, you are”

he rolled his eyes, sinking back down and resting his head in your body again. “please,” he huffed, “softie”

“admit it,” you demanded with a playful voice.

he smacked his dry lips. “no”

“do it”

instead of replying, iwaizumi only yawned, shaking his head slightly.

“come on,” you continued, tapping your fingers on his inked skin. “you do know that i’ll keep annoying you, right?”

“over my dead body,” he shot back instantly with a serious voice.

the seriousness didn’t last long however, just after a short moment the two of you started laughing together.

soon you laid there in silence again, both lost in thought, when iwaizumi grabbed your hand, diverting your attention to him once more.

“thank you for being here with me,” he whispered, almost like he was afraid of what he was saying. he didn’t look at you, instead his eyes laid on your hand as he played with your fingers. “i hope you understand that this means a heck of a lot to me”

“hajime—“

he shook his head, cutting you off effectively. “i really don’t have the energy to argue with you right now,” the young man stated, finally turning his head to look at you. “do you really want to fight over this”

you sighed. “you’re insufferable”

“i can’t lose my spark now, can i?”

evanescent

/ɛvəˈnɛs(ə)nt,iːvəˈnɛs(ə)nt/ — “soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.”

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taglist: @ninjamomo @not-another-ackerman @midnight-drives-with-sunarin @bloombb @jewlmin @tia827 @namyari @fuckyouwhotookmyname @yuminako

[stinkybuttwipes]

Lie. Part 1

Context: You and piccolo have known eachother since the World martial arts tournaments when he was still evil. You guys had grown to feel and love for eachother when he was first training Gohan and got together after the fall of Namek. you guys have now been married for 2 years and fight together, Always..But piccolo has kept a secret from you.

Piccolo x Gn! Saiyan!Reader

Warnings: small Angst to fluff. Reader gets mad at piccolo, comfort, sweet. Post Super Hero

It’s been a few months since Piccolo came back roughed up from what he claimed was “training” but of course you know that’s not true.

3 months earlier

“Piccolo!? What the hell happened to you? Your gi is ripped and you have wound’s everywhere!” Piccolo looks down and back at you “training with gohan” Damn it, that same excuse to get him out of trouble with you “Again? But I thought he was stuck up in his work?” Piccolo silently walked passed you with his antennas drooped. He walked to the bedroom to change from his ripped clothes “Gee kinda rude” you help him and tend to his wounds before forgetting all this happened..Until now.

Present day

*it’s been 3 months since Piccolo came home beaten up and you haven’t questioned what happened since*

You find yourself babysitting Pan again while Piccolo is out meditating per usual so your stuck watching cartoons with Pan in Your shared House.

(The same house Piccolo has but much bigger inside and outside.)

You stare at the TV in front of you as Pan lays in your lap asleep. Eventually your phone rings and you try not to wake Pan as you reach for your phone, it’s from Gohan.

————————————————————————

Gohan: Hey (name) I’m on my way to grab Pan, sorry we always have her on your backs all the time 😅

You: No worries Han it doesn’t bother me, you have work besides its not the first time I’ve babysat a kid before.

Gohan: Lol, Thanks, I’ll be there in 10!

You: I’ll have her ready by then. See you.

————————————————————————

You wake up Pan from her slumber and get her ready to go. Gohan arrives on time and knocks at the door.

You open the door and see Gohan’s smiling face as usual. Pan runs to him hugging his legs. “Thank you for taking care of her again, like I said I’m sorry for being a burden all the time, I’ll buy you a the plushies you like since piccolo ‘hates’ them now.” He reaches to hold Pan “Don’t worry about it Kiddo, and I’m sure Piccolo is just embarrassed to admit he really likes the stuffies you guys get us.” Gohan chuckles at your words “You know him he’ll never confess something embarrassing to him that’s how he’s always been.” You reply “He’s a stubborn one alright.” Gohan thanks you again before looking around him like he’s looking for something lost.

“Something the matter Gohan?” You ask him “Oh! Yeah I just was wondering where piccolo was at. Usually he’s with you or Atleast with Pan.” You think to yourself “You know your right I haven’t seen him at all today actually, I’ll go looks for him later.”

And you did just that, You look around your surroundings as you soar in the sky looking for Piccolo. “Damn it where the hell is he!?” You start to panic worried something might have happened to your husband.

Until you see a orange light flash in front of you. “Agh! What the heck was that!?” You observe around you but see nothing. “Weird?” You tell yourself until you look beneath you.

“Piccolo?” You think. But it couldn’t be you’ve never seen him orange before none the less red eyes and a power lever stronger than yours. You land safely and find a place to hide. Behind a tree you stare at the namekian in front of you who is shooting off beams and new attacks you’ve never seen before.

Did he just now learn this? Did he just now grasp a new power up? You keep yourself hidden and try to put the pieces together.

Eventually You decide to make yourself known to him and come out behind the tree your hiding in. “Honey?” Piccolo flinches at your words “N-Name?!” You look at him confused “How long have you been there for?” He asks “long enough” you walk closer to him so that you look up since he towers over you.

“What’s with the new look? You seem pretty familiar with it.” You grew suspicious seeing how calm piccolo is considering this is the first time you’ve seen this form of his.

“I..um..” usually he never stutters but this time he looks nervous, “Piccolo?, How long have you been hiding this from me?.” You calmly but obviously furious at him. He doesn’t answer and avoids your eye contact.

You grab his chin to make him look at you “I asked how long you’ve had this for.” He looks at you with a form of anger “3 months.” You let go of him “3 MONTHS?!” You scream at him “You’re telling me you’ve had this for 3 fucking months Piccolo and never told me about it? Nonetheless told me how you even got your new form!” He turns back to normal and looks at you annoyed “I kept it from you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry about what!?, what more is there!?.” He sighs “I’ve been keeping something from you, I fought against Cell max, a creation of Dr.Hedos and Magenta, And Pan and gohan were involved in the fight.” You stare at him in shock. “We all agreed to keep this from you because I know you would go after Dr.Hedo or Gamma 1 if you found out about it, so I’ve been hiding it from you.” Piccolo holds your hand in his but you snap away and scream in anger “Damn it! You promised not to lie to me! You never should feel like you should ever lie to me!” He yelled back at you “You don’t understand! Your a saiyan who’s always looking for fights and your way to obsessed with me to understand anything, all you ever care about is fighting and me you don’t care about anything or anyone else!.your just like Vegeta..”

Piccolo Huffs at you and turns away. Your left in tears as he flys away from you.

He left you, alone, speechless.

You feel hot tears run down your face “he thinks of me that way?..” you try to soak up the “truth” he spilled.

You made a decision to not return to your shared home tonight and stay with your sister in law Bulma. You assumed that Piccolo didn’t want you with him after that and that he wouldn’t care.

____________________________________________

You quickly pack your things and leave a letter on the table before Piccolo returns, and then you take your leave.

You arrive at Capsule Corp the home of your brother, his wife, and his kids. You slowly knock on the entrance door and wait.

You start to think no one is there so you start walking away until your hear a rattle.

The door opens to an associate greeting you, “Hello Mrs.Name what brings you here today?” She lets you in and you thank her.

“I’m here to see Vegeta or Bulma please”.

[forever1kay]

I’ll Buy You A Pony

Pairing(s): Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Black!Reader, Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Afro Latina!OC (familial)

Notes: So I recently found out that our beloved Miggy has Equinophobia, or in other words has a fear of horses. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write about it! Besides that, I wrote this while I was half sleep and I didn’t feel like proof reading so please keep that in mind. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Fear of horses, a few annoying friends, Miguel pees on himself in front of all of you, biting (from the horse), children, sabotage, two grown yet childish idiots, passing out, profanity. Let me know if I forgot anything!

From the moment Janina was old enough enjoy anything, she’d loved horses. Her favorite show was my little pony, her first word was pony, and her favorite bathing suits have all had some form of a horse on them. She was obsessed.

When she’d asked for a Pony for her sixth birthday, you knew it was a no go due to her father’s equinophobia . What you didn’t know is that when you declined her request, she’d asked your parents the exact same question.

The two of them love their grand babies with all their heart. With the amount of money they have, they buy them everything they want within reason.

On a normal day, they’d never think a horse was a reasonable gift. But for a birthday? Heck yeah!

“NiNi, we have a gift for you, love.” Your mother spoke, pulling Nina into her lap.

“Really, Nana?” Nina asked, a small smile adorning her tanned face, “What is it?”

And when your dad walks into your large backyard, pulling a small horse next to him, all hell breaks loose.

Nina’s eyes light up and she leaps from your mothers lap, running her way over to her grandpa and the horse. “Wow, a real life horse! Mommy, daddy, come look!”

Miguel looks at you and frowns a little. You give him a look before turning back to your daughter and her newfound best friend.

“Daddy’s legs hurt a little right now, baby. I’ll come meet your pony.” You tell her.

You pat Miguel on the shoulder before walking over to your daughter and the pony.

“What are you gonna name her, baby?” You ask.

Janina huffs. “She’s a boy, mommy! You should never assume!”

You laugh at her slip up before apologizing.

“I’m sorry, baby. What’s his name?”

“Mommy Jr.”

“Mommy Jr?”

“Yeah!”

“But what about Sparkle? Or Stud? Maybe even Flashlight?”

“Well Uncle Johnny said I should name him Mommy Jr!”

You whip your head around to face both of her Uncles that go by that name.

There was Jonathan, your brother, and Johansen, Miguel’s friend from who knows where. Both of them shared a similar personality and were always getting your daughter into trouble.

“Which one of y’all idiots told my baby to name this horse after me?”

Both of them looked at each other and then back at you before bursting into laughter.

“You can’t lie, n/n. He kind of looks like you!” Johansen admitted.

“Yeah,” your brother joined in, “Y’all both got that grown man look going on for you.”

You continue to argue with the two, not noticing your father and Janina walking over to your husband. They pull him out of his seat to the side of you furthest from the horse.

“Aww, Miggy.” You look at him, quickly cleansing your mouth of all the curses you had aimed at Jonathan and Johansen. “It’s okay, we won’t let the horse eat you. Come here.”

Miguel allows you to drag him in the middle but he still squeezes himself tightly against you.

“How can I ever be a man if my six year old daughter finds out I’m afraid of horses?” Miguel whispers in your ear.

You turn to face him. “It’s a phobia, baby. Everyone is afraid of something.”

“Who do you know that’s afraid of horses?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

You don’t answer, only prompting to shush him and get him to loosen up.

“Time for a picture!” Your mom speaks. Your dad hands Nina to Miguel and he puts on the most realistic smile he could manage.

Your mother peaks at you all from behind the the camera and smiles. “On three, say Mommy Jr!”

She begins to count up from one, but right before she says three, Miguel squeals and tries his hardest to jump onto you.

“Cielo, cielo!” He yells, gripping you tightly.

You look at him worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“He bit my pants!”

You look behind Miguel at the miniature horse who obviously can’t take a hint and nudges your husbands leg once again.

Miguel gulps loudly and looks down at the horse who—unfortunately for him—was staring right back at him.

Miguel shrieks and runs to the other side of you, away from the horse. The horse seemed to be in a playful mood and decided to follow Miguel wherever he went.

Eventually, your daughter grew tired of the run around and jumped from her father’s arms, running over to sit with her uncles. Your party guests watch in amusement and you try to block the horse from your husband.

To your surprise, the horse got around you and approached your husband. He passed out, and both Johnnys stood to their feet, looking over the table at your husband.

“Damn! That nigga scared of horses!”

A few hours later, Miguel blinks his eyes open, squirming uncomfortably as he adjusts to his surroundings.

“Babe!” You squeal, running over to the hospital bed. “You’re okay!”

Miguel side eyes you. “I recall being in the presence of a horse?”

“Um…” you rub the back of your neck. “Yeah.”

“Why was the horse chasing me?” He asks.

“Dumb and dumber put some apple slices in your pocket.”

Miguel frowns.

“If it makes you feel any better, I cut Jonathan’s wicks and put nair in Johansen’s shampoo. You know how crazy they are about their hair.”

Miguel chuckles a little and scoots over to the right, patting the spot next to him. You squeeze in there with him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Besides that,” you start, “you had a panic attack and it was pretty severe, I guess. They said you’ll be free to go today, but they also had a few extra notes for you. You’re better off hearing it from a doctor.” You start to sit up. “I can go get one if-“

“No!” He protests, grabbing your arm and pulling you back into him. “Stay with me for a little.”

“Okay then.”

“Did I worry anyone?”

“Nah, everyone was too busy laughing.”

“I passed out and people were laughing?”

“You kind of…” you take a deep breath and prepare to answer him, but a doctor walks in to check on him and notices he’s awake.

You promise to tell him later.

Bonus:

Ever since the doctor interrupted your earlier conversation with Miguel, his curiosity had been eating away at him. What happened to him? Why was everyone laughing?

He walks to the bathroom door and knocks on it.

“Baby?” He speaks loudly through the door.

“Yes?” You yell over the stream of water coming from the shower head.

“What happened to me when I passed out?” He asks nervously.

“We will discuss this when I get out.” You respond.

Miguel huffs before stomping his way to Nina’s room where she lay on the floor playing with her Shopkins.

“Nina?” He asks, taking a seat next to her.

She looks up at him. “Yes, daddy?”

“What happened when I passed out?” He asks, picking up one of her dolls.

“Oh, you peed.” She says casually.

His eyes widen. “I peed?”

“Yeah!”

Miguel gulps. “W-was it noticeable?”

Nina raises an eyebrow, confused by the big word her father had used. “What?”

He rephrases his question. “Could people tell that I peed?”

“Oh, yeah!” Nina giggles. “It was really bad. Mommy had to throw away your pants and uncle Johnny took a picture of you.”

Miguel chuckles, thinking his daughter was joking, but she only blinked at him.

“Why are you laughing daddy? I’d want to run away if I were you.”

A lightbulb goes off in Miguel’s head at his daughter’s words. He kisses her head before running back to you in the bathroom.

“We are moving to Mexico.”

“Boy, get out my bathroom!”

© forever1kay 2023 - please don’t translate, convert, copy, paraphrase, repost, or alter any of my works without my permission.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Fic request!!!

Caleb bothering Philip because he see him with the Blight girl and his Duty of older brother is bothering him!

(For context, the "Blight girl" that anon is referring to is the Blight ancestor / descendant that Philip is dating in an au. Headcanons about her are here and art for @dannystarsstuff's Blight ancestor / descendant Amelie is here.

Anyways, enjoy! <3

💐 Flowers and Chocolates 💝

Caleb was strolling through the Bonesborough marketplace with a shopping list in his hand.

Evelyn had sent him out to get the ingredients needed to make her "world-famous" Bone Apple Tea, which consisted of dragon bones, blood apples, and tea leaves.

During his pursuit for the three items, the blonde spots his little brother from across the market on his own wearing his brown wooden mask as he makes his way towards a flower shop.

Before entering, the brunette stopped and checked his surroundings to ensure he wasn't being observed or followed.

He failed to notice Caleb on the other side.

It was quite apparent that Philip didn't want anyone to recognize him, but Caleb could tell it was him from a mile away based on his hair and clothing.

The mask was also a dead giveaway as he had carved it for him when he was a young boy.

A mischievous smile starts to sprout.

Caleb knew exactly why Philip was buying flowers and decided to spy on him from where he was standing.

After leaving the flower shop with a bouquet of abomination flowers, Philip enters a chocolate shop that was just so conveniently located next to it.

Minutes later, he comes out with a heart-shaped box of chocolates that was beautifully wrapped for his beloved.

"Let me guess, those are for her, aren't they?"

The teasing voice made Philip squeal as he turned to see his older brother standing behind him with a big dumb grin on his face.

He positioned his mask on the side of his face, revealing his terrified expression.

"Caleb?!" He squeaked, quickly hiding the flowers and chocolate behind his back, but it was too late.

His brother had already seen them and was going to tease him mercilessly.

"She's going to love them, Philip," he cooed.

"W-Who?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, little brother. We both know who I'm talking about. The Blight girl. I've been keeping a close eye on you two, you know."

Blue eyes begin widen as Philip's face turns seven shades of red. "Y-You've been stalking us?!"

Caleb proceeds to point a finger at him. "Ha, so you do admit to knowing her!"

Choking down his panic, Philip shot a glare at Caleb, bringing the flowers and chocolates back into view.

"Also, me? A stalker? Never. I was just following you both around one day without either of you knowing." The blonde beams him a smile.

Philip shares his annoyance with a frown. "I hate you."

"Oh stop, you do not." Caleb's voice went singsongy. "Philip likes witches, Philip likes witches, Philip likes witches, he's got a witchy girlfriend~!"

"Shut up, I do not! I still think witches are the scum of the earth, she's just..." Philip had to pause, looking away in thought.

"Trying to come up with a good lie or excuse~?" chuckled the elder.

Philip huffed, red returning to his face as he brought his gaze back to Caleb.

"Listen, she's just different, okay? Unlike the others who are all savages, she's actually quite sophisticated."

Caleb crossed his arms, continuing to smirk. He hums. "Uh-huh. I said something similar when I started dating Evelyn."

Philip rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Just please go away." He starts to walk off, only to hear footsteps behind him.

"HEY EVERYONE, DID YOU HEAR THE BIG NEWS? PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND!" Caleb loudly announces, gaining the attention of some who stare at the two as they chatter amongst each other.

"Wow!"

"Did you hear that?"

"Philip's got a witch girlfriend."

"Who the heck's Philip?"

Embarrassed, Philip proceeds to walk faster, sending his brother a death glare. "Shut up!" He growled.

"PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND, PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND, PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND~!" He proudly sang, quickening his pace.

The brunette then begins to run with the blonde now chasing behind him. "I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP! AND STOP FOLLOWING ME!"

"Never! The whole Isles has to hear about this blooming romance of yours! HEY, PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND!"

"Alright, Philip!" A random male passerby cheers.

"CALEB, STOP IT! YOU'RE BEING INCREDIBLY STUPID AND CHILDISH RIGHT NOW!"

"I know you are, but what am I~?"

"UGH!"

[breezy-cheezy]

Who are Rook and Trey (if you don’t mind my asking)? (Love your art btw)

*Takes a DEEP breath* How much time you got- /half joking

Aight so. Rook Hunt and Trey Clover are two characters from a phone game I've been into recently, Twisted Wonderland. Yes. The. The Disney one. Written and Drawn by Yana Toboso (the artist/writer behind Black Butler. No I'm not kidding.) HEAR ME OUT kjhsdjkgdf

It's one of those gacha/visual novel-like games that gets marketed as like a dating sim, but has some of the most. Un-romantic settings/characters I've EVER seen. As an aro/ace, I applaud this lmao. Also amazing character and story writing like what the heck.

Very....boys will be boys energy but not the mean way, more of a “y’all are so stupid and ridiculous” in a fond way??

Actual answer under read more because I'm insane:

So every character is like. They aren't the Disney characters themselves but more like BASED on them? Sometimes several. I'm making a powerpoint on this to connect all the dots, here's Trey's lmao

Heartslabyul house! Based on: Mad Hatter, 3 of Clubs, King of Hearts, etc. Generally chill. You think he's the normal one, then he turns around and gives you an hour lecture on how to brush your teeth properly. Ok mom.

He also reminds me along of Ignis from Final Fantasy 15. He's. That type. But also not?? Still instant attachment that way LOL

Thing is he's VERY devoted to his childhood friend/Dorm leader, Riddle. But he will never admit this, not even to himself. (due to Trauma and also being totally completely normal. Uh-huh.)

SO IN WE BRING....ROOK HUNT (who is already on that slide HAHA)

Different house (it's a school setting, like Hogwarts but more Themed Houses based around. Different Disney villains) and SO. How do you explain Rook. Well he's based off the Huntsman from Snow White, mainly.

Gives these vibes. Incoming. Smiley. Will give affection. Somewhat of a threat.

Theater kid set loose. French. Loves beauty in all its forms. Drama, sparkles, has SO much love (platonic, I must preface, every time I use that, I mean in an unromantic manner) to give and is VERY vocal about it. Compliments you constantly and finds uplifting things to say even when you did horribly on something. You fell on your face? He will tell you you fell with magnificence or something idk he's just LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME, he means EVERY WORD TOO-

This dude will not lie. His eyes are too good, he is too perceptive. Oh also he hunts some students for sport, there's that little detail (HE NEVER HURTS ANYONE as far as I know he just. Watches. Love this lil weirdo. Some of his lines are "let's play tag!" and I'm like oh NO LMAO) so like I laugh at him but he's also MILDLY TERRIFYING AND CAPABLE LIKE DUDE-

Anyway, TREY you meet early since he's in the first house you deal with, Heartslabyul. But my first exposure to ROOK was through Trey's Lab Card story, which is honestly a fun time on its own. They are science club buddies!!

So right off the bat you have a very :D :D vs calm =w=;;; dynamic, which I love. But then we have....Trey, who denies how much he cares for people, for Riddle. Who shows care through his actions, baking, Due to Reasons, words of affirmation might murder him on the spot. And then we have Rook, who is a font of flowery warm appreciative words who loves and loves loudly, watching this like 👀 I see you. (incoming shots of Halloween Event part 2)

The guy calls him Chevalier des Roses to his face. Constantly. Rook has little nicknames for alot of people (most dorm leaders he calls "King of Roses" (Riddle), "King of Lions" (Leona) etc.) but he calls Trey a Knight. Of Roses. He's calling Trey Riddle's Knight. And it's very cute.

(Halloween event tossed them together and it was WONDERFUL)

But yeah Trey has his own reasons for shying away from the title. He's a baker's boy, he has no sword or armor or anything, also it's embarrassing as heck-

But Rook still sees how he treats people. He calls a knight for what it is. Rook himself ADORES his dorm Leader, Vil, and sees Trey trying to hide this same devotion and just goes "you are like me!!!" Trey: oh please no I could never-

Also they're SUCH. PARENTS.

It's just. A really good dynamic I'd LOVE to see more of, y'know? An understanding, somehow being understood by someone more than you know yourself. Rook is also weird as HECK sometimes (what do you mean you can see how Leona is yawning ALL THE WAY ACCROSS THE FEILD) and Trey nearby is. His friend. He's just like "I'm so sorry he's just like this" and it's VERY funny akjshdjksdhfs he may have to hold Rook back from blowing up the labs again, dude gets carried away.

I do love this very CUTE fan art here.

Twisted Wonderland has some lovely character dynamics. Also no one is "normal", but Rook is just another level of w h a t.

It feels like alot of interactions were just "hm spin a wheel, see who we get, slap them together" and it WORKS. SOMEHOW. Platonic Rook Trey is just one I've become extremely fond of and it's a rarer one....

You probably weren't expecting that much but it was a fun thing to answer. And THANK YOU About the art!! I wish to post more!! After school ends....soon.

[foxwitchaine]

How would you rank the seasons of Miraculous Ladybug?

Buckle up, everyone. Let's do this:

Season 1 - 8/10

I won't lie. The show actually started out pretty good in Season 1. We had unique ideas, a fresh take on the typical love interests you see in these shows, and a whole range of diverse and interesting characters who got their own spotlight episodes. It was where the show shined the best with what it had, so to speak. It did fumble toward the end with Lila's rather messy entrance. But again, I can't blame Ladybug for blowing up like she did.

Could she have handled it better? Of course. Heck, this could have been a plot line where Ladybug has to address the issue of lying through someone who doesn't have any problem lying through her teeth.

Unfortunately, that's not what we got.

Season 2 - 7.5/10

One less half-point for underdelivering on their promises. In our defense, we had no idea what we were in for past Season 2. We got new characters like Luka, who gave characters like Juleka more beyond their archetype. The reveal that Gabriel was Hawk Moth was something we all saw coming, but it set up an amazing conflict for later down the road.

It was also the season where the earliest red flags were being flown.

To be fair, since the show was still, in a sense, "starting out", we gave it the benefit of the doubt. The biggest contention was, naturally, how they handled Chloé Bourgeois.

Put simply, Chloé had potential for an incredible Zuko-style redemption story. Between her mother Audrey abandoning her to pursue her career, along with virtually every adult figure in her life failing her, we could have had an amazing drama where the school bully was forced to confront her worst self and aim to become better. To deserve the Bee Miraculous.

What we got instead was the showrunners sabotaging themselves with how they handled her.

Season 3 - 5/10

The season where it all started to go downhill, starting with the infamous opening episode Chameleon.

There's... no polite way to put it. Season 3 of the show was where the entire foundation, whatever little there was, started falling apart. Marinette suffered so much for so little in this season, it wasn't funny. Add onto other infamous episodes like Ladybug, Chat Blanc, Puppeteer 2, Reflekdoll, and Miracle Queen, it's become crystal clear the show is nothing more than a vanity project for the creator. And that was before we got the news they were underpaying their staff (take this with a grain of salt, it's been a while since I read that article).

It was also the season where we started to see the faults in the writing show. From Adrien/Chat Noir refusing to see anything past his nose to the frankly rather illegal handling of Marinette's expulsion to the Lila-centric episodes requiring brain-bending leaps of nonexistent logic. Aside from some rare cool moments (Nathalie fighting three akumas, anyone?), this season was more painful to watch.

Especially with that season finale where Marinette lost Fu.

Seasons 4 & 5 - 2/10

I'm just gonna say it. I stopped watching anything from Miraculous Ladybug when I heard they were gonna akumatize Master Fu in Season 4. So my rating here is based mostly on hearsay from what happened in these two seasons lumped together.

Yes. These seasons pissed me off so much I just lumped them together and called it a day. The writing here is just painful to hear about. Who proofreads the scripts before sending it to the animation team? We have these things called quality checks for a reason.

Ranting aside, we've got more infamous episodes like Gang of Secrets and Derision. I've stated before that I will forever hate that first mentioned episode for how entitled everyone was towards Marinette's secrets. And Derision has to be one of the biggest cases of character assassination by the writing team I've ever seen. Kim isn't one of my favorites, I will admit. But even he didn't deserve the frankly awful backstory ruining what was once a fun (if something of a feather-brained bully) jock character.

Back on the topic of the first mentioned episode, Gang of Secrets was also the point of no return for me regarding Alya's character. Which is a huge shame since Marinette is in dire need of an actual support system instead of shouldering everything on her own. Anyone with half a brain after that would have figured out on their own the lying liar who lies was a lying liar who lies, pardon the repetition. Everything she did afterwards, such as her stint as Rena Furtive, just killed any chances of her undergoing redemption.

Phew, that ended up being more longwinded than I intended. Hope that answers your question.

[his-red-right-hand]

his red right hand, Chapter Eight

Notes taken from a legal pad:

Went in to her place at lunch. Didn’t even need to use the spare key, she left the backdoor unlocked. Got the panties she was wearing when I stabbed her. A nice souvenir for me. Fucked with her records again, put some of my favourites up at the top. Rifled through her drawers a little bit, although most of her clothes seem to live on the floor. That’s just a fucking tripping hazard, gonna have to remember that for future.

Managed to get a couple of pictures of her working from across the street, Philly has enough zoom on her base lens to get some nice ones of her bored on the phone. She’s real cute with that lil vest of hers on. Looking forward to finishing this day at the office and catching up with my girl this evening.

---

I think she’s asleep on the couch.

I know she’s not dead because she’s shifted a bit, but I’ve been here for hours and she’s not doing anything. No music on, no tv playing, no lights on.

Oh babe, you’re running the risk of boring me. Where’s all those self destructive urges?

Fuck it. I’m gonna call her.

---

Oh, she is waaaaaay more fucked up than I thought she was.

Got a very nice polaroid of her panties covered in my cum, because she’s pretty when she knows I’m watching her. Extra pretty when she shows me the stitches I gave her. Looking forward to digging my fingers into the flesh there. Will she cry because it hurts, or because she likes it?

The fact that she was stoned as hell the entire time though put a definite damper on the whole evening for me though. How am I meant to fuck with her head when it’s already fucked with?

I just told her to go to bed, and she did. Such a good girl for me. Put a light on for me, which is cute. Took one of her sleeping pills as well, so I just headed in after waiting a little bit. Not like she’s made it hard for me, she left the back door wide open. Heck, if anything having me around is gonna keep her safer.

Not that she probably cares about that, little miss self destruct.

Gotta admit, it was real hard not to just curl up in the bed behind her, rub one out against her thighs. Stuck with taking a few pictures of her sleeping, her lips were all pouty which was extra cute, can’t wait to see them stretched around my cock. Smelled her hair a bit. You know, romantic shit. Drugs had her deep enough that I probably could’ve fucked her right there without her stirring, but I want her awake the first time I take her.

Turned the light off for her, so when she wakes up she’ll know I came in to see her. Left the polaroid of her panties on the coffee table. It’ll be a shame to not have it any more, but at least I have the panties to commemorate it. And she does deserve a token of my appreciation.

---

Watched her for a bit during my lunch break today. Then I headed in to see her. Well, Jed did. Wasn’t planning to, not so soon. But she’s like an itch I just gotta scratch.

Cornered her in the True Crime section, almost lost my composure as I made her jump. Wanted to rip off the choker she’s been wearing to cover up the cuts I put on her neck. Cover her in so many bruises there that nothing she could wear would hide them. Oh, and that smile as she saw who it was. So complimentary of Jed, wanted to say thank you for not dragging her name into my article. Like I’d want to share her with anyone else. Can you imagine the kind of hounding she’d get from all the people trying to work out why she got to live when no one else ever has? Absolutely not.

She offered to go out for drinks, but I dismissed that straight away. Bars are too noisy, too busy. Which is exactly why I hunt in them. But getting one on one time with my girl? By far the wrong setting. And I technically didn’t lie to her, I don’t drink when I go out. I have far more important things to focus on. And I really don’t want to have to share her with anyone else.

But I did get her to take me to lunch. And Papa Johnson didn’t raise his boy to turn down a free lunch. The conversation I got out of her though? So opinionated, didn’t know she had it in her but I like it.

She’s so dismissive of others in my field, but me? She compared me to The Miner. A Legend. Spoke at length about how they’re never going to catch me. How I’m too good, even if the cops weren’t a bunch of idiots who can’t barely tell which end of their guns to point at the other guy. And she hit the nail right on the head about where I hunt people. I just want to crack her skull open and pick through that weird little brain of hers. See if I’m in there as deep as she’s in mine.

Don’t like that she’s had to deal with creeps coming to leer at her whilst she’s working. Can’t see why anyone would want anything to do with the other two she was working with. Although they were trying damn hard to get a look at me as we were leaving for lunch. I know my girl’s a shut in, but was it that unusual for her?

It was a good lunch, wish it had gone on for longer. It would’ve, if I wasn’t fucking interrupted. Gonna find out who double booked the staff photographer, see if they end up having a little accident. I’m gonna be late to following her home because of this shit. Small bright side is the extra cash from filling in means I’ll be able to afford to fix my car’s AC. Starting to get uncomfortably warm here. Roseville’s been great for executing my designs, but next time I’m picking somewhere less fucking humid.

---

I called her work. I know it’d only been a couple of hours, but I couldn’t resist. And she was into it. I could tell. Plus, had to set up some expectations for tonight. Want her fully present and in her right mind for this. As much as my girl has a right mind. She’s just so fucked up already, I wanna see what happens when I start to press on her. Gonna bend her how I want her, see what cracks start to form. Gonna make me the only thing she fucking thinks about. That’s when I’ll kill her. Gotta work up a design that’s just as pretty as she is. I’ll admit I’ve been having trouble with coming up with one. Every time I start to think of something, it’s just not good enough. Just doesn’t get the point across right.

Fuck, I wish I could’ve been watching her on the phone though. See her face as she realised it was me calling. Did she smile like she does for Jed, or did she freeze up, not wanting the other one to see how much I thrill her? Because I did, I could hear it in her voice. She’s not scared of me. Normally I’d find that insulting, but she wants me to visit her so bad I think I can find it in myself to forgive her.

I think she’s more scared of me leaving her alone than anything else. I wouldn’t, couldn’t do that. Not to my girl. But she doesn’t have to know that. She’s already been such a dirty girl for me when I’ve just asked her to do something. What would she do with motivation?

More importantly, what’s she going to do tonight? She knows I’m coming for her. Doubt she’d do something as stupid as call the police, but I’ll scope her place out first just to make sure. Can’t be too safe after all. Will she dress up for me? Make herself pretty? That’s a nice idea, but I do kinda like her as she is. World weary and taken by ennui. And something about her wandering around just in those big t shirts really does something for me.

But something started between us that night we first met. And I’ve been so attentive to her. More so than any other useless asshole in her life. And tonight? Tonight we work out precisely what we have. And I intend to take my time, to thoroughly work through it with her. Going over it repeatedly.

And maybe then I can get back to my list.

[yellowcry]

So, I remembered YLMDIW exists.

I'm not sure if it will be added to the fic later. Tho there's good chance it will

A quiet, barely audible squeak made Luisa freeze for a second. Her neck cracked as she slowly looked behind her. Dolores was unmoving in the doorway. Staring at Luisa with wide-open eyes.

"Lores…" Luisa hummed in a sickeningly sweet tone, approaching her cousin. Dolores felt goosebumps chilling down her spine. "Lores, Lores, what did you hear?" She didn't need to ask questions, she knew the answer already.

Dolores let out a short breath, shrinking as Luisa towered over her. Her first intention was to run away; she had to tell Abuela what was going on. A giant palm wrapped around her arm. Dolores wasn't really tall and went after her mother in her build. Even with Luisa's gift acting off, she had a lot of physical advantages.

"You can't…" Dolores tried to reason, but she had to admit how scared she was. "Luisa! What the heck are you talking about?"

Luisa whispered through her bared teeth. "Do you want your brothers to disappear?" The way she spoke. Her slow movements, made Dolores feel terrified. "Your parents?"

What was Luisa talking about? Why would they disappear?

Mirabel… Goddamit, it was why Luisa even thought about destroying the miracle.

"Listen, no one is going to leave," Dolores muttered, trying to pull away, escape her cousin's grip.

Somewhere deep inside Dolores had to expect this. She knew Luisa wasn't in the right headspace since when Mirabel left. How many times did she hear Luisa pushing her body over the brink, passing out from the lack of sleep? How many times did she hear Luisa talking to herself, whispering that she had to find her sister? Dolores hadn't done anything about it.

Luisa's grip got tighter, leaving a bruise on Dolores' skin. "Don't lie to me!" Her irises shrunk, staring into Lola's soul. Making her skin crawl. "They will. They will escape, die," She emphasized the last word. "All because of that damn candle!"

Dolores had no idea of what to do. She never interfered until she had no other choice. But now it was too late. If only she had done anything before, maybe Luisa wouldn't come to that mental state.

Casita's tiles flickered, trying to pull them apart. Instead, Luisa growled, grabbing Dolores into her arms. " What am I supposed to do with you?" She sighed as Dolores shifted uncomfortably. She had to get away, Abuela must know what happened!

Luisa took her upstairs, despite Casita's efforts to keep them separate. They were in Luisa's room. And it was bad! Luisa's grasp didn't falter, as she took a rope with her free hand. Was she serious?

Dolores tried to struggle, pushing herself against the strong muscles as she was pressed against one of the punching bags, designed specifically for Luisa's advanced strength. The rope was wrapped tightly, first around her wrists, securing them behind her back. Her arms were wrapped around the bag. Luisa secured her tightly.

Dolores was trembling, terrified. Trying to push herself away. She was kidnapped by her own cousin.

"You don't have to do this!" Dolores breathed out, hoping to get Luisa's attention.

"Yes, I do!" Luisa stared down at her. "I am the protector of this family, I had to keep you all safe!"

"You don't keep me safe!"

Luisa looked down, her fists clenched into tight fists. Her knuckles got white. "Between hurting one person and causing harm to entire family, what do you think is better?"

Luisa had really gone crazy, hadn't she?

[savebatsfromscratch]

Windmills and Seabreezes - Palletshipping Week 4 (Coming Home)

Summary:

Ash returns from his final Journey. He can't seem to feel at home.

Notes:

Prompt: Coming Home Note: Btw I have NOT watched any of Journeys. This was just so clear in my head I had to spit it out. Apologies if it’s kinda wacky. This is intended to be a Palletshipping end game, but it’s rather convoluted and extremely open-ended. I still think it counts though, and it is my opinion that matters so… Cws: Post breakup whump. (Satogou for reference.) Mental turmoil. It’s NOT happy. Words: 1,518

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54897274

Ash dropped his bag onto his bed and sighed.

So that was really the end huh?

The sudden rush of tiredness wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t at all unusual to feel a little sore after coming home from a journey, just like it wasn’t at all unusual to feel aches creeping into focus after actually getting a room in a hotel for once. It wasn’t even surprising to feel the ever present question of, “what am I even doing here?” spin inside his head.

No.

None of that was the problem.

He sat on the edge of his bed and tried to talk himself into feeling better. He had done it! He didn’t have to fight anymore, he had won. No matter how unlikely it had seemed, especially with his soul crushing defeat in the Kalos league, he had done it. For whatever reason, trainer critics never seemed to take his Alola win seriously, only reflecting on his loss in the Kalos semifinals, and he had to admit that it had got to him a little bit!

But this was not that!

This was something undeniable.

The masters tournament, something that was meant to be the best of the best, and he had won!

So… Why did he still feel so down?

Was there really nothing beyond this? Of course not! He still hadn’t won in most of the leagues he had been a part of, and there were missions upon missions to take on in any project he desired, if he chose to go down a different path. Heck, he hadn’t even given contests or performances a real shot, those looked fun, he knew for a fact that you had to be made of something special to do well there. Beyond that, he hadn’t even been to many regions, completely losing out on their styles of being a trainer.

He’d never tried wild pokemon photography, or card games, or research puzzles, or ranger life, or battle simulators, or capture contests, or any of the other things that he’d heard fellow trainers raving about on the roads. Sure, not all of those options really sounded like his style, but just the fact that there were so many of them clearly meant that there was more out there to do! There was more to learn, more to experience, more to grow in and with, why wasn’t he excited about it?

Of course, he knew the answer.

Duh.

Losing traveling partners always hurt him, but this most recent loss was on a level that Ash found almost completely unprecedented. …almost. There had only been one other abandonment that hurt quite so bad, but it had been years and years since that loss, and now his wounds felt fresh and reopened.

If he couldn’t look at someone he loved, hold their hands, and tell him they’d always been together, what did it matter that he was the champion? What did it matter that there was more to do? What did it matter that he was not yet perfect? He certainly hadn’t been perfect when he’d been unable to see anything but him.

Why had he come back?

Until that point, Ash had felt comfortable, even happy with Goh at his side. Until that point, he had finally thought he had found someone to whom a promise of “forever” wouldn’t be a dirty lie. Finally someone who could, and would, save him, make him clean and whole once more.

Someone who, funnily enough, was exactly the type of person who could make Ash break his promise.

That was his problem, he guessed. He never seemed to be able to pick one. Did he want to be a champion or a friend of Pokemon? Did he want to keep in one region, or did he want to head onto the next? What even was the next? Should he go left, or should he make the right decision? Should he try something new, now that it was over, that which he had spent, and on occasion, even lost, his life in order to achieve?

What about him made it so impossible to make a decision like this?

He forced himself to lay down in his bed, forcing his mind to calm down. He couldn’t risk accidentally stomping his feet and alerting his mother to his distress. He had just gotten home, as far as she knew, he had never even been dating Gou, let alone broken up with him, and he wanted to keep her shielded from his tears for as long as possible.

Ash stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning.

Maybe the problem was not that it was over, but that he knew it was for the best.

He had loved Gou, yes. 

But he had loved Gary longer, and seeing his former rival come back into his life had turned everything on its head. Despite everything, Ash still loved Gary, and, as it turned out, when choosing between the two of them, Ash would pick Gary. 

From an outsider's perspective, Gou and Gary may have appeared to be a sort of uncertain friendship, but Ash knew better.

But apparently not enough to save his relationship.

Forgetting all about not alerting his mom to his distress, Ash clambered to his feet. He had to get out of the house. He had to go somewhere else. The air, so clearly different from the winds that had blown through the trees on his many adventures, felt stuffy and all too warm. Even with the window cracked open, it was hard to hear the sounds of Pokemon around him, and the unnatural shape of rectangular shadows coming through the thin opening glowed with a very false looking sunset.

Despite traveling for so long, it seemed he was not quite ready to go back to a “normal” life, not quite yet.

He hadn’t removed his coat when jumping into his bed, but his bag and Pokemon were left behind as he left his room, crept down the stairs (past where his mother was cooking in the kitchen), and slipped out of the house. Once outside, he took a deep breath of air, but it was not quite right either. It was clean and cool, and tasted of a coming night time, but it was not what he was looking for.

Almost aimlessly, Ash began to walk. He walked between trees, houses, and occasional agricultural fields. The land of Pallet was nearly pristine, almost lacking entirely in pollution, and yet the air was not yet perfect.

He followed a small stream of water, not even thinking about where he was going as it winded down a hill, past the research station, past an old patch of red flowers, now mostly withered, and flowed into the sea. Ash looked up, as if only then he was realizing where his walk had taken him. The place wasn't the same as where his heart had longed to be, but the feeling of the wind over the huge expanse of water brought the very same feeling to his lungs.

He breathed in deeply, and let his mind run through memories.

As the sun sank, he remembered everything he could manage.

He had loved Gou, and though he knew it was going to be a while before those wounds stopped aching, he suddenly realized that he was feeling better in the presence of the air of the waterside. It was just as Gou had said, they would both be happier this way.

He had said it with a sad expression, and he had said it with a nod, when his group of explorers had walked back into view.

All the way home, Ash had wondered what he had meant, but now he knew.

This was not an ending, as the setting sun told him, but a new beginning. This was a chance to make his life good again, even better than what he had felt before. It had practically been a command, and who was he to disobey a former love’s last wish?

Ash turned to look behind him, looking up at the slow turning of the windmill of the lab. 

It spun calmly, unshaken by what he was feeling, a constant in his life of constant changing, it seemed to represent the endless cycles he so often found himself in. He felt a rush of wind come across the ocean, and he hugged his hands to his chest. No matter what his past threw at him, he was going to find a place in his future.

He continued to watch as the lights of the lab flickered on, inviting an occupant back home, back into the embrace of the clean walls and bookshelves. Ash stared into one of the windows, and suddenly he was half sure that he had seen a familiar explosion of brown hair look back at him.

As Gou had told him, it was time to live their lives the way they wanted to, a way that was safer. Maybe for Ash, who had been traveling for who knew how long, that safety was right there at home.

Notes:

???? Idk if this fits the prompt. Comments very appreciated!

[funforahermit]

It's funny how being a fan of Rhys Darby has led me to become a fan of a lot of his friends as well. That's never happened to me before, with any of my other crushes, and I don't really know what's different this time?? Maybe it means that I just really have a thing for kiwis, who knows 'xD But let's see -

There's Jonno Roberts of course, absolute comedic GENIUS, pipes like you wouldn't believe, actor par excellence, and sexy as fuck. His on screen chemistry with Rhys is off the charts, even better than Rhys and Taika imo (controversial opinion alert 'xD), but I find that I also enjoy watching Jonno on his own. And the little bit I know of his personal life is endearing as heck, not least because he's a firm trans ally.

David Farrier, irresistable mixture between fearless journalist and complete mess! Dark Tourist, Tickled, Mister Organ - those are all deeply fascinating documentaries, and I can never decide if I want him to tell me more about the deepest darkest secrets of humanity or if I want him to get the hell out of there and stay away from danger for god's sake 'xD Lately I've been going through his podcast Flightless Bird, and just... everything he talks about is really interesting and compelling. And yes, the accent helps, I admit that. Also, bonus points for being a fellow bisexual 🤟

Jemaine Clement!!! God he's hot. Like is it just me or is he just..... SO hot. Like damn. I'm sure I could also talk at length about his talent, but I am kind of distracted. Fuck.

Bret McKenzie: I adore his solo album Songs Without Jokes, I listened to it so many times when it came out, and now all the songs are part of my permanent playlist. I love them to bits.

The last two together, obviously, are the best duo ever and I can't get enough of their songs or their comedy.

Steve Wrigley! Now I'm not gonna lie, I'm not the biggest fan of his stand-up and for the longest time I couldn't understand why Rhys would insist on touring with him and make him his opening act all the time. But I get it now. I've grown to love him for the amazing friend that he is, and for looking after Rhys so perfectly - even if some of his jokes make me go a bit :/ (The Ohakune airport story is hilarious though!)

Dan Schreiber - NOT a kiwi! 'xD Amazing brain, amazing way with words, amazing spirit of adventure, amazing sense of humour. One of these days I'm gonna listen to all his other podcasts (beside the Cryptid Factor I mean), just haven't found the time yet.

I feel like this is an uncomplete list, but I gotta go and do some real life stuff now.. Just wanted to say that I love them!! And I've got Rhys to thank for knowing them at all.

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Gates to Heck Chapter 7

Shigeo teleported them back to Seasoning City and promptly threw up in a flower bed.

Ritsu used his powers to levitate Teru's prone form, while Reigen did his best to block them from view. People had been a lot more accepting of psychic powers in Seasoning since Claw attacked, but most of them had accepted that it was a problem.

Shigeo was probably also grateful for the privacy.

He had wanted to carry Teru himself, but Ritsu said that "Hanazawa has been through enough for one night without someone throwing up in his hoodie." Shigeo opened his mouth to argue, maybe that it was technically his hoodie.

Then he sighed instead, barely more than an exhale.

"Please be careful," he said. "I think his chest got hurt when he was struggling."

"I could carry him," said Shou. "I'm very gentle. I have hamsters."

"What does that even-" Ritsu started to ask, but Shou interrupted him.

"And I've never dunked my Shishou in a rice paddy."

"He isn't my Shishou!"

Teru had passed out while they were still arguing over who got to carry him. Reigen woke him right back up and made him name the Prime Minister and at least two Vocaloids. Teru rolled his eyes during the concussion check, but he definitely did it on purpose, which alleviated about five percent of Reigen's immediate concerns.

Anyway, the kid looked like he needed some sleep.

Teru's hair was plastered to his head with dirty water, which had also washed off the makeup he'd apparently been wearing. The skin around his nose was tight and technicolor. At least it didn't look broken, but he seemed to be having trouble breathing normally, whether from the swelling or his recent not-technically-waterboarding, which Reigen was trying not to think about while he was in a Family Mart because the cigarettes were right there.

They stopped at the convenience store on their way to Seasoning General to pick up a sports drink for Shigeo. He wanted milk, but Reigen insisted he needed to replenish his electrolytes.

Reigen bought him a carton of milk to drink later.

He also bought himself a pack of cigarettes to have much later, when there were no children around to see him freak the fuck out.

Teru regained consciousness in the waiting room. Reigen had been hoping to get him admitted first, but he had never encountered an emergency room that took its name seriously. They had been waiting for almost an hour when Teru stirred awake.

Reigen was worried about another teleportation incident, but apparently Teru didn't have the energy, because he started arguing instead.

"I don't need to be here," he said, and his voice sounded like he was the one with the smoking problem. "I'm fine."

Shigeo shook his head. "You don't have to lie, Hanazawa-kun."

"I'm not!"

"I think he's fine by his standards, Mob," said Reigen. "Drink your electrolytes."

Shigeo obediently sipped his sports drink.

"Reigen-san," Teru started, but Reigen cut him off.

"If you're worried about the hospital siccing Social Services on you, then you can unclench. I managed to convince them you're my nephew."

"You… what?"

"It was so cool," said Shou. "He didn't even give them a chance to ask any questions. He was just all, 'My sister is so irresponsible!'"

"Which is true," said Reigen.

"And, 'I only recently found out that Teruki has been living alone for years!'"

"Which is true."

"And, 'I'm going to make sure he gets the care he deserves from now on!'"

Reigen didn't say it this time, but the implication alone left Teru looking like he was going to bolt whether he had the juice for it or not.

"They do have some concerns about your medical history," said Reigen, casting about for a distraction.

"Huh? But I haven't been to the doctor in years."

"That's the main concern," said Reigen. "We might have to get you vaccinated at some point if I don't want the hospital siccing Social Services on me, but don't worry. We'll smooth it over."

Reigen shifted in the easily-sterilized plastic chair. If he was uncomfortable, he couldn't imagine how Teru felt.

"That's not it," said Teru. "It's not safe for other patients."

"Huh?"

"Why wouldn't it be safe?" asked Shigeo.

"I ended up in the hospital once, a few years ago," said Teru. He was talking fast, like he was afraid the waiting room nurse would actually finish processing their paperwork sometime that century. "Some do-gooder called an ambulance after a Claw attack. I was fine, but they wouldn't let me go."

"I still don't understand-"

"Claw attacked the hospital. No one died, but it… wasn't good. They threw an MRI machine. I had to tell every lie I could think of just to keep them from calling my parents or the Child Guidance Center. There wouldn't be anything to stop Claw from attacking me there either."

"They never attacked you at school, right?" asked Ritsu. "Why would they attack you at a hospital? Aren't there too many people?"

"People, but not psychics," said Teru. "Claw thought I knew other espers. Other kids. Maybe they even thought the Black Vinegar gang was some sort of Psychic Squad. We did get a bit of a reputation for levitating people."

"Oh," said Shigeo, "Your introduction."

It was hard to tell with the fever, but Teru might have blushed. "It's a good way to intimidate and immobilize at the same time, okay?"

Reigen was having a hard time following their conversation, but that had never stopped him before. "Claw's gone now, right? The names on your conspiracy-board were all crossed off. Ochinko-san was the last one, and he's in custody. You're not getting out of a checkup that easily."

"They can't even do anything," Teru wasn't giving up that easily either. "They can't do anything for a concussion or cracked ribs, and my shoulder's already back in its socket."

"They can give you painkillers," said Reigen, trying not to let his wince show. He hadn't even known about the dislocated shoulder.

"I don't want painkillers," said Teru. "They make it hard to think."

"You shouldn't be thinking if you have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, Hanazawa-kun," said Shigeo, which surprised them both enough that they stopped arguing.

"What?" Teru rasped. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I know you told me about how you can set broken bones with your powers, but I've never done it before, and I was afraid of messing up, so I thought it would be better to let the doctors set your ribs. I'm protecting and supporting them though. I hope that's okay."

That was probably a good thing, since Reigen was reasonably sure that you couldn't actually set broken ribs.

There weren't a lot of treatment options. Teru had been right about that. They could treat the pain, but the primary course of treatment for broken ribs was just holding real still and not breathing too hard.

Reigen's irresponsible sister had broken a rib in a moped accident sophomore year. She'd been laid up for a couple of weeks, and she'd recruited Reigen to help convince their parents it was just period cramps.

Their dad had bought it, but their mom had gotten suspicious around the second week.

Teru looked pathetic, still dripping slightly onto the laminate flooring. He still managed a smile for Shigeo. "You're amazing Kageyama-kun. I can't feel a thing."

"That might be the shock." Shigeo frowned infinitesimally. "We should get you a blanket."

Before they could get Teru a blanket, he was actually admitted. The kids insisted on coming too, so the nurse led them all to a small room that definitely wasn't intended to contain multiple teenagers. Another nurse took Teru's temperature and blood pressure while they all pretended not to notice his hands shake.

Eventually the doctor joined them.

"I understand you're having a rough day, young man," he said in what was probably not intended to be a patronizing tone.

Teru shrugged his good shoulder. He seemed to be in a fugue state. He managed a polite smile for the medical staff, but it was like he'd used up all his words trying to convince them he didn't need help, which had only convinced them he needed a lot of help. Preferably professional. Reigen wondered if he still had the number of that therapist whose patient was literally haunted.

"Can you tell me how these injuries occurred?" asked the doctor.

Reigen opened his mouth to answer, but his mind went blank as a fresh word document. He didn't have a single lie lined up. Some conman he was. They were going to get in so much trouble.

"Basketball is a dangerous sport," said Shigeo.

"I see," said the doctor, and that was that. Apparently he was used to teenagers. Although probably not teenagers like these.

Teru's polite smile slipped when the doctor threatened to X-ray his ribs, and Reigen wondered how many untreated injuries they would find.

Not untreated. He'd heard Shigeo earlier, no matter how much he wished he hadn't. Teru had been treating his own injuries. Setting his own bones.

Reigen reminded himself that he definitely wasn't allowed to smoke in a hospital.

Teru was released less than an hour later with a shoulder brace and a prescription for a mild painkiller. Reigen filled it in the hospital pharmacy while the kids tried not to fall asleep on each other in the waiting room.

It was past their bedtimes. Ritsu had called the Kageyamas to explain that they were with an adult, even if it wasn't a very responsible one. Then Shigeo took the phone and exchanged some quiet words with his mother that Reigen hadn't been able to overhear no matter how hard he tried.

Even Shou had called his mother, but that had been less about explaining why he was out late, and more about describing their adventure, with unnecessary emphasis on the part where Ritsu dunked Reigen in a rice paddy.

"Okay, kids. Let's go home. Hanazawa, you're with me."

"Can't he come home with us?" asked Shigeo. "We have real food at our house."

Sometimes Reigen couldn't tell if his student was giving him sass or just being blunt.

He cleared his throat. "That's why God invented takeout."

"I don't need to go home with anyone," said Teru, but he was universally ignored.

"Besides, do you want to explain this to your mother?" Reigen asked Shigeo, gesturing vaguely at Teru's everything. "Because I sure don't."

"Why not?" asked Teru. "It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not," said Reigen, "but you would have been safe at home with only about half of your current injuries if I hadn't barged in and acted like I knew what was best for you."

"Probably not for long. He knows where I live."

"Okay!" Reigen clapped his hands together. "At the risk of sounding like a child abductor, you're definitely coming home with me. I'd invite the rest of you, but I don't think there's enough room."

"I'm coming too," said Shigeo. "I don't take up much room."

Reigen sighed. He only had one spare futon, which Shigeo should know, since he was the only one who had ever used it.

"Mob-"

"I already told Kaa-san."

"...What exactly did you tell her?"

Reigen was not intimidated by Shigeo's mother or her ability to narrow her eyes and see through every single lie he told, because that would be silly.

"That Hanazawa-kun is sick, and you're taking care of him."

Reigen sighed again. "Sorry, sick kid." That was what he had told the cab driver who took him to Teru's apartment that afternoon. Reigen could barely believe it was still the same day. The hospital clocks were just ticking over to midnight.

"Can we have a sleepover too?" Shou asked Ritsu.

"No."

"Come on! I can borrow Ritsu's Nii-san's futon. He won't mind. Right, Ritsu's Nii-san?"

"I don't mind," said Shigeo.

They argued about it all the way out to the hospital entrance, where Reigen called a cab to take them home. He slid into the front passenger seat while the kids crowded together in the back.

"Long time no see," said the cab driver. It was the one from that afternoon. The one who hadn't minded all the swearing. She glanced at Teru in the rearview mirror.

"Damn," she said. "You weren't kidding."

[joz-yyh]

Rust - Ch. 10

SUMMARY: *Flashback Chapter!* Damian returns from the cove to find his teacher waiting for him. Will this reunion see their relationship deepen? No Beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (groping / first kiss)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

WORD COUNT: 4,632

READ ON Ao3: Here!!

A/N: Sorry, it's taken me forever to get back into this. Hopefully, ya’ll are still interested in it. ^^; Think this might be the last of the flashback chapters? Next one will be focusing on the present. (Heck, even I get turned around in a nonlinear story) XD

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

Tardif wouldn't admit that he's waiting, loitering maybe, arms crossed, hiding in the alleyway, keeping an eye on any and all who pass through the promenade.

He sees the usual faces, tired residents going about their miserable existence with their wagons and livestock, stamping away at dead earth, no one noteworthy.

Time passes, a good hour maybe and now he has to wonder if the tip about the expedition party returning today was given on poor authority. If so, his informant will pay dearly for the con of bad intel and just as he thinks of an appropriate punishment, the grave robber in her trademark hat and boots saunters into town.

It's not long before Audrey spots him, offering a smirk in his direction, a clue that she knew more about why he was here than he would give her credit for.

He's hoping the obtrusive blonde will go away if he ignores her, but no such luck, the woman changing her trajectory, headed straight toward him.

“And just what are you doing here, all alone in the corner? Waiting for me,” she teases, bowing forward in a wide stance, sporting a haversack of loot on her shoulder, “You're gonna give a girl the wrong idea.”

“Ye got nothin, I want,” he snorts at her, avoiding her eyes.

“Oh, I am sure that's not entirely true,” she taunts, taking out a coin purse, dangling it at him, “Penny for your thoughts?”

The brute snatches her bribe before she can redact her offer and Audrey, the blasted girl, makes herself comfortable, occupying the other side of the alley, reposed as a mirror image of him.

“I am waitin’.”

“Is that all my money gets me,” she frowns, having surmised that on her own, “a droll observation? I want my purse back.”

Cut off gloves sway her beckoning nails, but Tardif turns his nose away, not giving her payment back, seeking to count it instead.

“Fine, waitin’ fer him.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“And what do you plan to do when this ‘him’ arrives,” the thief giggles, the frills of her ascot accentuating it, arms crossed in classy debonair fashion.

“That’ll cost more,” he growls, noting how few gold pieces there were inside. Usually, he could tell the quantity by sound alone, but the overabundance of silver shillings threw him off.

“I think I've lightened my purse enough for one evening. You'll have to bear my company for another minute.”

The haggard brim of her hat swivels, Audrey turning her sharp eyes to Josie and Amani, the next heroines to arrive back home.

If the serpent dancer was still in possession of both hands, one would certainly be holding the antiquarian’s, the two women walking so close together, brushing shoulders at every step, batting convivial eyelashes at each other.

“Just look at them. Thick as thieves. Headed to the caravan to drink with the trinket girl, I imagine.”

“Ain't no business of mine,” Tardif grunts, trying to kill any attempt at conversation.

“You're not as fun as a certain flagellant I know,” Audrey sighs, Tardif's standoffish behavior wearing her down quicker than a pair of primadonna heels, “I think I like him better.”

“Don't be gettin’ any ideas.”

“Oh please, my tastes strictly lie in girls, specifically brunettes. Besides, he seems entirely fixated on this fat owl bear who gave him some stupid rope as a courtship ritual.”

Tardif feels the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks, fists clenching around the fabric of his biceps. He refuses to acknowledge his female tormentor, keeping his attention on the road ahead, where the cursed regions lie, their dark hills a much better view.

The flagellant must be lagging behind as usual; otherwise, he wouldn't be stuck in this situation. The fool better not have died on him. He's tempted to ask Audrey, but she gave him no cause to assume the worst had happened, only that he's late.

“Don't worry bounty hunter, he'll be along,” the lady says, getting up to take her leave, their cavorting at its end, “Could try being nice to him for a change. Might work out better for you.”

Tardif has never been good at taking advice, especially hers and at these, her parting words, his quarry's somber hood finally lobs into view.

His head is cast down, limbs heavy with weariness, rope strewn crossbody so it swoops against his waist and damn if isn't one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen leading off into the horizon.

Cloaked in stealth, Audrey hides herself amongst the districts, sticking around to witness how the two look at each other from across the square, getting her money's worth.

Damian seems truly surprised to notice his mentor there, waiting for his return, and suddenly all his weariness is expelled, scampering the rest of the distance with a crooked smile.

He gathers the rope, throws the band of loops around the bounty hunter’s neck in blissful celebration, using the tether to pull him in, knocking their heads together.

“What stories I have to tell you,” Damian beams, eyes sparkling with excitement.

The brute wasn't expecting such a showy reception, a poor man's coronation, weary of an audience, namely Audrey.

“Then tell me,” Tardif says, grabbing a bloody hand, dragging the miscreant along to some place more private, away from the public eye.

—-

They're at Tardif's special practice field, this becoming their usual meeting spot, occupying one of the benches inside a spectator's box while Damian talks up a storm.

Tardif has since passed the rope onto the flagellant's collar, letting the loops dangle from a spiked hook, wearing the morbid gallows favor for long enough.

Damian is all too happy to inherit it again, this helping him to reenact his story, hands molding into a broad arch.

“The creature was gargantuan,” the priest turned bard says, “pincers like you wouldn't believe.”

“Heh, that right,” Tardif laughs, enjoying the epic tale. Junia had said Damian had a knack for telling stories if only he'd chosen to listen back then. “So, wot did ye do?”

“The shaman cast spell after spell, strengthening their defense, summoning another foe. Our party bled from their claws, but I took their wounds, made them my own.”

A fist curled in triumph, Damian flexing his muscles, to which the axeman can only goad him on.

“Did ye?”

“Yes, you should have seen it, such bright red spilling around my feet. They lunged for a final strike, thinking they had me, but I bound their weapons in a snare, just as you taught me.”

“Wot ‘bout Audrey? She pull her weight?”

He's hoping for some blackmail, a token of payback, but the flagellant only has great remarks to honor her with.

“Her pickaxe was most helpful in dismantling the coral,” Damian nods, “Her darts struck one of the fish people, took out it's eye. Popped like a bubble.”

The cove didn't bother Tardif nearly as much as the warrens, but Damian paints a very vivid picture, whinging at the comparison, especially sensitive about eyes.

“And Josephine?”

“Her vapors reached far into their ranks, but the king crab nearly cut through its binds, you can see here where it's frayed.”

He pauses in his recounting to find it, showing off the inanimate object's injury. Tardif will have to remember to patch it with tar even if Damian will most likely want to keep it as a wound to match his own, but nothing worse than snapped rope when your life was on the line.

“Thankfully, Amani was able to pierce its carapace with her spear. After that, it was only a matter of time until the battle was won.”

He knew the snake charmer would be a valuable asset to the team, and with the way Damian illustrated their adventure, it felt like Tardif had witnessed every blow for himself.

“If only you had seen the whale carcass,” his companion says more solemnly, a missed opportunity, “Such vast pools of blood, large enough to drown the entire town in its weight.”

By that account, perhaps its best the rotting beast stayed right where it was.

“Could make a trip sometime,” the huntsman jests, an impulse of flippant sarcasm.

Damian lights up, invigorated, skin prickling with energy.

“Truly, you’d let me take you?”

The mercenary meant it unwittingly, a rhetorical suggestion, but now that he’s seen how exhilarated Damian’s become, how can he possibly say, ‘no?’

“If it means that much to ye.”

“It does! Josephine taught me a shortcut. We only need be mindful of the tentacles.”

Tardif would rather avoid the slimy charms of wild calamari, preferring to keep his distance lest he become seafood himself and before he can wrap himself up in any more impending occult nonsense, he swerves the conversation onto much tamer topics.

“Anyway, sounds like ye earned this.”

Tardif was waiting for the right moment to share his gift, this as good a time as any, pulling something off the leather jungle of his belt.

“What is it,” the masochist asks, staring at the pouch intently.

“Jerky. Made it myself.”

The holy man seems completely fixated, salivating at the mouth as the burlap sack is opened, his stomach growling, forgetting how hungry he was until this moment.

“C'mon n’ try it,” he teases, “It's rough like yer crustaceans so you’ll hafta wear it down with yer teeth.”

The priest procures a strip of salted beef, a miniscule corner disappearing past his lips. It's true he can't bite through it, the fibers are too thick, but the flavors of hickory and salt have him lapping over it with his tongue, a feast for his taste buds.

“Must you always give me things that tempt my resolve,” the flagellant quips, tearing off a piece with his teeth.

There's some hedonism to be found within the phrase, knowing that the flagellant liked it as much as he did, that Tardif was a constant vice of temptation for him.

“Fear not the holy path, for the difficulties that lie ahead are blessings in disguise,” Tardif quotes, reciting the words in the same manner he heard them spoken.

“Have you been reading up on your scriptures,” the flagellant beams, delighted at the thought, his ears ringing.

“Heh, just somethin’ that's stuck wit’ me. Remembered it from a long time ago.”

The shrug he gives doesn't hide the painful look, the bounty hunter turning his attention toward the ground, the flagellant offering this to console him.

“Often it is the things that resonate with us that prove we are all guided, disciples of the Light.”

“Hn, life has no coincidences.”

The bounty hunter takes a piece of jerky, joining in, sampling his spoils, shutting himself up before they carry on any more religious talk.

The two fall into silence, looking out onto the practice field, more blades of green grass popping up from matted compost.

“The rest is yours,” Tardif says, nodding towards the preserved meat, “It keeps a while so it's good on a journey.”

“Thank you, but I can't accept this.” The smell alone was too heavenly. He would likely eat it all if left to his own devices. “It's too much. Surely, you must take half for yourself.”

“If I did, then ye couldn't share it with the hound and those poor folk outside the church.”

Realization spreads over scared lips, this Tardif's subtle hint at an apology to the ones he hurt.

“I see, an anonymous donation. Who knew a bounty hunter could be so charitable?”

“Don't get used to it,” he snorts, smirking at him.

“Ah, perhaps a reward would persuade you?”

“A reward, huh,” he muses, rubbing his scruff in contemplation, “Think I got somethin’.”

He beckons, provoking his companion closer, knowing this was to be a decisive moment between them.

Damian seems to feel it too, the gravity, the imbalance, too curious not to obey as Tardif drifts closer, lips hovering near a shrouded ear as if to whisper a secret, but they press against his cheek, giving a chaste kiss against his bloody hood.

He's deposed, abuzz with static. Only one thought cuts through the haze.

“But … aren't I supposed to give you something?”

Tardif laughs at such innocence.

“Could give me one too,” the bounty hunter teases, pointing to his own reserved cheek, “right 'ere.”

Damian takes a sharp inhale, preparing himself to choose which illustrious patch of savage flesh he wishes to christen.

There, a summit right below his metal helm, he recreates the bounty hunter’s actions, intending for a swift deliverance, but oh, one taste of him is his undoing, a genesis for more.

Lips meet bronze, another kiss granted beneath the previous one, leading a winding trail down to the gruff corner of his mouth.

Scarred fingers touch over his chin, molding over the other half of an unshaven face, wanting to kiss that side too, but he's afraid of taking things too far even if Tardif hasn't made a move to stop him yet.

Instead, he brushes his cheek against the brute’s stubble, maybe to take back the advance he made, maybe to coat himself in his scent.

“I want to kiss you so badly,” Damian moans, unable to keep the agony of his desire held within, breath short, gasping for it.

“Then, do it,” the bounty hunter teases with a smirk, having much the same desire.

The flagellant reels with explicit permission, coveting this moment for so long he can hardly believe what he heard was real and truly spoken. Tardif could make this easy for him, take control and separate the distance, but he wants to wait, see how a self-proclaimed holy man would kiss.

It happens in increments, the flagellant moving forward, then amending his choice, pulling back, titling his head, as if he wants this to be the most perfect kiss any one man has given another.

He’s terrified of breaking the illusion, of crossing a line he's only dreamed of crossing, gentle lips stopping at the barest traces of contact, but it’s close enough to be felt, Damian grounding himself with a brush of bloody fingertips against the bounty hunter’s jaw.

The flagellant holds him like he’s something precious, delicate and Tardif can’t stand how such sweetness threatens to seize his heart within a tourniquet grip. He wants to give Damian more of a chance, but this floundering anticipation is killing him, the way the flagellant can’t stop shaking, hardly sure of turning a dazed feather-light peck into a proper kiss.

Tardif needs more roughness, fleshed pressed so tightly that it bruises, the flagellant gasping as the bounty hunter shows him just how much pressure to add.

Reflex and shock have the priest pulling back, but a firm grip on his neck won’t let him go far, yanking him in, joining them together again much more confidently.

Their hands are touching all over each other, some unspoken rule about keeping it above the waist, but it doesn’t stop them from getting more and more flushed. He swears there will be an early spring just from the heat they’re generating alone.

“We can go no farther than this,” is Damian’s ragged testament, breaking them apart.

“Heh, and why’s that,” the brute teases, breathing just as heavily, licking away the string of saliva from his lips.

“This is … overwhelming for me. I ... I need time ... I need to be ready, need to be sure.”

“To wot? Sort out that ye have the hots fer me?”

“... Yes,” Damian admits, blushing furiously, touching their foreheads together, tangling his hands inside the bounty hunter’s cowl.

“Thought ye already figured that out,” he snorts.

“I did, I have, but I never knew just how much I … this would affect me.”

“Yer the one that kept jonesin’ fer more, remember?”

Damian gives him a helpless look, knowing he had no right to ask, but he does so anyway.

“Please, just give me time, a week, just one.”

“Hn … one week,” the bounty hunter muses, teasing his lips against the other’s, breath blowing hot, “s’pose I could do that. Given the right incentive.”

The mercenary is in control now, taking from his partner’s mouth, dipping his tongue in, Damian groaning into it, the bounty hunter sucking on his tongue to keep him quiet because if he’s going to be forced to wait, then he'll need this to hold onto.

It burns, it burns so much between his legs. It’s terrifying, being so consumed, Damian never feeling such an unmeasurable ache before, fearing this heat will never cool, even when gone from the very source.

“Enough, please,” the flagellant says, prying himself away, driving Tardif back, “I … I can barely stand it.”

“Could take care of it fer ye,” the mercenary teases, a jerk of insinuation, “Won't take long.”

Damian is positive it wouldn't, but he's not interested in frivolous groping, degenerate sin that will be over just as soon as it starts. The flagellant wants something more than that, a long, tender meeting that he can look back on and devour for the rest of his days; he just has no idea how to express it.

The holy man hasn't moved, hasn't spoken, teetering between action and inaction while Tardif continues his seduction, leaning closer, voice a treble of enticing gravel.

“I want it too, ye know,” he coos, boldly taking his partner’s hand, guiding it to the hardness in his trousers, “See?”

Damian is frozen, too shocked by this discovery to pull away, so overwhelmed by how quickly their relationship has changed, to know the bounty hunter like this when it was just a fever dream mere moments ago.

Curious with excitement, a bloody palm molds itself over his shape, no more wishful imaginings, but swollen truth.

“Not here,” he pleads, shaking his head, resting his touch on the bounty hunter’s thigh.

“Why not,” his partner grunts, growling with opposition, seeing no difference any other place would make.

His mind is fuzzy, discombobulated and blank with noise, fumbling through an explanation as best he can.

“Let it be somewhere all our own,” he begins, hand now raising to trace the coral rouge of the bounty hunter’s lips, “Make it last so we both remember.”

Ah, he could see the appeal of having their own private room, not at the brothel nor the tavern, but the space of a secluded cabin tucked away in the woods.

“Aye, could take ye as many times as I wanted, make ye scream as loud as I wanted.”

Damian's trembling, his imagination full of what could happen with just one passionate twisting of their bodies and now he has to deal with the possibility of another, maybe more.

The mercenary smirks, prideful, gratified to have a holy man lusting over him, probably toiling with an arousal more painful than his own.

“Think I know a place. Could have it ready in 'bout a week.”

Damian is flooded with relief, glad they could finally come to an agreement, sighing as he is met with yet another obstacle.

“Then, what shall we do now?”

“I'll show ye.”

Tardif untangles them, getting up to grab a raggedy blanket from one of the practice dummies, history repeating itself.

“Ain't it funny,” the bounty hunter remarks, sitting back down beside him, “the dummies losin’ their clothes before we do.”

The flagellant gags with embarrassment, once again reminded of his neglected erection, “No one said to strip them.”

Tardif holds one end of the blanket close around his shoulder, the other end pulled around his back, holding it open for his partner to fill.

“C'mon, it's cold,” he motions, flapping the drape in invitation.

It’s an excuse, Damian knows it; the weather too mild for any snow to keep, the seasons well on their way to changing.

“Are you not warm enough under all those layers,” the priest teases, letting his offer hang in the balance.

“Freezin’,” he taunts, hoping to persuade the masochist back into the intimacy they shared.

Slowly, Damian is convinced, shifting back until their thighs are touching, trying to garner some distance lest they sink into the same cycle they faced not so long ago.

“Can lean on me if ye want.”

It takes a minute, but slowly Damian abides, sinking against him a little more, careful not to give too much.

Such frigidness is too prudent for Tardif, the axeman looking for more contact, taking the flagellant’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“This alright,” he asks, watching him through eyelets of metal.

Damian nods, incapable of words, a knot in his throat.

“Go on then, show me yer grip.”

A chuckle, the priest exasperated, resting his head on an argyle clad shoulder, the coolness of his armor helping to cool the heat of his brow.

“Are we to turn this into a lesson too,” he says, finally finding his voice, squeezing Tardif’s fingers just for a second, a pulse.

“If ye want.”

“And what is it you mean to teach me this time?”

The brute turns this over in his mind, having nothing prepared for the occasion, but finding some scrap of knowledge to share.

“Some say it's the eyes, but it's really our hands that give us away.”

“Do they,” Damian asks, touch slipping further down, toying with the hem of his partner's glove, lured by the warmth that resides within.

“Look at wot they reach for,” the brute continues, conscious of his partner’s every move, curious of how far he'll push, “if they shake or twitch.”

The flagellant strokes at the liminal space, where the fabric of his sleeve meets his skin, seeking more allowance, but unable to pursue it, hindered by form fitting leather.

Tardif slips it off for him, bearing the fullness of his hand and Damian gasps at it, tracing over the black and red of his tattoos, idols he's only witnessed from afar.

He can feel where the ink lines are heaviest, the color thicker there, how the roughness of his skin brushes against his own, the scruff of hair that fills the gaps between.

“What do yours say?”

“Why don't ye tell me,” Tardif challenges, letting the man explore, figure it out for himself.

“You're stubborn,” he assesses, tracing over the numerous callouses embedded unto his palm, “but strong,” now over the wide berth of knuckles, broken and worn, “and cunning,” ending with the spaces between his fingers, tracing over the dips and waves.

“Not bad. Ye forgot well-endowed.”

“Tardif,” the flagellant scolds, pinching the skin on the back of his hand in recompense.

“Heh, it's true.”

“Besides the point.”

“Proves my point. Never heard a woman gossip about a man's hands and feet?”

Perhaps, but he never gave much credit to such crude gossip.

“Just, tell me about mine.”

“Did bandage yer feet that one time and judgin’ by what I saw –”

“Speak one more word and I'll–”

“– Alright, alright; just wanted to tease ye a bit.”

Damian huffs, stewing with frustration, so focused on it that he doesn't pick up on Tardif tracing over the patchwork of scars etched into the expanse of his own hand, not until he's speaking aloud.

“Yer overbearin’, reckless, stickin’ yer damn hand in a cage no matter how hard it bites back.”

He's starting to think Tardif is using this exercise as a means to insult him, that is until he hears the next bit, digits streaking down the dried blood on his nails, “ye cling to pain because ye think it makes ye better, but yer brave ‘nough wit’out it.”

“So,” the priest drawls, “more endowed than you.”

“Heh, hey,” the gruff warrior cackles, elbowing him in the side.

The flagellant is smirking, possessing the bigger wit when the bounty hunter takes him by the chin, his shrine of cracked teeth faltering, Tardif claiming the last word as they press against his lips.

“Guess we'll have to wait and see.”

The flagellant is getting better, now that the jitters of their first kiss have passed. He's pressing back, their lips connecting harder, longer, but there's still softness in it, ephemeral wings that brush sweetly over his.

Tardif's wayward fingers graze over jagged serrations, making his partner gasp and shudder, the flagellant breaking away to breathe heavily into the crook of his neck, trying not to moan and yet it heralds a pathetic whimper.

They keep gearing each other up and then letting it cool, the spike of passion reduced to a more manageable smolder, taking intermittent breaks in between to snuggle or gab about whatever comes to mind.

This pattern continues on well into the night, the bounty hunter careful not to overstep his bounds and drive the flagellant away, but they've grown too attached, lenient, about to fall asleep out here.

“Should head back,” Tardif suggests and Damian simply nods, following the other's lead.

The blanket is returned to its proper place, the two making the trip back to town under a blackened sky and twinkling diamond dust.

Tardif had kept his glove off, putting it away in his pocket because he intends to reclaim the flagellant's hand, chasing after the feeling of it in his.

The other man is startled, fire when they touch, gripping back shyly, their joined hands swinging jovially between them.

At this, their pace slows, dragging the time out, spending more of it together.

When they stop, it's just below the abbey, the chipped granite of it's stairway calling Damian to it.

Tardif takes another scrappy hand in his, coupling two for two, rubbing over bruised knuckles in sober repetitions.

“It's gonna be a long week,” he sighs, wondering how he'll survive nearly two hundred hours of longing.

“It will be worth the wait,” assures the other.

“Better be,” Tardif barks, but it's playful, jaunty.

“You have my word.”

It should be dark enough to conceal what he's about to do, free from any wandering eyes that might protest his next move.

Raw instinct has Damian leaning into that broad chest, giving his partner a farewell kiss on the cheek, adding another light peck afterwards because it's becoming a signature of his, to give back twice as much as he receives.

The bounty hunter plants a big fat one on him to match, parting them with a wet smack, tasting copper and salt, making the flagellant chuckle.

“Six more days,” the brute drawls, the wait already proving to be a painful one.

“Seven,” Damian corrects, prolonging his torture, “The week doesn't begin until tomorrow.”

He swears, the flagellant is doing everything in his power to turn him into a masochist too.

“Can ye blame me, for wantin’ to shorten it?”

“No, not at all.”

Thready whispers of yearning as the priest bestows one last caress of pious lips, Tardif closing arms around the splintered cuts of a narrow waist, hoping to keep him there for as long as he can.

As the holy man pulls away, the two share a potent, lasting gaze, hoping it will sustain the cruel passage of time.

“Goodnight, Tardif.”

“Hn, night.”

One final squeeze of a destitute hand before the reverent flagellant leaves him, watching bandaged legs ascend the church steps in all his shaggy robed glory, burning the ascetic sight into his eyes.

He waits until he sees the baroque doors open, the warm glow emanating from within, knowing Damian will be safe for the night and dammit doesn't the holy man look back to find Tardif still standing there at the bottom of the landing like a lovestruck fool.

They're too far apart to see the expression on the other’s face, but it doesn't matter, they both feel it welling in their hearts, the last brush of their fingers a constant looping thought inside his mind.