#and it took us FOREVER to realize that I had to choose an account on one side of my screen

[kiragecko]

Okay, with the new layout, something has broken the 'Dim Read Posts' feature. I think that all pages are being loaded multiple times, and therefor always count as read. Have to keep my mouse hovering over every post to keep it bright enough to read. (It also seems twice as dark as it was?)

I've turned off the extension in X-Kit Rewritten, but it hasn't helped. I vaguely remember Tumblr offering me the same feature, but I can't find it in any of my settings.

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I'm also having to click the home button twice before it will actually go to the top of my dash instead of just the top of the page. And it can take a long time - I'll just have an empty dash with the 'Next' button until it eventually flickers and loads some posts.

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My hands jitter (and wander) a lot, and keeping them steady on a post so I can read it isn't consistent. And the posts shifting colour as I scroll is giving me (more) headaches

Anyone know if this is a Firefox thing? A Tumblr thing? An X-Kit thing? An addblock thing? Etc? Or how to fix it?

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, graphic depictions of violence, explicit smut (MDNI), little bit of sub!joel in this one, jealous/possessive smut, graphic descriptions of and references to SA - please proceed with caution if this is a trigger for you

Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

You could feel Joel’s eyes burning a hole in your back as you followed the guards down the hallway to a common room area. After realizing Joel’s ex-fiancée was conveniently one of the leaders in this community, you had shut down and refused to look at him. You knew it was irrational. How could it be his fault? It just set your teeth on edge, especially considering the reservations you were already having about this place. The man with the dark hair and thick eyebrows jutted his chin out towards Joel and pointed in the direction of the men’s restroom.

“You go in there, we need to check you over for bites,” Joel hesitated, looking back at you, but you continued to stare straight ahead. “It’s standard procedure, we do it for all new intakes. It keeps us safe, don’t take it personally.” Joel took a step towards you, trying to catch your gaze but you were fixated on your feet.

“You gonna be alright for a minute?” he murmured to you.

“Mhm,” you gave a quick nod, eyes still cast down, trying to quell your irritation.

He paused, then glanced around at the group of people waiting for him. He grumbled and turned to enter the restroom, the dark-haired man following. Amy slinked up next to you and placed her hand lightly on your shoulder. It took everything you had not to shrug her hand off as you raised your eyes to look at her. By all accounts, she was pretty. She had bright blue eyes and blonde hair, although you noticed it was a few shades darker than the picture you had seen in Joel's apartment. You could see she was closer to Joel's age by the fine wrinkles developing around her eyes and mouth. She tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it just came off as insincere.

"You can follow me in here," she motioned towards the women's restroom. "I'll look you over real quick and we can get you something to eat." Reluctantly, you followed her into the women's room. You set your backpack down against the wall and took your jacket off before looking to her for direction. She was regarding you carefully with a curious smile.

"You don't talk much," she said, motioning for you to take your shirt off. You began to unbutton your flannel and shrugged at her comment, still choosing not to speak. You took the flannel off and hung it over your crossed arms, feeling exposed in your bra in front of Joel's ex. She walked around you slowly and lifted each of your arms to get a good look at your skin. Amy motioned for you to drop your jeans, so you tugged the flannel back over your arms, leaving it unbuttoned, and reached down to pull the denim off your legs. She did the same thing, walked around slowly and inspected you closely, even tugging on the back of your underwear to check your ass before snapping the band back. You were facing the door with only your shirt partially covering you when you heard a sharp knock.

"Come in," Amy called, still looking you over. You turned to her in surprise, clutching your flannel shut to preserve your dignity before the skinny redhead entered the room, his eyes raking up and down your body before clearing his throat to address Amy.

"The man's clear, what do you want us to do with him?" he asked.

"Let's take them to the cafeteria and get them something to eat before we assign them rooms, thanks Ian." she replied, then motioned for you to put your jeans back on. You awkwardly bent over to pull your legs through as quickly as possible, but Ian had already left. You hastily buttoned up your flannel before shooting her a glare, and she smirked in response. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"We only need one room, thanks," you said, not letting your gaze waver. It seemed that you confirmed for her what she already suspected, giving you a tight smile and a nod before ushering you back into the common room. Joel was waiting anxiously against the wall for you to emerge, pushing himself off to come over to you, but you kept up the attitude, still refusing to look him in the eye.

Ian, thick eyebrows, and Amy led you both down another floor and through a hallway before reaching a large cafeteria where clusters of people sat at various tables. All eyes turned towards you as you walked in, regarding you curiously. You kept your eyes straight ahead as you were led to a table and invited to sit. Joel sat next to you on one side of the table while Amy chose to sit directly across from him. Ian went to get you each a bowl of soup and thick eyebrows stood guard behind Amy.

"It's been a long time, Joel. How did you get here?" she asked him, completely ignoring you.

"Walked," he said curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded, picking up on his tone.

"And Tommy?" she said softly, biting her lip. You tried you best to keep from rolling your eyes. You didn't appreciate the sweet tone she was taking with him. Maybe you were just paranoid, maybe she was just being nice. But your gut was telling you otherwise.

"Don't know," he said gruffly, trying to avoid her eyes by looking around the room. He noticed the skinny red-haired guy waiting for your food and standing with a big brute of a man in the corner of the room, eyeing you up closely. He glanced over at you, unaware of the men staring at you. He knew you were pissed, but you could at least look at him. He clenched his teeth when he looked back at the men who were very obviously leering in your direction now and whispering to each other. He possessively tucked his arm over your shoulders, feeling you tense up under his touch. The men slid their gaze over to Joel now, who raised his eyebrows at them expectantly. They grinned at each other and shook their heads, turning away and focusing on the food counter.

You finally looked in his direction now, giving him a confused look. The motion was not lost on Amy as she stared at Joel's arm around you for a second too long before breaking away and looking back at him, forcing a smile.

"Well, I'm so glad you are safe and that you made it here. We have a community of about 60 people so far, most of us strangers. We all pitch in where we can, so we will be assigning some work to you both. And I know what you're thinking," she said, holding up her hand, "but it's not like the QZs. We don't ration people's food or supplies. Our long-term plan is to find a safe area away from the city where we can make a home." She continued to look directly at Joel the whole time she spoke, and it was getting on your nerves. You knew it shouldn't, you knew he loved you, but you couldn't help it. You cleared your throat loudly, finally dragging her gaze from Joel and onto you.

"What kind of work?" you asked, and you felt Joel's hand squeeze your shoulder slightly.

"Patrols, guard duty, cooking, cleaning, laundry... that sort of thing. Whatever needs to be done, we all take turns and do our part." At that, she narrowed your eyes to you, as if there was a double meaning to her words that you couldn't decipher.

"That's fine, we understand. We'll help out." Joel said, drawing Amy's attention back towards him. She gave him a warm smile.

"Perfect. And here's your food," she said, looking over your shoulder as Ian placed bowls in front of you both. "I'll let you two have some privacy, when you're all set, I'll be over there," she pointed to a table that you now noticed sat the four other leaders you briefly met earlier. "And then I'll show you to your room." She emphasized the last word and glanced quickly at you before standing up and walking over to the other table, followed closely by Ian.

You gulped and looked down at your soup, suddenly feeling nauseous. Something about what Amy said didn't sit right with you but you couldn't put your finger on it. You lazily stirred the soup and took a few small sips before giving up and leaning back in your chair. Joel noticed your lack of appetite and brought his hand down to squeeze your knee.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I didn't know."

You scoffed and folded your arms across your chest, looking at a fixed point on the wall.

"You sure about that?" You asked coldly. He dropped the spoon in his bowl before glancing at you sideways.

"How the fuck would I know?" he said lowly, trying to make sure he wasn't overheard. You shook your head, not wanting to get into an argument.

"You done yet? I'm tired, I need to get some sleep." You pushed your chair back with your legs and strode over to the leader's table, knocking firmly on the end to get their attention. Amy's eyes shot up to you after breaking off a quiet conversation with one of the men.

"Ready," you said, as you felt Joel come up beside you. She nodded and stood.

"Ok, follow me. I had Ian take your backpacks to your room already." She motioned for you both to follow her and you turned on your heel to do just that, Joel following behind you quietly.

Amy led you both up to the third floor. About halfway down, she stopped and unlocked a door, then gave the key to Joel before pushing the door open. The dorm was small, as expected, with two twin beds on either side of the room. You noticed a small bathroom with only a sink and toilet in the corner and your backpacks on the end of the beds.

“You two probably had a long journey, why don’t you get some rest. There are some toiletries in the bathroom. Breakfast starts at 7 in the morning. I’ll find you in the cafeteria and give you your work assignments once leadership decides,” she looked directly at Joel when she added, “please let me know if you need anything.” Then she excused herself, softly shutting the door behind her. You rolled your eyes and collapsed on the bed with your backpack on it, throwing your arm over your face.

“Alright, lemme have it,” Joel said roughly, tossing his backpack on the floor and sitting on the other bed. “It’s my fault. We walked halfway across the country to a city I had no idea she even lived in on the off chance we would find her, right?” He glared at you, fuming, but you just laid there with your arm covering your eyes. “C’mon already, tell me how this is my fault.”

“Did you know that was her voice on the radio?” you asked quietly, your arm still draped over your face.

“Did I – what?!” he exclaimed, standing up. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? ‘Course not! I don’t know if that even was her recording!” You shook your head and rubbed the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Look at me,” he demanded, but you shook your head again. You just wanted to sleep and forget this ever happened. You wanted to wake up back at the white house with blue shutters, or even on the forest floor at this point. He walked to your bed to stand over you and noticed a tear trickling down the side of your face, heading towards your ear. “Sweetheart,” he began, softer this time, but you stopped him. You sat up and crawled backwards, so your back was against the headboard, putting more space between the two of you.

“I don’t like it here,” you told him flat out, wiping at the stray tear. “There’s something off, I can’t put my finger on it, but the way she looked at me when she talked about everyone doing their part… I don’t like it.” He snorted and sat down at the end of your bed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“You gotta give it a chance. We just got here a few hours ago. Give it a week,” he said, dropping his hand and looking into your eyes. You could see the desperation behind his gaze as he rubbed absentmindedly at his chest. “Give it a week, and if you still don’t like it, we’ll go.” You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue with him. It was a good compromise, so you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

“Fine,” you whispered, your chin dropping to your chest. He grinned, leaning forward to pull you in for a kiss that you barely reciprocated. He got up to unpack some of his things while you turned on your side and pulled the blanket over you, eager to get some sleep.

The next morning, you and Joel sat together at a table eating a breakfast of oatmeal, some kind of animal meat you couldn’t name, berries, and coffee. You were starving since you decided to be dramatic and skip dinner yesterday, so you barely noticed when Amy and the others walked in to sit down at their table, her eyes immediately traveling over to Joel and gave him a flirty wave. He nodded in her direction and focused back on his food, muttering something under his breath.

“What?” you asked, popping the last of your berries into your mouth. He sighed and leaned in a little closer.

“She’s here,” was all he said, and you could feel your body tense up. You knew you had to see her again today, but you couldn’t control your reaction. You drank the last of your coffee as she glided over to your table, giving Joel a huge grin, and once again pretending you didn’t exist.

“Good morning! I hope you slept alright,” she said brightly. Joel grunted and nodded.

“We slept fine, thanks,” he replied, his hand drifting to your knee under the table. You warmed a bit at the touch, knowing he was trying to make you comfortable.

“I have your work assignments for the week. Joel, you’re on guard duty, second shift,” she winked at him before whispering, “I pulled some strings, usually newcomers have to take third shift,” then she raised her voice back up to a normal level before addressing you for the first time. “You’re on kitchen duty with Maryanne. She’s a sweetheart, she’s excited for the extra help. You’re scheduled from 10am to 7pm today.” She handed out your assignments written out on index cards, confirming the times and the locations. You were getting sick of her subtle flirting, the wink and the whisper finally tipping you over the edge. You hooked your leg over the top of Joel’s and leaned forward, draping your arm over his shoulders, pretending like she wasn’t even there.

“Baby, isn’t this so great? Our work shifts practically overlap, we’ll be able to be together at night,” you trailed a finger over his shoulder as he shot you a surprised look. He had only heard you call him that when you were having sex, and as if you had conditioned him, his cock jumped in his pants when he heard the affectionate nickname. He cleared his throat and looked back and forth between you and Amy, who tried to hide her displeasure with a fake smile.

“Yeah, it’s good, sweetheart,” he took the cards and looked back up at Amy. “Thanks, I’ll be seein’ ya at 2.” She nodded curtly and swiveled around to head back to her table. Joel chuckled under his breath as he rubbed the inside of your thigh.

“Did that make you feel good?” he teased, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee.

“Oh, I can think of something that feels better,” you said, making him sputter into his mug. He wiped his mouth and looked at you, eyes wide and eyebrows raised, and you couldn’t contain your smirk. He cleared his throat and rested his chin in his hand, looking around the room, as he tried to wait out the erection he had under the table.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured, unable to keep the grin from his face as he slid your leg off his lap.  You grinned at him, pleased at his reaction.

“We have a few hours to kill, you know,” you whispered as you got up from the table and dumped your dishes into the empty bin by the garbage, only meeting his eyes once before you exited the cafeteria and headed back to your room.

He was only a few minutes behind you after you left, slamming the door and snatching your face in his grip, pulling you close and hungrily exploring your mouth. You moaned into him, your tongue flicking at his teeth sloppily as you both hurriedly undressed each other.  Joel walked you backwards towards your bed, but at the last minute you twisted around and pushed him back. He flopped down onto the mattress, flinging his arms behind him for support as he gazed up at you, panting for air. Your pants had already been undone and pushed down, but you pulled them the rest of the way off as he did the same. You flung your t-shirt over your head and stood before him in just your bra and underwear. He was in the process of removing his shirt when he paused to drink you in, then whipped it over his head to the corner of the room.  He reached out to grab your waist, but you took a step back and shook your finger from side to side.

“Be patient,” you demanded, and you watched his gaze instantly darken at your tone. He slowly brought his hand back and instead palmed his cock through his boxers, watching you spin around and slowly unhook your bra. You shot a sly glance over your shoulder at him as you wiggled out of it and tossed it to the side. His lips were parted and flushed as he stared at your back, eagerly waiting for you to turn around. When you did, you kept your hand over your breasts, playfully batting his hand away when he reached out.

“Take them off,” he told you hoarsely, his eyes burning into you. You tsked at him and shook your head, making him groan, but he remained seated on the bed. You took a small step forward and lifted your other hand out to tip his chin up.

“I’m going to be the one in charge today, is that clear?” you asked him with a raised eyebrow. He nodded feverishly, his jaw slack.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, and you smiled at the term. You rewarded him by planting a quick kiss on his lips before pulling back.

“Good boy,” you muttered, dropping your hand from your tits and finally revealing yourself to him. His body jumped in response, but he forced himself to remain seated, looking back and forth between you and your breasts, silently pleading to allow him to touch you. You stepped forward and pushed him back, making him turn his body so his head was resting against the pillow. You lifted your leg and straddled him, bringing his hands up to grip your waist. He groaned and began to roll his hips into yours, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him. He let out a puff of air as he clenched his teeth, bringing his hips down to rest on the bed.

You hummed as you traced a finger down his neck and over his broad chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Tell me, Joel," you began casually, as your finger slowed near his boxers. "Do you want to fuck me?"

He let out a rush of air from his lungs he didn't realize he was holding, nodding as his grip on your waist tightened.

"Yes," he choked out, "yes, I want to fuck you."

You smiled as your fingernail gently scraped back and forth along the top of his pubic hair, the sensation making him shiver.

"And what about her?" you asked him as your finger stilled. "Do you want to fuck her?"

He stared at you for a moment, finally realizing where this shift was coming from. You were jealous. Jealous of Amy, of all people, who ripped his heart out and didn't think twice. If only you knew the whole story.

"No," he said firmly, making sure you were looking him in the eye. "Only you. I'm so deeply in love with you that it fuckin' hurts."

He could tell that pleased you by the way your eyes lit up, but you refused to smile and give yourself away. Instead, you hummed and leaned your head to the side, gently grinding yourself onto his cock. His eyes fluttered closed as he focused on not reciprocating for fear of losing the contact if he did so without permission. He groaned quietly when he felt your folds slip over his cock through the cloth, desperate to rip both your underwear off and bury himself inside you.

"You like that, baby?" you moaned as your pace picked up speed.

"Yes," he gasped, his eyes snapping open. "I want you so fuckin' bad, please," he begged. You smiled down at him sweetly but then you slid off his hips towards the end of the bed. He found himself almost reaching out to pull you back up when he realized you were yanking down his boxers, tossing them on the ground before slowly crawling up the bed on all fours towards him, your pointed nipples grazing against his legs. He reached out to grab your shoulders and pull you up to his mouth, but he stopped himself, his hands hovering in the air, waiting for permission. You noticed his restraint, your eyes bouncing back and forth between his hands suspended in the air. You paused when you reached his stomach, giving him a smile before dipping your head down and running your tongue leisurely up the length of his cock, flicking his slit with the tip of your tongue before pulling away.

He brought his hands up to his head and clutched his hair, his breathing labored. His eyes found yours right before you dipped back down to pull the tip of him into your mouth, pulling a deep groan from his chest. You wrapped your thumb and middle finger around his base to keep him still, and keeping your eyes on his face, you slowly brought your lips down further, inch by inch, until he touched the back of your throat. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and it made you smirk before slowly pulling back up and released him with a pop.

"Fuck," he gasped, his hands still clutching his hair, "fuck, that feels so good." You could feel your arousal ruining your underwear, the fabric becoming uncomfortable.

"Yeah?" you questioned before pulling the length of him back into your mouth, this time fisting his base in your hand as you bobbed up and down on him. You released him from your mouth but kept jerking him off as you spoke, spreading your saliva down the length of him.

"Did she ever fuck you this good?" you asked as he met your heated gaze. He shook his head wildly back and forth.

"No," his voice was strained, "never. No one's ever made me feel the way you do." You could hear the sentiment behind his words. He was trying to convey more than just a physical feeling, and you felt your chest flush with pride.

You quickly removed your hand and yanked your panties off, hovering over his hips and lining him up with your entrance. Before you pushed down, you brought your eyes up to meet his once more. His chest was heaving, his hands fisted at his sides, and his gaze focused solely on you. You could see in that moment that your jealousy was meaningless. Regardless of what Amy felt, you finally realized you had Joel wrapped around your finger, and nothing else mattered.

"Where do you want to touch me?" you asked him quietly, still not allowing him to enter you.

"Everywhere," he said instantly. You nodded your approval, and his hands flew up to your tits, massaging them gently between pinches of your nipples. You moaned and tipped your head back, your hands resting on the backs of his as you slowly sunk down on him. His hands froze as he focused entirely on the sensation, grunting when you finally bottomed out.

You gasped and brought your head forward to look at him.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of that feeling," you whispered. You bit your lip as he gently thrusted into you, testing to see if you would chastise him. You gave him a warning look, so he stopped and brought his hands down to grip the meaty part of your hips, his eyes glued to where you were connected. You planted your hands on his soft stomach, then lifting your hips up, started bouncing lightly up and down. He watched your breasts sway back and forth in front of him, hypnotized. Your eyes closed as you enjoyed the feeling of him sliding in and out, alternating between bouncing and rolling your hips. You could feel his fingers gripping you so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises, but the thought of him marking you just made you move faster, panting now at the effort.

You opened your eyes, looking down at his pained expression. His brow was furrowed and his jaw clenched tight as he stared up at the ceiling, focusing all his energy on remaining still and not slamming into you. You smirked, enjoying how difficult it was for him. You moved one of your hands off his stomach to cover one of his own, then pulled it forward so his thumb pressed against your clit. His eyes dragged from the ceiling back to your face, and immediately pressed small circles on your swollen bundle of nerves. You gasped and gripped his wrist, bouncing faster and leaning forward to hover over him.

"C'mon, sweetheart," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me have it, I wanna feel you." You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the pressure in your stomach build. Joel kept his hips pinned to the mattress as you used him to get yourself off, rolling your hips and grinding down on him as his thumb worked your clit in circles, then side to side until you cried out his name, frozen for a moment as your release washed over you, then collapsed on his chest, burying your face in his neck.

You rode out your orgasm with tiny thrusts on top of him. His thumb slowed until he sensed your overstimulation and pulled it away to rest on your hip. You nipped on his neck, leaving a couple red marks on his collarbone. His muscles and tendons were pulled taught and his skin shined with sweat, waiting for you to give him what he wanted.

"Oh," you whispered, feigning innocence. "Did you want to come, too?"

He growled in response, and you felt his cock twitch inside you. You hummed and pushed yourself back up to look him in the eye.

"I didn't hear you," you said. His eyes were dark, and he stared at you before relenting.

"Yes," he whispered. "Please."

You smiled and pressed your lips against his, then murmured against his mouth, "Go ahead."

Like a dam that broke, his hips snapped up into you with a grunt, his pace relentless as he pounded into your sore cunt, gripping your hips and holding you down as he chased his high. You cried out, his thrusts a little painful, but you knew it wouldn't be much longer as his movements became sloppy and he gasped for air. It wasn't long before he groaned your name and yanked your hips straight up in the air, pulling himself out, then brought you back down to pin his slick cock between you both, spilling his release all over his stomach.

"Bad girl," he gasped, making you laugh.

"I don't remember hearing you complain," you teased and gave him a quick peck on the mouth before you stood up to find a rag from your backpack, cleaning you both up and then sliding next to him on the small bed. Joel drew small circles on your back as he struggled to catch his breath. When you moved to stand, he grabbed your arm and looked at you questioningly.

"I have work soon," you explained, "and now I need to shower again." He shook his head and brought your hand to his face, flipping it over and planting a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

"I want you to smell me on you all day," he said lowly and shot you a wink. You blushed, feeling a familiar stir in your lower abdomen.

"Well, in that case, I guess I have a few more minutes to spare," you said, climbing back into the bed, draping your arm over his chest.

Maryanne was very sweet. She was probably in her early 40s, with curly brown hair and thin lips. She seemed very grateful to have the help as she showed you around the kitchen. Another girl, Chloe, was mixing something for lunch in a large bowl while you learned the ropes from Maryanne. She was just explaining to you that the source of their fresh vegetables was from the college campus where they had a greenhouse when the dark-haired guard entered the room. He sent you both a glance and you felt Maryanne stiffen next to you. He made his way to Chloe, touching her elbow and whispered something in her ear. She hung her head and dropped what she was doing as he led her out the door. You looked to Maryanne for an explanation.

"That's Keith. Some of the guards come in here and need our help with other things," she was choosing her words very carefully and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"What kind of 'help'?" you pressed, but she just shook her head and gave you a forced smile.

"It's not a big deal, dear. We all just take turns helping out around here whenever needed," and with that, she returned to the bowl Chloe had abandoned.

You looked back at the door they had just exited, the pit in your stomach returning. You shook your head, telling yourself Joel was always nearby, that you didn't have anything to worry about.

Chloe returned about an hour later, her eyes cast down, avoiding your gaze. Maryanne asked if you wouldn't mind serving the food at the counter today, a task usually assigned to Chloe. You assured her it was fine, shooting one more glance over your shoulder before heading to the counter.

All your worries disappeared when you looked up and saw Joel on the other side of the counter, a big smile on his face.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he leaned over to press a kiss on your lips. "How's it goin'?"

You briefly considered telling him your concerns, but you were already feeling guilty for complaining so much. He looked so much happier and at ease, so you just smiled and told him everything was fine.

Later that night, you stayed awake until he came back around 11pm from his first shift, looking exhausted. He flopped down on his bed and turned his head towards you.

"I missed you," he said, giving you a smile. You smiled back and walked over to give him a kiss, cradling his jaw in your hand.

"How'd it go?" you asked, turning to sit on your bed a few feet away. He sighed.

"Good. Fine. Just mostly walkin' and patrolin' around. Lots of stairs. You'd think I'd be used to the exercise by now," he replied.

"Who did you work with?" you asked, hoping Amy wasn't involved.

"Keith, that guy who brought us in the other day," and you bristled at his name. You opened your mouth to tell him about Chloe, but snapped it shut when you saw he was beginning to fall asleep. You pulled your blanket over you and turned out the light, once again pushing your worries from your mind for another day. You promised him a week, and you were going to see it through.

It was your third day in the cafeteria with Maryanne and Chloe. Chloe seemed in better spirits today, joking around with you as you chopped vegetables as Maryanne was manning the stove, stirring some venison in a big frying pan. You were beginning to feel at ease again, giving Joel a quick kiss after dinner was served before he had to get back to work. You were bringing dirty pans into the kitchen, then froze when you saw Keith leaning against the wall. Your eyes flicked to Chloe. Her head was down, focusing intently on scrubbing a serving spoon. You pushed yourself forward and put the pans in the sink, about to pick up a sponge when you felt his hand on your shoulder.

"Come with me," was all he said. You tried to hide the tremor in your hands. You glanced back at Chloe, but she was avoiding your gaze. You turned to look at him, gripping the edge of the sink so your hands would be steady.

"What for?" you asked, trying to keep the frown from your face.

"I got some work for you," he said. You exhaled shakily as you followed him out of the kitchen and into a hallway. You noticed the corridor was empty and silent as you whipped your head around to try to locate another person. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Something was wrong.

He opened a door and motioned for you to enter. You hesitated, but then saw the gun slung over his back, and forced yourself to walk through the door. You were confused when the light flicked on and you saw it was a broom closet. You turned around to question him when Keith shut the door firmly behind him and immediately wrapped his arms around you, pushing his open mouth on yours, his tongue demanding entry. You shoved him back as hard as you could, but he only stumbled back half a step.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" you exclaimed, backing up and hitting a wall.

"Didn't the girls tell you?" he said, advancing on you again. "I know Amy must've told you," and he grabbed you again, forcing your hand to rub against the growing erection in his pants. You pushed him back again and tore your hand away, your wrist burning after escaping his grasp.

"There's a misunderstanding, I'm with Joel, I'm not interested," you tried to make a move for the door, but he blocked you.

"There's no misunderstanding. This is what all the women do. We protect you, and you give us what we want." He was growing impatient now as he lunged forward, and you let out a scream. He wrapped a hand around your neck, cutting off your voice and forcing your face to look up at him.

"Shut the fuck up," he growled as he fumbled with your jeans. You struggled for air as tears streamed down your face. No, no, no, no.

"Stop!" you gasped, your vision growing fuzzy. He shoved his hand down the front of your jeans and inserted two fingers inside you, making you writhe and claw at his face with every ounce of energy you had.

"Knock it off and I'll let go," he whispered angrily. "If you play nice, this goes a lot easier." Desperate to get his hand off your throat, you nodded. He released your neck and pulled his fingers from your pants, and you bent over to cough, tears and snot streaming down your face and onto the floor.

"Alright, enough. Get up, hands on the wall," he demanded. You must have moved too slow because he yanked you up by the shoulders and whipped you around, but not before you saw the large hunting knife on his right hip. He was pulling your jeans and underwear down around your ankles, and then slid his hand from behind to push his fingers back inside you. You stifled a cry at the intrusion.

"That's it, see? Isn't that better? Fuck," he grunted, pulling his fingers back out to fumble with his belt. You jerked your hand back and grabbed the knife from his hip, jabbing it into his side twice. He let out a surprised yell and fell to the floor, clutching his ribs. You frantically pulled your jeans back up, and still gripping the knife, ran out the door and up the stairs to your dorm, slamming the door behind you.

Joel knocked on the door, entering when he heard Amy's response from the other side. He walked in and glanced around, noticing he was alone with her for the first time. He kept the door ajar and stood as close to the wall as possible.

"What'dya need?" he asked, keeping his eyes pinned on the wall behind her.

"Why don't you sit down, Joel?" Amy replied, giving him a sweet smile from the round table in the middle of the room. There was a large map spread out over the top with a few pencils next to it. He hesitated before deciding to enter the room further, sitting down in the chair across from her. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful for being taken in, but he didn't want to feed into your jealousy, either. She looked at him warmly from across the table.

"You look good, Joel," she said. He grunted and shifted his eyes down to the map.

"What'dya need'?" he repeated, "Ian told me you needed help up here liftin' somethin'." Amy leaned forward across the table and reached her hand out to him. He just stared at it, his hands remaining in his lap.

"Do you think it's fate?" she asked, "what are the chances we would meet again?"

"No," he replied gruffly, glaring at her, "just real dumb luck."

Amy stood from the table, trailing her fingers around the edge before coming to a halt next to him.

"How are you fitting in here, Joel?" she asked, her fingers inching toward him. "Is the work detail ok?"

"Yep," he nodded, trying to lean away. "I'm more tired than I expected but I guess that comes with age."

"Can I help you with anything? Anything to help you relax?" she murmured, her hand running up his arm now. He shuddered and rolled his shoulder to push her hand away.

"No, I'm fine. I should be gettin' back," he frowned, standing up to put some distance between them, but Amy reached her hand out and grabbed his wrist.

"You know, Dave died the very first day," she said.

"I'm sure you'll understand if I don't feel bad about that," he said, pulling his arm back.

"I know. I'm so sorry for what I did to you, Joel. You deserved better than that," she stepped closer and ducked down to catch his eye, batting her lashes at him. "Will you let me make it up to you?" She reached an arm out and palmed him through his jeans. He jumped backwards and swatted her hand away.

"You know I'm spoken for, what the hell are you thinkin'?" he exclaimed, taking another step back. He scowled at Amy when she didn’t reply, his eyes burning and jaw clenched. "You were right, I deserve better, and I got it."

"Oh, Joel, it's not that big of a deal, relax," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's just how it is here. Us girls understand that, don't worry," she cooed, reaching out to him again but he took a big step backwards.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he glowered, fists clenched at his sides.

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend? She understands what's expected, from what I can tell," she smirked.

"What?" Joel asked, deathly quiet.

"The girls here understand there's a price that comes with safety. She's been giving you what you needed in exchange for protection, right?" Amy looked at Joel, confusion written all over her face, as if it were so obvious. He stared at her, shocked at what she was saying.

"You're tellin' me all these men here are havin' their way with the women, against their will?" His eyes narrowed at her, and she scoffed.

"Oh, come on! They all understand! It's not ideal but it's better than getting ripped apart by those... those things!" she exclaimed, getting heated and waving her arms. "You don't think that girl's been sleeping with you without any ulterior motive?"

"Fuck you, you don't know shit about her," Joel swiveled around and swung the door open. He stormed down the hallway to head back to his post when she called after him.

"I might not know her, but I'm willing to bet some of the guys here do!"

As he pounded down the steps, fuming, he had a sudden realization. If the men here are used to taking advantage of all the women, then it was only a matter of time before they approached you. His chest squeezed as he made his way up the stairs two at a time, running to your room as he glanced at the time. It was just past 7, you might be back by now. He ran down the hall when he saw the light on under the door, slamming it open.

You were hovered over your backpack, frantically shoving all of your clothes and belongings into it, struggling to make them all fit. Your hair was a mess and your clothes disheveled You swung around wildly when you heard the door whip open. You had a huge knife covered in blood in one hand as you stumbled backwards, your face streaked with tears.

"It's me, hey, hey, hey! Calm down, what the fuck happened? Whose blood is this?" He knelt down in front of you and you flinched, tucking your knees into your chest, your grip tight around the handle of the knife. You rocked back and forth and shook your head as fresh tears fell from your eyes. Then he saw the marks on your neck.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer. He was too late, he was too late.

"H-he tried," you sobbed, covering your face with your free hand. "He t-tried- I can't- I n-need to leave," you scrambled up and skirted away from his outstretched hands, going back to furiously packing your bag. You weren't sure what you would do for weapons but at least you had the knife.

"Stop for a minute, will ya?" he said sternly, and again you flinched but you stopped, staring down at the bed and avoiding his gaze.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asked, softer now. You gave a quick nod and kept your eyes pinned to the bed. You could sense his body stiffen beside you, but he remained patient.

"Where did they hurt you?" he finally managed to croak out, bracing himself for the answer. You bit your lip so hard you thought you drew blood as hot tears silently streamed down your face.

You couldn't bring yourself to say the words. Couldn't grapple with what happened. All you knew was you needed to get out, get far away from here before his body was found.

"I think you know where," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut.

Joel's vision went blurry and he fell to his knees on the floor, clutching his chest. His heart was racing and he felt like he couldn't breathe. His hand shook as he reached out to the mattress to hold himself up, his vision narrowing as he gasped for air.

"Joel?" you said, worry laced in your voice. But he hardly heard you. All he could hear was buzzing and the rapid pumping of his heart. He couldn't believe he let this happen. You told him you didn't want to come here, you told him you had a bad feeling, and he didn't listen. This was all his fault. He left you alone after he promised not to. His one job was to keep you safe, and he failed. How could he not see? How was he so blind? You trusted him, and he led you right into the lion's den.

And he was going to kill them all.

"Joel?!" he heard you say, more panicky now. "Joel, please, get up. Please!" His vision cleared and his heart beat slowed a fraction, his chest eased with the realization of what he had to do to fix it.

"Who?" he growled, and you froze, his tone scaring you.

"It doesn't matter. I took care of it. We need to go now, before they find out. Joel!" You called his name as he stood up and headed to the door.

"I'm going to kill every last one of them," he said, his hand on the doorknob.

"Joel, please," you whimpered, a sob rattling in your chest. "Don't leave me. Please, Joel." He sighed and dropped his head, his hand falling from the door. Here he was about to make another stupid mistake. You fucking idiot. Of course she can't be left alone.

He turned back around to you. You were standing next to the bed, your arms wrapped limply around yourself, your eyes bloodshot, lips and nose beet red from crying.

"Did you kill him?" He needed to know. He needed to be sure the man you did this was dead, or he would never be able to move on.

"I'm pretty sure, I didn't stick around, but I stabbed him twice in the ribs, there was a lot of blood, I guess..." you trailed off, unsure now if he was dead or not.

"Alright, let's get our shit and we are walkin' out of here together. I know where our weapons are, we can grab 'em on the way, hurry up." He went to the bathroom and grabbed what little items you both had, stuffing them into his bag along with a few shirts he had folded in a dresser. They didn't bother to confiscate your food, so you were lucky in that regard. He tugged his jacket on and tossed yours on your bed. Once you were both ready to go, he led you out into the hall without a second glance back.

On the main floor he headed towards a small office in the corner, the makeshift armory where all the weapons were locked up for patrol. He tugged your hand in that direction, only pausing when you passed by the broom closet. You winced and turned away at the blood that was seeping out from under the door. He could feel his chest tighten again, but he took two deep breaths, and he felt the tension easing.

"Stay here," he murmured to you. You clutched at him wildly, scared to be left alone. He firmly placed his hands on your upper arms, and crouched down to your level so he could look you in the eye.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, sweetheart. I'm right here. I'm not gonna let anythin' bad happen to you," he inwardly cringed, thinking he already let so many bad things happen to you, but you just nodded, swiping away the tears that fell down your cheeks.

"Give me the knife," he said, and you handed it over, rubbing the heels of your hands deep into your eyes.

Joel swung the door open and saw Keith slumped against the wall, bleeding out. His face was the color of ash, and his eyes were barely open. Joel squatted down in front of him and tapped under his chin.

"Look at me," he said darkly. Keith's eyes fluttered before focusing. When he realized it was Joel, he smirked, and Joel felt his blood run hot.

"Hey, man, I don't blame you," Keith coughed, blood dripping from his mouth. "I don't blame you for keeping her to yourself." Joel ground his teeth and his nostrils flared. "I just... I just wish I got more than a couple fingers in her." Keith gasped out the last words, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Joel reached forward and picked up Keith's right hand, stained with blood.

"These fingers?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Before he had a chance to respond, Joel flattened Keith's hand on the ground and cut off his pointer and middle finger, quickly covering his mouth when he howled and writhed in pain. Blood spurted everywhere as Keith desperately tried to clutch at his new wounds, but it was no use. Joel could tell the man was losing too much blood. Even if anyone found him, they wouldn't be able to save him. He stood up and watched as Keith's eyes lost what little light was left, then his ragged breathing stopped, his eyes still open.

Joel turned and looked up and down the hallway before focusing his gaze back on you. You clearly had heard the exchange, the room was not very big, but you didn't say anything. The urge to pull you into his arms and soak up all your pain was overwhelming, but he knew he needed to get to the armory and get you back to safety. Night had fallen outside, it was dark enough where you would be able to sneak away unnoticed.

After collecting all your weapons, plus some extra ammo, the two of you crouched by the exit. Joel tilted his watch so it shone in the moonlight, noting the time and trying to remember the patrol schedule.

"Alright, we should be fine. They are patrollin' the east side of the building. You ready?"

You nodded vehemently, and he cracked the door to take a peek, just in case he was wrong. He stepped out and swiveled around for a moment, knowing his presence outside the building wouldn't be abnormal at this time. He nodded to you, and you squeezed through the door before following him into the night, towards the cover of the forest.

Chapter Seventeen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

[in1-nutshell]

Bot Buddy the monoformer and Arcee finding out

SFW, platonic, some angst but there's a happy ending, Cybertronian/ Bot reader

TFP

One universal rule about Arcee’s, it is never easy to become friends with Arcee, at least in the beginning. She naturally has her guard up at all times meeting anyone new. She is slow to trust but fast to anger thanks to her short fuse.

As much as she would want to trust someone, most of the time they end up as a kebab. That being said, she doesn’t turn everyone away, it just takes some time for her to get used to them.

Now, Arcee has known Buddy for a bit, occasionally having a conversation with them or being assigned with them on scouting missions. She doesn’t know about Buddy being a monoformer right off the bat. Not that Buddy told her anyways. Buddy is very hesitant to tell most of their teammates about them being a monoformer. Buddy has only told a selected few about it. The reason that they don’t tell everyone is that they know that there is still some prejudice against monoformers out there. They also do not have the time to deal with that. They are fighting a war; they don’t need some bot on their backside going on about how much of a horrible their life choices were.

 It takes a few runs in with the Decepticons for Arcee to realize how often Buddy stays in their bi-pede mode instead of transforming. In fact, as far as Arcee has known Buddy, she had never seen Buddy transform before.

One mission Arcee decides to solve the mystery.

“What’s your altmode anyways? Never seen you transform before, there a reason for that?”-- Arcee

“I don’t have one.”--Buddy

“What?”--Arcee

“This is my one form Arcee. One, that’s it.”—Buddy

This response causes Arcee to freeze a bit finally realizing what Buddy meant.  She had heard of monoformers before and thought they were useless in a way. If you could transform, why give that up? Why just stay in one mode forever?

Buddy takes Arcee’s silence as disgust.

"I don't regret what I did Arcee. I didn't want to transform anyways. That's my personal business and I don't care what you or the Counsil back on Cybertron thinks as well. My T-cog, my decision."--Buddy

Arcee and Buddy didn’t talk much after that mission. After a few hours, Arcee beginning to understand most of Buddy’s points from the discussion earlier. She feel a bit accountable for Buddy being in such a foul mood for the rest of the week. She wants to talk about it but doesn’t know how to approach the conversation.

Eventually they do end up talking on another mission. There is some awkward tension in the air. Arcee decides now is the time to talk.

“…You know, you never let me answer what I thought about you being a monoformer.”--Arcee

“Your silence was enough. Now lets just get back to base.”--Buddy

“No not until you let me talk.”--Arcee

“Arcee standing in front of me isn’t going to work.”--Buddy

“Are you sure about that?”--Arcee

“…What is there to talk about?”--Buddy

“I… I wanted to apologize on how I took that. You’re a great bot, with or without a T-cog. Your just living the best version of your self. I know if you still don’t forgive me for—”--Arcee

“I’m going to stop you right there. Arcee you had me at the apology, we are good now.”--Buddy

“…Race you to the groundbirgde?”--Arcee

“Only if you play fair. No bikes allowed.”--Buddy

“Fair enough.”--Arcee

Arcee does ask some questions of what it is like to have only one mode and how they get around sometimes. Buddy is patient in answering the questions.

“If you could have to choose between flying or staying in the ground what would you chose?”--Arcee

“Probably the ground in a hypothetical situation, though I would mind flying.”—Buddy

Arcee is now on Buddy’s corner.

If Buddy is small enough or can mass displace enough and there is trouble Arcee has now become a getaway bike. Will and has throw servos at anyone who makes Buddy feel bad about being a monoformer. She does not tolerate this at all.

In return Buddy does their best to be by Arcee’s side, even when she says she doesn’t need it. She is grateful to have a friend as Buddy, not many friends like them are left in this world.

If Buddy is within a 50-mile radius near Arachnid, Arcee is activliy shoving them into the groundbridge. Buddy will not be dying on her watch.

“Arcee! We aren’t even close to her! Quit shoving so hard!”--Buddy

“Fat chance Buddy. Now move your behind into the bridge, we’re leaving!”--Arcee

[okodnol]

Answering Hazbin Hotel Questionnaire in Great Details

from nayla (@misfirerules) on twitter

☆ who’s your favorite character?

Alastor and Vaggie (one was instant and the other slowly grew on me and now i legit can't choose)

Alastor is a trickster with standards, he punches up, confronts bullies, but honestly he's just so cute i automatically forgive him any crimes. Bonus points for helping me realize being affectionate with friends doesn't ruin your bad boy persona, it shows you're secure in it. Don't redeem him it's demon cruelty!

Vaggie is a tragic reformed soldier who desperately tries to repent for her war crimes; the juxtaposition of regular tough attitude and complete guard dropping for Charlie endeared me to her a lot. 'Whatever it takes' came up and i was like oooowww~

Also this scene before the final battle where she tells other hotel residents to save themselves cause "We.. I can't protect you anymore". She CARES

The funny thing is that Vaggie and Alastor share that strong preference to only socialize with women (me too! i feel so seen!) but CAN'T STAND each other

☆ what’s your favorite song from the soundtrack?

Stayed Gone and Hell's Greatest Dad, obviously. I also composed the complete tier list (i feel SO BAD for placing It Starts with Sorry this low):

Stayed gone | Dad beats dad

You didn't know | Ready for this | Finale (big musical theatre ones)

Poison

Respectless | Out for love

Happy day in hell | Loser baby

Hell is forever | Whatever it takes

It starts with sorry

More than anything

Welcome to heaven

🎶 it will take time to cover your vast multitude of sins 🎶

If i were to take into account visuals, first place would be either Loser Baby or Poison

☆ who are your otps?

I don't have a strong preference, but Charlie and Vaggie check too many of my personal boxes:

working on a project together

back-to-back fighting scene

picking a woman from a garbage dump

and nursing her back to health

DRAMA of one being another's lifeline

and never using it as leverage ever

fierce protectiveness goes both ways

casual pda

Wanted to do a full diagram and it turned out i'm so much more invested in friendship dynamics i need a separate chart for them

(what will be friendship categories? mentor/student, making each other better/worse, bonding over unique exp; we as a society should develop this concept)

As you can see i was kin assigned Lucifer and took it to heart lol

☆ who’s your least favorite character?

I don't care that much about Adam and Lute, actually

☆ are there any ships you hate?

I have an irrational personal vendetta against Alastor x Lucifer; i enjoy a good fan work, but the concept itself pisses me off; like, there's a painful power disbalance and zero positive interactions in canon

Adam does not deserve to be shipped with neither Lucifer nor Lilith. Lute kinda deserves him, but i prefer them as comrades

☆ least favorite song?

I don't feel much for Welcome to Heaven

☆ what made you watch hazbin hotel?

I think it was impossible not to watch it at the time, and of course i did, i adore this classic DeviantArt edgy lanky angular over-the-top style

☆ what made you love the show?

aesthetic really clicked with me

groundbreaking animation

lots of musical numbers

lovable characters

mlm & wlw representation

deconstruction of religion

you can tell VA's and artists had fun working on it

it's an inspiring indi-project success story

If we're talking about the animation specifically:

the character and camera movements are full of energy and satisfying to watch

characterization through body language

complex emotions

exciting action

interesting shots

you also can rewatch scenes multiple times cause characters on the background are doing stuff too

creative coloring and lighting

everyone is SO PRETTY

upturned eyes, sharp features and teeth they seemingly had to invent a new lip-sync technic for

☆ how long have you been a fan of hazbin hotel?

After i watched the pilot it took me a while to start Helluva Boss, but we binged it with a friend few years ago and i was really invested in this universe since then

☆ what’s your overall opinion on the show?

Innovative industry-changing trendsetting project we do not appreciate enough yet as a society. As a person who loves musicals, animated music videos, action, fighting and dancing, i was finally fed~

It's a crime it wasn't given more episodes; it's so tightly packed that even if i have some issues with pacing and priorities, i can't imagine HOW it can be rearranged without loosing important elements that are there already. I also firmly believe that fast story is better than less story so i'm against "just cut stuff out" approach

☆ if you could remove anything or someone from hazbin, what would it be?

This one scene where sir Pentious got dragged into a sex room as a joke 😑

☆ do you have any theories? If so what is it?

— The reason you end up in Heaven or Hell is that deep inside you're sure you deserve to go to Heaven or Hell (stole this idea from tumblr). That's how Adam ended up where he did. And sir Pentious unlocked a new mechanic cause he was exposed to the idea of redemption by Charlie (my 5 cents)

— There're more former exorcists in Hell besides Vaggie, and Carmilla saw them

— Rosie will teach Charlie how she made Cannibal town that nice of a place

— Alastor killed the most cruel and ruthless overlords, that's why the more decent ones, like Zestial / Carmilla / Rosie accepted him into the club (fandom commonplace)

— Alastor didn't kill Husk but kept his soul cause Husk wasn't that bad of a person in his overlord days and Alastor actually likes having him around

— Alastor doesn't own Nifty's soul

— Nifty is actually crazy powerful, she just wasn't properly motivated to unleash it on anyone yet

— Angel sold his sould to Valentino not out of desperation but cause he was manipulated into thinking that was a good idea somehow (he put a heart in his contract signature, also not my theory)

— both Angel and Husk will get their souls back one way or another

☆ opinions on the Vees?

Velvette is the coolest V. Vox is very relatable cause he's so done and just wants to do his job in peace and he still can't cyberbully to save his life. Valentino is a great reminder that your life can be ruined by an IDIOT which adds an insult to injury

I was dead sure Vox and Valentino are married. I hate the fact that i enjoy Valentino's dynamic with other Vees that much

I know and love Vox and Velvette's VAs from their Broadway performances as Marvin from Falsettos, Helene from Great Comet and Persephone from Hadestown

☆ thoughts on adam?

Adam can die in a fire, the genocidal maniac. He's much MUCH worse than Valentino, there's even no comparison, but i feel like fandom thinks the other way and it's wild. He was an extremely entertaining antagonist, but please don't return him in season 2

☆ if you could be best friends with any of the characters, who would it be?

I feel nerd kinship with sir Pentious but i don't think we'll be like Best Friends; i could see myself forming something like that with Vaggie if i happen to fall on her good side

☆ which scene from hazbin has permanently stuck to you?

~ hey! sssoo.. i see, the club has a sEx room! ..so i was thinking, maybeEe, you'd want to.. aa.. doo aa sExss with me 🕶️

Also the amount of serotonins Rosie and Alastor's duet gave me..

☆ who’s a character you want to see/see more in the upcoming seasons?

I need to know what happened to Eve and i need sir Pentious to be present and plot-relevant

Would be nice to meet Angel's sibling(s) and Lilith

Vaggie needs friends and support network outside of Charlie; hope Carmilla will keep mentoring her and Rosie keeps mentoring Charlie

Really excited for more Vox and Velvette

☆ what are your hazbin hotel hot takes?

The hatedom for this show is wildly disproportionate and uncalled for and it's genuinely breaks my heart cause i fear it may discourage other animators with personal projects. Hazbin deserved MUCH more praise and recognition

A good chunk of the critique can be boiled down to:

don't vibe with aesthetics so it's bad

story is not what i expected so it's bad

bad faith reading

evaluating animated show by static character sheets and random in-between screencaps

petty neatpicks

PLOT RELEVANT HOT ΤΑKES:

Sinners don't need redemptions, they need to be left alone by Heaven and work on making Hell a better place

Sir Pentious did not get a good ending, he lost all the friends he just made (it may turn out for the better but right now i'm sad)

Charlie did her best in Masquerade and as an untrained group therapist at the Hotel, cut the girl some slack, she does learn from mistakes

It's possible for Alastor to simultaneously like and help Hotel residents when he can and pursue his own agenda when he must

I think Mimzy is cute, sue me (we need more pathetic women representation, hope we'll get it in season 2)

Fandom plz stop with the infantilization of Nifty; people realized it's a problem with Velvette, which is cool, but Nifty still suffers from it too often

☆ any headcanons?

— Alastor plans on actually befriending Charlie to have a powerful willing ally like Rosie who can help him get off the leash

— Alastor decided to fight Adam to show off his powers and publicly defeat the First Man, but miscalculated catastrophically (stole this one from my sister)

— Nifty will be forced to choose between Alastor and the Hotel residents at some point in season 2

— Charlie subconsciously treats Hotel guests the way she was treated by her parents as a kid cause it's her only point of reference

— Vaggie and Angel will grow closer cause they're very similar in their protective nature, realistic worldview and self-neglect (season 2 i'm begging you)

— both Charlie and Vaggie visited Rosie and Carmilla, respectively, after the final battle to tell them how it went

— Carmilla will introduce Vaggie to her daughters and they will start hanging out sometimes

— Charlie will introduce Vaggie to Rosie

— Vaggie had good relationship with other exterminators during her Heaven era, even with Lute at some point, and she always hated Adam

— i like the idea of Husk winning back either Angel's soul from Valentino or his own from Alastor in a game of cards (it's like poetry; irl don't play if you're an addict though) or any other seemingly inoffensive game

— after he looses Angel's soul (and get his own beaten out of him preferably) Valentino will reevaluate his life and start dating Vox officially

— Cherry and Husk will become unlikely pals through Angel

— the apple tower is more likely Charlie's office, not Lucifer's, but he will be involved with running the Hotel

— considering Lucifer is actually a sincere, nice and caring person, it will be HARD for Alastor to win back the spotlight after he returns to the Hotel

================================================

wow you got that far here let me share some sketches i did:

[angeltreasure]

Hello Sister, this account is very beautiful and helpful. If it’s ok to ask, how did God speak to you and tell you what you should be. I have been praying for years for that answer. But during that time I have backslided, skipped praying, and reading the Holy Bible. I’m not proud about that. Since school is opening soon, and I am finished my secondary education, I need to know what God wants be to be, I read online that people said God allows us that choice. But a popular preacher named Derek Prince said that even the smallest decisions, like which way crossing the road , we should ask God. I feel so hopeless please pray for me, and if God speaks to you please tell me, I am listening

Hello there!,

Aww thank you. Don’t worry you can ask me anything. I went through a very similar path to you. Despite being a cradle Catholic, there were certain times in my life where I sprayed from taking it seriously too. I went for many years without reading the Bible and just relied on hearing readings from Mass. it wasn’t until I hot real low points I realized I couldn’t rely on myself. I think vocation is easy for some to realize but not so easy for others. It seems some people have it so easy and find the love of their life to marry, start a family, etc. The rest of us don’t know our true vocation until a later time. It is correct that God gave us free will to choose, because we can’t be forced into marriage or religious life, etc. Sometimes God calls us to a certain vocation when we “hear” His voice. Not a voice like speaking but one on your heart. A vocation is what we yearn in our heart. Keep in mind forever that God does not value one vocation more important than another. God will love you the same no matter what vocation you pick.

I thought of religious life about three times. -Once at 13, because I was inspired by the nuns who took care of one of my grandmas.

-Once at 26. I felt it was the best fit for me. I started researching many convents and narrowing things down.

-And lastly, at 28. I narrowed my interests down to two religious orders. I was very drawn to the Divine Mercy and Eucharistic Adoration and the Rosary.

Last year I came to a fork in the road about either joining religious life or moving our West with one set of parents. I knew being in debt and not being in the best health would not get me accepted into where I wanted to be. I chose to move our West to help that set of parents instead. I have, however, since this time, joined four different groups that allow lay persons to join (they are listed in my blog description). I have never had any luck with love unlike many girls from my age group in schools and jobs that I’ve met. I feel it won’t happen anytime soon, but I also see the many consequences of destroyed relationships. I am turning my interests of prayer, the Divine Mercy, and Eucharistic Adoration into a new way going forward to spread the Word of God- creating this blog is part of that.

Every decision we make, no matter how small, can affect the universe. That’s why it’s important to avoid sin as best you can and if you have sinned, go to confession right away. Don’t worry about the how or when your vocation will come. I worried for a long time but it was during this time of being restless, I learned to place my trust in God more and more. I encourage you to research online about vocations. It won’t cost you a thing to research. Take all the time you need and don’t jump into one right away without giving it thought. Sometimes we need to try a bit of a certain vocation by spending time with those who are in it. Ask them questions and see what your heart is drawn to best.

I will pray for you! May the Holy Spirit guide your heart to the best path. May God bless you.

[nicolerebucas17]

In 2022, I graduated junior high school at Jagobiao National High School and decided to transfer to another school for my senior high years at Benedicto College. I decided to enroll, wondering if I had made the right choice. I remember being amazed by how huge and different it was from the school that I previously attended. Although the registrar and accounting seem a little bit complicated, it didn't stop me from then on. I was debating with myself about what to choose. I nervously picked up my ballpen and carefully began to choose what I wanted to become because, in that moment, I realized that it was the beginning of a new chapter of my life. 

The first few months was indeed challenging. Waking up at 4 am and preparing for an adrenaline rush day, commuting from 30 minutes to 1 hour, but most of the time booking a grab/maxim so that I won't be late for the first of my classes due to a very heavy load of traffic, and not to mention the polluted air and it seems harder than i what thought.

This was when we'd walked from A.S. Fortuna to Banilad, Cebu, waiting for a bus with full of people and wondering when will it becomes empty so we can get on board, and hoping for a bit of space, fate and luck. I'm glad that my junior high batch mates was here with me. 🤍

One day, our subject teacher in Philosophy and Introduction to World Religion and Beliefs tasked us to visit some of the beautiful chinese temples at Cebu, City, Philippines. Upon arriving we'd rent "habal-habal" or taxi, and we'd pay around 300 pesos for the fare as it was located to the higher point and secured area of Beverly Hills. This was taken at Taoist Temple, Lahug on November, 2023. I was truly mesmerized with the place, from the temple itself that was about 270 meters above sea level, the main entrance that was replicated by the great wall of China, and the panoramic view that has an access to the pleasing view of the city. 🤍 Indeed a magical place. But, the highlight of our tour was to explore different religions, cultures of the Chinese community, specifically Taoism.

Despite the challenges and hardships that I faced during my time here. I'm grateful that I've got to meet amazing people, with different back stories, beliefs, and values that somewhat became my companion in an everyday life. 🤍

But, I decided to transfer back to my previous school again because of some personal reasons that were taking a toll on me, mentally and physically.

The moment I walked through the four walls of the classroom. I knew that I was back to zero again. Meeting new faces and adjusting to the new environment again, and it took me around a few more months to finally get back on my feet again with the help of those people who surrounds me.

I'm thankful of our beautiful adviser, Ms. Geo, for her guidance and support that she bestowed with me ever since day one. 🤍

Additionally, to my new-found friends that has made my grade 12 journey bearable and lighter. I couldn't survive here if it weren't for them. I'll be forever grateful for you guys.

and also, to my dearest best friend, Monica, for being with my darkest and lightest times, cheering and rooting me up all the time, and always making sure that i put a smile when we're together.

Lastly, I'm glad that I've made progress thus far. I'm thankful for all of the times that I didn't give up and continually fought against what life was throwing at me. I'll forever remember my journey in senior high school because it molded me into who I am today and what I will become in the near future. And here goes my favorite saying whenever I'm lost: "Believe you can, then you're halfway there".

[shattered-sparks]

I think I finally accepted the whole situation regarding Jade, 2D, and Phobia. At-least processed it to where I'm not causing the body self destructive urges anymore. everyone who was apart of this situation are going to forever be stuck in their ways. They do not hold the mental maturity to accept what happened and will refuse to listen to us even if we tried talking things out again. -🔮 | Zorua Some final thoughts from all of us (For closure) - the Shattered System (Heavy notes: This is not for anyone but ourselves. If you know any of these people DO NOT GO CONTACTING THEM! Everything is done and over with. We are just finding our closure with it all by posting this. Once again, leave them alone! This is personal Drama, not internet Drama. We simply find our own peace by posting it online as we know our socials are stalked by these people)

Phobia for some reason would rather be stuck in a grooming situation surrounded by adults who enables and even encourages adults being sexual around/with minors. We no longer hold the anger we once held and have reflected that it was due to possible BPD splitting. We are both apologetic and not at the same time for the situation was both parties dealing with stress and anxiety. We're glad that you choose for your own mental health to not be friends with us. We have and will always respect that. Ynon as I'll call you to respect your wishes, we wish to never fucking see you again. For years you have engaged in online harassment and spreading false information about us. Constantly calling us every name in the god damn book for Years. We have said our sorrys to you constantly, and for you to go and act all upset and mad the second you break a promise is aggravating behavior. Paired with the fact you disgustingly played pretend that you had nothing to do with the callout doc on a call where we were panicking. No amount of sorrys will ever change how slimy of a person you are. Jade and 2D, you both should be ashamed of yourselves. Absolutely ashamed. To start off with Jade, I hope you one day actually reflect on this situation and realize that everything that happened was because of you holding a grudge against us for the most tiny mistakes. Entitled and controlling you constantly couldn't get through the past and took it out on us in the present, even after knowing we had done everything we could to apologize and say sorry. Spreading false information about us only further pushes that you still hold onto that anger, wishing nothing but to hurt us for thing that were already made up for. Begging our partners to not take us away when in reality you were simply trying to isolate us yourselves. Trying to control how our romantic relationship works out of your own abandonment issues. We almost feel bad since you're still clearly being groomed by 2D, but it's only almost. As you have more than shown, you don't care. There is so much we would love to discuss with you to try and help but we know you won't listen. Because at the end of the day you'd rather be upset that you don't accept our apology and spread false information that we never apologized than to actually grow as a person. Lastly, 2D. We had fought tooth and nail for you against false allegations of being a groomer and a pedophile, but how you used us as a escape goat to avoid taking accountability for this really shows you simply became the monster you hated to be called. Convincing Jade and even yourself that we were the source of all your problems. That we were the ones who gave you a romantic crush on a minor. When in reality it was all your own doing. You became what you hated most in life, I hope you're happy To end this post our final thoughts are this was incredibly stupid and everyone acted so fucking immature. Stop projecting your own self issues onto us and actually work on yourselves like you so claim to.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"War of the Roses" - Mafia!Billy Russo x Reader x Yandere!Matt Murdock

[TW: mafia themes + yandere trope/obsessive behavior + arranged marriage + explicit language]

Next Part: [Ring around the rose]

SUMMARY: Being the daughter of a mob boss came with various difficulties and limits, like not being able to choose your own husband. Things get a little more complicated when a certain lawyer interested in your fiance intervenes.

Word count: ~3.9k

Author's note: This is a shower thought brought to life. Yandere!Matt Murdock is highkey a great concept.

You stared at your engagement ring in slight dismay. It was simply a marvelous piece of jewelry but its implications made your skin crawl and stomach churn. Truthfully, you only had yourself to blame - it was obvious things were going to end this way since the day you were born, so your anger was more than misplaced. You knew, and yet you didn't accept.

The sounds of New York traffic barely reached your ears, somehow the roar of car engines and impatient honking was merely a whisper when compared with your spiraling thoughts. It was the first warm night of the year.

Billy placed his hand on your knee in a reassuring manner. He took the arrangement a lot better than you, already used to jumping hurdles in life. Something in his otherwise disinterested and ambivalent behavior made you think if he even cared about the engagement in the first place. You couldn't shake off the feeling that your marriage was nothing beyond a mean to an end to him - something that just has to happen if he wants to achieve his goal. That thought bore a new wave of worry inside you: if he doesn't care about you, even in the most mundane, "Christian" way, just how miserable will your life be with him? You knew plenty of men like him, practically growing up around such a crowd: immovable mountains with neither empathy nor shame.

Your last glimmer of hope was, ironically, your father, who must have thought that Billy Russo was a good enough candidate for your husband. That is, of course, if your well-being was in any way taken into account while discussing the 'alliance'. But, he was your father, he wouldn't just give you away to a less than humane man. You had to believe that.

A wave of pleasant, warm air hit your bare skin and you realized that the car had stopped and now a chubby, smiling porter in his sixties was holding the door open for you, patiently waiting for you to get out. He was wearing a double-breasted white suit, his thinning, gray hair was combed elegantly to the side.

"Madame," he said in a bright, warm voice and extended his gloved hand towards you. You noticed his slight French accent.

"Thank you," you mumbled under your nose and took his hand to leave the car. A pang of guilt hit your chest upon the realization that you were quite rude to the older gentleman but there were more important matters on your mind.

"I don't want to be here any more than you, princess," Billy's low voice made you jump in surprise, feeling his breath brush against your bare neck. The smell of his musky cologne was more pleasant when mixed with the warm air. "Try not to look so angry and let's get this over with."

Even outside, Mozart's Ascanio in Alba played by the orchestra was audible. The gentle wind carried the bright tune, muffling it slightly and making it somehow elusive, like a wood dryad happily calling out to lost travelers.

Most of the time, Billy was frank with you and, although sometimes he came off as cheeky, his honesty was refreshing and somehow comforting: he said what he meant. He had no desire to impress you or woo you, which was better than being stuck with a man who wants to take from you whatever he wants. Such straightforwardness seemed quite intimidating in its fearlessness.

The vestibule was filled with people, leaving you only guessing the number of guests present in the main hall. Most of the faces were vaguely familiar to you but their names remained forever unknown to your memory. It wasn't the first banquet you have attended, truthfully, you took part in such parties biweekly. This time, however, you were the talk of the town or rather the fact that you were now engaged, to everyone's surprise, as there was no indication before that you and Billy were interested in each other. Before becoming his fiance, you have seen him exactly three times. In some bitterly funny way, you were like a Disney princess.

Your appearance became nearly instantly noticed by a woman in her forties or fifties, dressed in a glittery red dress and gold jewelry. She was some senator's wife if you remembered correctly.

"Billy and (Y/N)!" She was like that one aunt you see only on Christmas or Thanksgiving. Never both. "I heard about the engagement. You kids grow up so fast!" She stared at you with a wide smile while gripping your and Billy's arms. The lady leaned in to add something quietly. "I shouldn't be saying this but your children will be so pretty!"

"Lizzie, are you coddling the youngsters again?" A man called out. As if he could sense how mortified you were at the woman's comment, her husband showed up.

"Senator Bloomberg, it's great to see you," Billy shook his hand, pretending as if the awkward remark never happened.

Right, Henry Bloomberg III, the senator mostly known for embezzlement allegations. His wife, on the other hand, was surely mixed up in human trafficking but so far no lawyer was able to prove anything. You played basketball with their son Louis in the summer until he left for Harvard.

"There is someone who wants to meet you, mister Russo," the senator spoke while vaguely gesturing his glass-holding hand to the crowd he came out of.

"I'll be back soon, princess," Billy said to you with a smile and followed Bloomberg into the mass of Stuart Hughes suits. You felt sick at his impression of a loving fiance, although you had to admit he was convincing.

"Oh, I remember when we were like that with Henry," Mrs.Bloomberg spoke in a dreamy tone. "It gets even better after the kids move out. Have fun, darling!" And with that final exclamation, she rejoined the circle of wealthy housewives whining about their husbands and discussing the latest polo tournament.

You looked around, unsure what to do with yourself. Letting out a heavy, defeated sigh, you made your way to the open bar, hoping that a drink would ease your nerves and make the whole evening more bearable.

The Kir Royal you were drinking was probably the best one you've had so far: not too sweet, refreshingly dry and cool. Leaning against the bar, silently watching the bartender casually make the most complex of drinks, you started to regain your hope. Maybe you made it all a lot worse in your head than it really was. It was just a banquet, like many you have attended but now you had a ring on your finger.

"Girl, you've done harder things, come on," you whispered to yourself.

"Excuse me." You heard a male voice behind you. You turned slightly, facing the stranger with your side, only to see a lean man with unkempt hair and attention-grabbing red-tinted glasses. He had a good-looking, kind face. Thick fingers tightly held the cane, keeping it glued to his torso. "Are you miss (Y/l/n)?"

"Do we know each other, sir?"

"I'm afraid not. My name is Matthew Murdock. A pleasure to meet you, miss."

You thoughtlessly extended your hand towards him only to realize your mindless action a second later. A burn of embarrassment crept onto your cheeks.

"You just went for a handshake, didn't you?" he asked.

"I am so sorry, mister Murdock, I didn't mean to be rude," you apologized and he chuckled.

Your worried bashfulness pluck at a string in his heart he has nearly forgotten about. It was the same string that, when grazed, makes one's abdomen tighten in burning excitement. It was an uncomfortable and yet entirely addictive sensation.

"Does anyone ever?" he asked humorously. "No worries, miss." His smile was convincing. He truly did not mind your faux pas. "Actually, I've been meaning to ask a few questions about your fiance, Billy Russo."

Unfamiliar men asking about your family was never a good sign but with the unexpected change in your marital status, such occurrences were bound to happen.

"And why's that, mister Murdock?" You furrowed your eyebrows and yet his expression remained ever so pleasant as if he wasn't committing a dangerously suspicious act right now.

"I'm curious, just that."

As if anyone in this line of business was ever just 'curious'.

"Well, sir, I'm afraid I can't be of much help. I don't know Billy well."

A weird, intense sensation appeared in his gut when you called him 'sir'. It was both fascinating and unpleasant but entirely uncomfortable and curious.

"Aren't you engaged?"

"Believe me, sir, that it doesn't mean as much here as it does in your world. In here, women are more of collateral damage."

It escaped your attention that he gripped the cane even tighter, if that was ever possible, along with his lips. He swallowed hard and was about to ask something again, when Billy reappeared from the lavish crowd, visibly displeased at the sight of your conversationalist.

"Matthew Murdock, what brings you here?" Billy asked. Although his tone came off as polite, his raised cheeks revealed the contempt boiling in his viscus. He loosely wrapped his arm around your waist, making you momentarily nervous in your discomfort. Unaware, you started rubbing your hands. None of those details escaped Matt's sharp senses. Whatever relationship you actually shared with the young mob leader, the close proximity to him wasn't something you wanted.

"I see you know each other?" You were slightly confused, even more so when you noticed Billy's stark gaze drilling a hole in the other man's forehead. Matthew's expression had also changed. In a matter of seconds, the pleasant smile was exchanged for a cold demeanor.

"He's the lawyer that put Wilson Fisk behind bars, only to spectacularly lose the people versus Frank Castle case." A scornful smile appeared on your fiance's face. Billy didn't look at you. "He did tell you he's a lawyer, didn't he?"

You furrowed your eyebrows yet again and opened your mouth to answer Billy but Matthew spoke up first, taking up the verbal joust your fiance instigated.

"I'm sorry, it must have slipped my mind." Matthew didn't try to hide the dishonesty of his apology.

"Make sure my name slips your mind too, mister Murdock. For your own good."

Billy grabbed your elbow and forcefully pulled you away from the lawyer, marching through the hall to a more secluded part of the mansion, away from prying ears.

"What did he want?" His voice pierced the tense silence between you.

"To talk about you. Said he's 'just curious'."

"And did you tell him anything?"

"Didn't have a chance to. Not that I would, obviously." You made a pause, sighed and added quietly: "He's onto you, Billy."

Somehow, your statement didn't make him worried and even if it actually did, his expression didn't reveal it. Billy Russo remained confident as ever. He leaned back, creating more distance between you and pulled up a corner of his mouth.

"Don't worry, I won't give him the satisfaction."

Days went by and you have nearly forgotten about the curious encounter, as the persona of the suspicious lawyer didn't remind you or Billy of its existence. That was until one day Billy came home weirdly silent and visibly tense. He stood in the middle of the living room, ran a hand through his hair and down his beard. He surprised you when he was willing to share what had gotten him such a sour mood: Daredevil. Apparently, Billy was next on the vigilante's 'hit list', which caused many of his underground operations to be busted and the illegal commodities to be requisited by the state. Little did you know, the noticeable drop in his income was just the beginning of troubles.

It's been maybe two months since you had run into Matthew Murdock when you were walking home after dinner with your friend. You knew Hudson Yards like the back of your hand, having spent most of your life here. There was something heartwarming and comforting about the unchanged streets of the lavish neighborhood - the world could be falling apart and Hudson Yards would yawn over its breakfast serving of imported caviar, completely disinterested in the adversities of the little people.

Two stocky men suddenly blocked your way, hovering over you in a menacing manner. Although their behavior confused you, it would be a lie to say that you were scared. You've seen things that would give them nightmares. Their puffed chests didn't impress you.

"Come on, pretty lady, give us the bag."

In a swift, calculated and practiced motion, you pulled a gun out of your purse and aimed it straight at the man's chest. His friend suddenly tensed up, clearly understanding that they might have underestimated their target group.

"How about you fuck off."

As you figuratively ended the sentence with a full stop, a shadow emerged from the darkness of the night, skilfully taking down the two men with exceptionally flashy, impractical and yet impressive moves. The yellow light of the streetlamps shone on his clothes ever so slightly, revealing their maroon hue. You were left doubtless about the identity of your "savor".

"It's you," you said not really knowing what to expect from the man. Would he kill you for the mere fact that you were his enemy's spouse-to-be? Should you treat this strange occurrence as a form of a threat? "What do you want from me?"

He was standing only partially in the shadow. You could make out his general silhouette and the angry, red eyes. It was like meeting a ghost, really: you don't believe until you are haunted.

"I don't want you to get hurt for the crimes Billy Russo has committed," he spoke in a low, tense tone. Something about him was strangely familiar but you couldn't quite put a finger on it. "Find the lawyer that asked you about him, he can help you."

"I was raised in this life. It takes a bit more than red spandex to scare me."

"I'm not trying to scare you. Billy Russo will face justice and you shouldn't get hurt by the ricochet."

"Thank you for the unsolicited advice but I'll pass."

And with those words thrown in the quiet of the night, you turned around and went your way, leaving the vigilante to his own devices. He was unsure whether your confidence and stubbornness were fascinating or irritating. Could it be that a man can feel such conflicting emotions at once? Whatever it was, his passionate, burning interest in you only grew. Daredevil began to wonder what he should do next.

Billy gave you a sharp and yet amused look as you threw your bag on the table. He's never seen you this worked up.

"There is some deep bullshit going on and I'm going to find out what it is exactly. I was walking here when suddenly two guys jump me, you know, in the neighborhood that hasn't seen as much as littering in the last fifty years. So I'm already thinking there's something weird going on but then, the Daredevil himself chivalrously comes to my aid. This is Hudson Yards, people don't get mugged here, especially me, so what the hell was he doing here, and who paid those idiots to play thieves? That's not even the end, it gets weirder. Stop laughing, I'm dead serious. He takes down those morons and, guess what, tells me to go find that Murdock lawyer I talked to like two months ago."

Billy nearly thought that the way you got excited over the whole thing was adorable. Nearly.

"What do you wanna do 'bout that?" Sitting with his arms folded, he appeared more stern than usual. The tone of his voice was, too, giving away the tension inside him.

"Go there, obviously. Don't make that face, Billy, just hear me out, okay? First, there's this lawyer who wants to talk to me about you, he gets nothing and disappears. Then, the local vigilante targets your activities and things start going to shit. The said vigilante also saves me, miraculously, and suggests I talk to the lawyer who wanted intel on you in the first place. If this is all some cosmic coincidence, I'm righting my wrongs with God and joining a church choir."

"Are you trying to say that a blind man puts on a spandex suit and runs around the city destroying my business? Really?" In his disbelief, he was about to question your comprehension of reality.

"I'm trying to say that there's something fishy about these two and it's obvious as hell. It might be your business, Billy, but in a few weeks, it's going to be my life and I'll be damned if a Halloween kid ruins it."

Billy chuckled and shook his head hearing your tirade. He was laughing at you, not with you. To him, you were less than defenseless and powerless, nothing more than a toothless puppy trying to gnaw on someone's hand.

"Since when are you so tough, flower?"

"Since my surname gives FBI migraines. Lawyers and vigilantes too, apparently."

Maybe, after all, you had more to offer than your father's power. Billy began wondering whether you had some potential to be used, while simultaneously knowing that you're treading on thin ice and he was convinced you lacked the experience and subtlety to navigate it safely. Nevertheless, part of him remained curious as to what your courage, newly-discovered to him, could bring. You have stepped on a tightrope hanging over a gaping hole of fire and Billy Russo comfortably watched, doubtful of your success and yet, deep inside him, curious that it may happen.

Hell's Kitchen wasn't your usual destination. Truthfully, you couldn't quite remember the last time you set your foot on its streets. The reason was quite simple: Hell's Kitchen had nothing that could delight you. And it seemed that both of you knew it, never getting in each other's way.

However, to anyone unfamiliar with your agreement with the streets of Hell's Kitchen, you might as well have been a regular visitor. The discrepancy came from a curious phenomenon - many pedestrians seemed to have recognized you from somewhere, like a local celebrity, and greeted you with visible surprise at the unforeseen meeting. But a diligent observer would notice another, even more curious, tendency: all of the people that have stopped to wish you a good morning, had a fleur-de-lis pin on their clothes. French lilies in New York had only one, very well known to you, meaning.

New York Saints.

Matt listened to the slow, hesitant steps approaching the door of his office. He knew that specific clicking of high heels and suddenly grew nervous at the thought of meeting their owner. Weeks had gone by of him waiting for that moment, carefully planning each word that would leave his mouth should the opportunity arise. But now those fantastic make-believes were to become reality and, as reality tends to be, he couldn't quite predict just how off the rails the confrontation will go, what unanticipated impediments the future held.

The knob turned, clicked, and the sound of heels became sharper. He listened to you exchange short, assertive phrases with Karen, who was less than pleased with you. It was obvious to him that she wouldn't be fond of you, at least not right away: expensive clothes, confident manners, quick wit and an attitude of someone who thinks they can do and get whatever they want. The difference was that you could have anything you wanted and should you wish, their lives would be at your whim's mercy. What Karen might have thought was just a gimmick, was, actually, a mere indication of the real capability.

He smiled to himself when you entered his office, hearing your heartbeat quicken and breaths become more shallow. You were tense and tense people often make mistakes, become too obvious and too impulsive. Maybe he could use it to his advantage. You shut the door behind you before sitting down across from him and speaking.

"What do you want?" you asked in a cold tone. He was playing some kind of a game and it irritated you, more so because you were unable to discern its rules or goal.

Your demanding tone nearly made him answer honestly: he wanted you. He's been thinking about you since the first time he heard your voice, replaying your sweet tone every waking minute. He wanted to save you from that savage mutt you called your fiance. But that confession had to wait to be revealed.

"I don't know what you mean, miss (Y/l/n)."

"That's bullshit, Murdock, and you know it. It's too late to play dumb."

"I don't like bullies and took it upon myself to stop them. Your fiance is nothing more than that."

The sole thought of Billy made Matt want to go on an animalistic, completely feral rampage. It was a mortal sin to simply give you away to a man so undeserving. Could that villain take care of you? Would he appreciate your existence? Did he have the humility to worship you? No, that crude man knew nothing besides violence and padding his way to the top with corpses.

You sighed heavily and rubbed your face in exhaustion. He seemed like a hard-headed man and so it shouldn't be a surprise to you that he was stubborn, even in the face of death and mutilation. A gut feeling told you that, maybe, this suicide-adjacent act made him especially stubborn, somehow earning a twisted, masochistic satisfaction from it.

"Mister Murdock, whatever mission you think you're on, this act is not gonna fly any longer if you set your vengeful eyes on either the Saints or Billy Russo. You may be good at hurdles but this is a pole vault. Leave this, for your own well-being."

"I'm a fast learner, miss (Y/l/n)," he answered in a confident tone.

"Faster than a dozen rounds from an assault rifle?"

"You'd be surprised."

His reckless comment made you scoff. Maybe Matthew Murdock was too far gone, beyond any hope of rescue. Sitting comfortably in his office chair, with a smile on his lips, he seemed somewhere between charming and completely deranged.

"I admire your work and morale, mister Murdock," you spoke while fishing for something in your purse. "But I'm afraid playing on the wrong team will end your prolific career disappointingly soon."

Matt heard the clicking of metal against his desk. He didn't have to touch that little object to know exactly well what your little gift was: a golden fleur-de-lis pin. An offer.

He gave you a bright smile and slid the pin back towards you.

"Thank you, miss (Y/ln), but I'm afraid this time we have to fight on opposite sides."

"You will thank me when you make it out alive."

The door shut behind you when you left and Matt took a deep breath, delighted with the sweet fragrance of your perfume.

Old people often say that "in war and love everything is permitted". Matthew Murdock took it as a suggestion rather than a warning upon his realization that this time, to meet his goals, war and love have merged into one. What a thin line runs between devotion and cruelty.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Nineteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: another chapter where the girls are clowns and cassian worships nesta's every breath 🙄 i promise some variety is headed your way soon

***

Gwyn adamantly refuses to accept any gifts for her birthday, much to Emerie’s irritation and Nesta’s relief. No amount of love for her friends can make Nesta enjoy the turmoil of hunting for the perfect gift, and she happily shows up at Gwyn’s apartment that night with nothing save for an overnight bag.

Gwyn easily has the nicest home out of all three of the girls, and it makes Nesta feel oddly proud to have a financially stable friend. Nesta herself has been flacking on her legal consultant duties to Night Court Inc., choosing to make do with the money she’s already earned while focusing on school.

Once they’ve all changed into sleep clothes and are settled around the living room coffee table with a cupcake and a glass of wine each, Gwyn pulls out a brightly colored bracelet-making kit with a sheepish grin. “I found this while I was looking through my childhood things,” she says, opening the kit. “You guys aren’t too grown for it, are you?”

“Depends,” Emerie hums, leaning over to get a closer look. “Is it Rainbow Loom?”

She gets her answer when Gwyn dumps out bundles of multicolored string instead of rubber bands onto the table. Looking disappointed, Emerie plucks up a handful of string. “Fine, I guess I can make do.”

Nesta licks cream cheese frosting off her thumb. “How do you make them? The bracelets?”

She’s met with two dumbfounded stares. “Have you never been to a thirteen year old’s slumber party?” Gwyn says.

“...No?”

When Gwyn and Emerie keep staring, Nesta feels the need to add, “I’ve never been to a sleepover. This is my first.” She was never one to be invited to sleepovers or social gatherings; even when she made acquaintances in middle and high school, they were just that—acquaintances.

“That’s… actually kind of sad,” Emerie says. Gwyn elbows her hard, making her yelp.

“I never thought of it that way,” Nesta says, shrugging. Though maybe it’s because a lot of things about her childhood were sad; it isn’t like she kept count of it all.

“Well, you can learn how to make bracelets now,” Gwyn states, taking out a little plastic baggie and emptying it out onto the table. Small silver charms scatter everywhere. “Everyone gets three colors and one charm.”

Nesta leans forward, making out the different charms. She spies one in the shape of a book, and another in the shape of a dove, and one in the shape of a music note. She snatches up the eighth note before anyone else can. Gwyn takes the book for herself, and Emerie considers the selection of charms before picking a dagger-shaped one. They prepare their string next.

“Now, we can either braid them or knot them.” Gwyn demonstrates how to do it either way, Nesta watching closely before imitating her. She braids the strings of her bracelet as best she can, her cheeks turning red with frustration whenever she spies one of the other girls’ perfect knots. Her half-eaten cupcake is forgotten as she tries to get her bracelet to stay together.

At one point she just has to accept the shoddy work she’s done and tie the bracelet off. She checks to see if it fits on her wrist.

“Now everyone give their bracelet to the person on their left,” Gwyn declares.

Nesta clutches her sloppily-made bracelet to her chest as Emerie responds, “What?”

“So we can wear each other’s bracelets,” Gwyn explains. “And carry around a part of each other all the time.”

“If I had known we were gonna be sentimental, I wouldn’t have picked the cute charm,” Emerie grumbles. Nesta agrees, but Gwyn just clicks her tongue and starts switching bracelets around. In the end, Nesta has Emerie’s dagger bracelet, Gwyn has Nesta’s music note bracelet, and Emerie has Gwyn’s book charm.

Nesta wiggles her bracelet on and turns her wrist over in the light. “That was fun,” she decides. “What happens next at a sleepover?”

“Next,” Gwyn says, “we exchange our most embarrassing secrets with each other, and then we do each other’s hair.”

Emerie shakes her head. “Okay, now I’m really too old for this. Anyone want to watch a movie?”

Gwyn nudges Emerie. “I’m the old one here, and it’s my birthday.” She raises her pert chin in a way that doesn’t look very grown up at all. “What I say goes.”

Emerie flicks up an eyebrow and stares in challenge, which Nesta interrupts by saying, rather exasperatedly, “I’ll go first, then.”

She digs around in her head for something embarrassing enough to be socially acceptable, only to realize that although a lot of embarrassing things have happened to her before, none of them are secrets. She finally settles on an admission. “When I was a kid, I had a thing for breaking and entering into rich people’s empty houses and hanging out in them. Does that count as a secret?”

Gwyn gapes, laughing in disbelief. “Are you going to leave it at that?”

“That actually sounds fun.” Emerie swirls her wine. “Why’d you stop?”

Nesta had almost forgotten. “I got caught.” She remembers the terror of being fourteen and fleeing past cherry blossom trees on her bare feet. “The owner’s family showed up early to vacation one year, and I never risked going back after that.” She shrugs. “Who’s next?”

Gwyn raises her hand excitedly. “I used to be a hardcore Gleek. Like, I had a closet full of Glee memorabilia.”

Nesta doesn’t quite know what to say. Emerie winces. “Maybe you should’ve kept that one a secret.”

“It was only one facet of my entire theatre kid personality. Should I tell you about the rest?”

Emerie raises her hands in surrender. “Please don’t. I’ll go next if it makes you stop.”

Gwyn laughs and Nesta perks up. “What’s your secret?” She hopes Emerie will finally admit to filling their shared Kindle account with lesbian spanking fiction.

But Emerie suddenly gets serious, clearing her throat and fingering the stem of her wine glass. “I might have the worst secret,” she says awkwardly. “I haven’t been honest with you guys.”

Nesta straightens, and Gwyn looks intrigued.

“In my defense,” Emerie says, “I never expected all of us to end up hanging out this much. Before Nesta and I became friends, all I did was show up to school to kick rich kids’ asses and make career connections.”

“Spit it out, Emerie,” Nesta tells her.

So she does. “I’ve been lying about my age.” Her cheeks turn red, either from alcohol or embarrassment, Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta furrows her brows. “You’re not twenty-four?”

Emerie shakes her head in guilt.

“How old are you, then?” Gwyn says.

Emerie mutters something too low for them to hear. When Gwyn tells her to repeat herself, she says, too loudly, “Twenty-eight.”

She’s met with silence, and then—

Gwyn starts cackling, nearly keeling over. Nesta can only stare in shock. “Why would you—?”

“Because school is a shark tank,” Emerie says. “Everyone else went there straight out of undergrad, and I had to work four jobs for four years just to afford tuition. Being old at Prythian means being poor.” She quietens, looking down at her brown hands twisted together. “And by the time we started to get close, it felt too weird to bring up. So… I’m sorry?” She looks up to see if Nesta is upset.

Nesta doesn’t know what to feel, but Gwyn seems to. “You called me old,” she accuses. “You’re nearly a grandma!”

“Were you going to lie about your age forever?” Nesta interjects.

“If I had known there was going to be a forever, I would have opened up a lot sooner,” Emerie defends.

Nesta drops her head onto the table and covers her ears with her arms. “This is so weird,” she says against the wood of the table, her voice muffled. “I can never look at you the same way ever again.”

“That’s fair,” Emerie says cautiously. “But are you really mad?” Nesta feels a hesitant hand touch her shoulder.

“I need time to process,” Nesta says from her cocoon. Suddenly she hears a hum and a click, and her cocoon gets even darker. Gwyn and Emerie make twin sounds of surprise.

Poking her head up, Nesta blinks to find total darkness in the apartment. The heater has stopped running, leaving behind a quiet stillness.

“Shit,” Gwyn curses, fumbling with her phone. The flashlight turns on, lighting up her face. “I swear I paid my electric bill.”

“I don’t think it’s just you,” Emerie says, getting up to look out the window. “Look, the whole street is out.”

By the time they gather some candles and light them, the apartment has dropped twenty degrees in temperature. Nesta shudders, wishing she’d brought some warm pants with her.

“Let me get us some blankets,” Gwyn says, running off to the linen closet. Emerie and Nesta huddle together on the couch while they wait.

“So you’re really not mad at me?” Emerie asks, hope in her voice.

“Not mad,” Nesta says. “But I think we all lost a little respect for you back there.”

Emerie smiles. “Just a little?”

Gwyn comes back then wearing a thick sweater and carrying a pile of comforters. “I got a text from the landlord,” she says, unceremoniously dropping the blankets onto the couch. “Ice took out the power lines in the whole neighborhood, and we’re not getting any electricity until morning.”

“But it’s negative temperatures outside,” Nesta protests. “We’ll freeze to death.”

“Not if we all cuddle.” Gwyn tries to beam at them, but the effort is futile. “I’m sorry, guys,” she sighs, plopping onto the couch beside Nesta. “This is a terrible birthday celebration.”

Nesta wraps an arm around Gwyn and tucks her into her side, soaking up her warmth as Emerie spreads a heavy comforter over all of their legs. “What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong.”

The girls sit in silence for a few minutes until Emerie speaks up. “I wonder what Mr. Madani is doing right now.”

“What?” Nesta frowns.

“He’s probably all alone in his fancy heated cabin, unaware that you’re stuck in the cold dark.” Emerie suddenly smacks Nesta’s arm. “Hey. Why are we freezing our asses off here when you practically own that cabin?”

“I do not practically own that cabin,” Nesta splutters. “And this is Gwyn’s birthday. Why would I take you to Cassian’s place on her birthday?”

“Exactly!” Emerie says. “It’s Gwyn’s birthday, and she deserves better than this. Can’t your boyfriend be a little charitable and share his nice house with us?”

Nesta turns to Gwyn for help, but Gwyn just says carefully, “...Is it a big cabin?”

Emerie nods fiercely, pulling out her phone. “Eris has a picture of it from New Year’s on his Instagram. You wouldn’t believe how much money these Night Court execs make.”

Nesta makes pointed eyes at Gwyn. “You really want to spend your birthday with two strange men?” Cassian and Azriel aren’t exactly meek, nonthreatening men either—at least not at first glance. Considering the state Gwyn was in just some weeks ago, this doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.

Gwyn sounds wary but open-minded when she says, “You trust them, right? And it’s not like we’re going to let the guys join our sleepover. We’re just going to have a warm place to stay while we wait for my power to come back.”

When it’s phrased like that… Nesta purses her lips, thinking.

“Fine,” she finally decides. “Let’s go.”

***

Nesta strips off her jeans almost as soon as she enters the cabin. Much to Cassian’s pride and pleasure, this leaves her wearing only one of his old sweatshirts. Meanwhile, Gwyn and Emerie stand around awkwardly in the middle of the living area without knowing what to do next.

“Make yourselves at home.” Cassian grins at them. “Do you need anything? Food? Drinks?”

“Stop worrying,” Nesta groans. “We don’t need to be mothered.”

“I totally hear you,” he nods. “I’ll make cookies.” And maybe some hot drinks. It’s supposed to be a birthday party, after all.

Just then, Azriel appears at the top of the stairs in a dark hoodie and sweats. He’s halfway down the steps when he notices the living room full of girls and promptly turns around.

Cassian calls his name before he can escape. “Want to help me out in the kitchen?”

“No, thanks,” Az says over his shoulder, leaving Cassian alone to play host.

While Gwyn and Emerie admire the cabin (“There’s a gym down the hallway and a library upstairs,” Nesta points out to them), Cassian gathers baking ingredients in the kitchen. He rarely eats desserts or junk food, much less makes them, but surely he can manage a snack for the girls.

When he returns to the living room half an hour later with cookies and mugs of hot chocolate, the coffee table has been moved out of the way and replaced with a spread of blankets and pillows. The fire crackles hotly enough that Gwyn and Emerie have joined Nesta in discarding any extra clothing articles, and they all cheer from the couch when they spy the food.

“Goddamn,” Emerie whistles at the platter of cookies on Nesta’s lap. “Nesta told us you were a catch, Mr. Madani, but she didn’t tell us she got the full housewife package.”

“Shut up.” Nesta shoves a cookie into Emerie’s mouth and passes Gwyn some hot chocolate. Any toughness vanishes when she looks back at Cassian. “Thank you,” she mouths, and he answers by smoothing out her ponytail.

Satisfied with his work and feeling guilty for crashing the girls’ fun, he’s about to call it a night when he feels a tug at his pants. Nesta is looking up at him with eyes that ask him to stay. Cassian glances nervously to Gwyn and Emerie, who are arguing about what movie to watch from his extensive streaming collection, and glances back to Nesta. Are you sure? he asks her silently.

She nods, but it isn’t until Gwyn says, “Just sit down, you’re blocking the TV,” that he indeed sits his ass down on the floor by Nesta’s feet.

A short tug of war between Gwyn and Emerie results in Emerie getting the remote. She blows a hair triumphantly out of her face. “No Planet Earth documentary for you, then,” she says.

Gwyn sits back, grumbling, “You’d think I’d get treated better on my damn birthday.” Nesta adds, “I like documentaries.”

“You’ll like The Proposal even more,” Emerie refutes, scrolling through the TV.

The smell of melting chocolate chips must invade the rest of the cabin, because not long after the movie begins, Cassian catches Azriel sneaking downstairs. As subtle as a shadow, no one even notices him until he plucks up a cookie from the side table by Nesta.

She slides her eyes over to him without turning her head. “You look like a punk with your hood up,” she snorts. “What are you, fifteen?”

From the floor, Cassian withholds a sigh.

Az shoots her a dark look, clearly not appreciating the attention brought to his presence. “Don’t be a little shit,” he warns in a low tone. He reaches for another cookie and Nesta bats his hand away. “Those aren’t for you,” she hisses.

“Can we please not—” Cassian tries.

Az glares and goes for the cookie again. Nesta smacks him back, which results in a slap fight that is only interrupted by Gwyn pleading, “Guys, we’re missing Sandra Bullock!”

Nesta pulls away, looking apologetic, and Az flushes pink. “Sorry,” he mutters. But he snatches up three cookies with a final look at Nesta and goes to sit in the armchair on the other side of the room.

Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie get cozy once more, quickly forgetting that Az is there. Emerie stretches her brown legs out across Gwyn’s lap like a cat. Nesta drapes her own leg over Cassian’s shoulder without warning. He turns around to meet her eyes, surprised, but she’s already intently focused on the movie. Smiling faintly to himself, he reaches up to brush her skin. It probably looks to everyone else like she owns him head to toe.

One thing Cassian quickly learns about the girls is that they simply can’t sit still. Even Nesta is more restless than usual, and she nearly kicks Cassian in the head more than once while readjusting herself on the couch. Emerie moves to sprawl on the rug. Gwyn sits upside down and watches with her head dangling off the seat.

As for Cassian, he loses all interest in the movie once Nesta joins him and Emerie on the floor, unable to contain her emotions from the couch. He glances between the movie and her face to find what’s making her so giddy, but it’s only the two main characters getting ready for a shower. He lifts a brow in amusement for no one to see, but settles back to watch her face in the glow of the dying fire. He’s waiting for her smile.

Because when Nesta really likes something, she’ll smile, and when she smiles… Everything scrunches up: her nose, her eyes, her cheeks.

On the TV, a naked Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock collide into each other, toppling to the floor. Nesta’s grin makes an appearance, and she slaps Cassian’s thigh in excitement, hard enough to hurt.

He hisses in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything or look away. He thinks he might have to kill anyone that refuses to protect the smile on her face right now, no matter who it is.

Once the scene changes, he walks two fingers up her leg to get her attention. “Nesta,” he whispers, unable to help himself.

She glances at him for half a second before looking back to the movie. “What?”

He opens his arms and gestures her closer. Come and let me hold you.

Nesta makes a face. “Don’t embarrass me in front of the girls.”

Cassian’s lips turn down. “You don’t mean that.”

She does. To prove her point, she crawls closer to Emerie and settles down next to her. Gwyn joins them on the floor, and they all huddle together.

When he catches Az staring at him with a hint of revulsion, Cassian coughs off the yearning and rejection and glares right back.

After the movie finishes, Emerie victoriously crushes an empty can of beer in her fist. Cassian has no idea where it came from. “More Sandra!” she demands.

It takes three more movies before Emerie is knocked out cold on the arrangement of blankets and pillows on the floor, Gwyn with her. Nesta eventually came back to Cassian and fell asleep with her arms wrapped around his waist, and Azriel passed out sometime after Miss Congeniality, curled up in the armchair with his fist propping up his head.

Now, Cassian carefully untangles Nesta from himself, nudging her towards Emerie instead. In her sleep, Nesta turns over to clutch the other woman’s arm and mumbles something unintelligible.

Cassian props a pillow gently beneath her head and picks up another one, throwing it harder than he needs to at Azriel’s face. “Get up,” he hisses.

Az jerks out of his sleep, looking around the dim room in confusion. Cursing lowly, he pushes himself out of his seat and scrubs a hand through his hair. “What time is it?”

“Three.” Cassian pulls a comforter over Nesta and Emerie’s shoulders.

Az crouches and picks up the other side of the comforter, adjusting it over Gwyn’s body. Cassian thinks he might see a frown cross his face for half a second, but then Az is standing up and brushing off his clothes.

After turning off the TV, the guys head for their rooms. “I didn’t think three grown women could be so... much,” Az says as they climb up the stairs.

Cassian huffs a laugh. “We were like that when we were younger, too.”

“Yeah, but we were teenagers.”

They reach the hallway. “I don’t know about the others,” Cassian says thoughtfully, “but Nesta never got to be a normal kid.” She barely got to be a normal adult. And in a couple of short years, she’ll be working her ass off at some prestigious firm and won’t have time for simple things like sleepovers anymore.

Cassian selfishly hopes he can give Nesta all the normalcy he can before that happens.

***

a/n: i’m gonna do my best in future chapters to give cassian depth beyond just his relationship with nesta 🥴 but first, be on the lookout for a gwynriel bonus scene :)

tags: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara9 @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad

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Amoreena | chapter eleven

chapter eleven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: Y/N POV: details of what happened to Stephen, her grandmas cancer, and very detailed explanations of how babies are made (as biologically accurate and not very graphic as possible) this is an angsty trauma filled chapter that made me cry a lot just writing it so I'm sorry in advance

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

June 13th, 2010

There’s a knock on her parent's door at 4 in the morning, Y/N’s sound asleep on the couch back at her grandma’s, awoken by said grandmother as she hears all the noise beyond the porch. There are 2 cop cars at the main house, worry starts to settle over them.

She puts on a pair of shoes, taking her grandmother's hand in hers as they begin the early morning trek up the road, anxiety seeping in deeper and deeper as they get closer to the lights illuminating their driveway.

Her father is talking to an officer on the steps, her mother is crying behind him. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” the officer says and Y/N’s blood runs cold, numbing her from the impending despair.

“What happened?” Her grandmother asks, rubbing a hand along Y/N’s back in preparation for the worst.

“Evan was in a car accident,” her father says softly, knowing that Y/N knows Stephen was with him tonight. She breaks away from her grandma and without thinking she’s right in the officer's face.

“Which one of them died?”

“Ma’am,” it was never a good way to start the worst conversation of her life with that word or in that tone. She felt like a '40s housewife learning her husband wasn’t coming home from the war, only he wasn’t even her husband yet.

He would have been on next Saturday.

“I’m sorry, Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” he says the worst sentence she’s ever heard, and now she’ll never forget it. “The passenger side took the worst of it, once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

She’s surprisingly calm, managing to whisper, “thank you,” before she’s walking off into the field, pushing everyone's hands away as she travels as far as he feet will take her.

She ends up at the willow tree by the pond as soon as the sun is rising, it happened a lot earlier in June than the rest of the year. The birds singing, the wind blowing against the leaves making them carry a tune in harmony together. The world is still spinning, life is moving on, but how?

She sat there against the tree for a while, picking blades of grass and weaving them into a chain, soothing her brain as she makes a pattern. Giving her hands something to do so they stop going numb, it’s the only thing that really reminds her that she's real, that she’s controlling the twists and tucks, the shape and length and the fact that it was created at all.

Ending the life of the single blade of grass as she picks it, never to be whole again. Snatched from its happy place, where it grew loved and surrounded by other matching green strands as they blew in the wind.

Then she's pulling fist full after fist full of grass out of the dirt, her hands covered in mud as she shouts, throwing handfuls of grass and dirt towards the pond. The once blue water starting to turn cloudy; disrupted and upset with her anger as it swallows her weapons, but it doesn’t make her feel better. All she did was disrupt the earth, changing the way this once beautiful patch of land used to look. She couldn’t help but sob, realizing that she was like this field now and her beautiful green pasture was disrupted, overturned and ruined.

The life that flowed through her died along with the love of her life.

“Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” the words echo in her mind in a constant circle like she’s stuck in a tin can.

It starts to reverberate, getting louder and louder as the same 7 words all run around in her head. Bouncing off the walls, smacking her down again and again as she hears them over and over and over… she’s holding her hands on her ears, shaking back and forth, sobbing when she feels someone wrap their arms around her.

She doesn’t open her eyes, instead, she's rushing to push them off of her, struggling out of their grasp as she fights them. Finally, she loses, being held in her brother's embrace as they both cry, he barely has a scratch on him when she finally looks at him.

she’s never been physical in her life, but she punched him right in the face. Her twin brother, best friend in childhood and the person she’s known the longest in her life. He held her close in the womb, crying if they separated as soon as they were born, she loved him deeply and yet she hated him something fierce at that moment.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan cries, “we were stopped at a red light, Y/N!”

“I don’t care! He was supposed to be my husband!” She swats at him, smacking his arms again and again as he tries to hold them back, holding her so tightly as she basically screams bloody murder in the field.

All she can see is his face, her beautiful happy Stephen. The first time she ever saw him, standing under a street light in Boston, papers in his hand and wonder in his eyes. The way he looked up at her, the glow of the light making a halo glow over his head.

She should have known he was too good to be true. Always destined to return to the heavens, he was truly angelic with his big emerald eyes that were only the tiniest bit yellow on the edge of the pupil, the way her name sounded on his tongue like a blessing coming true.

They buried him 2 days after what was supposed to be their wedding. Disrupting another beautiful patch of earth to hide him away forever, she placed a single rose on his casket, she never said goodbye and she never planned to.

“See you later, superstar,” she patted the glossy black box once last time before sending him down into the earth.

—

September 2012

This fucking willow tree and 7-word sentences…

“What do you mean you have cancer?”

Her grandma let a tear slip from her eye, “I’ve got colon cancer, honey, the doctors said I have another 2 years, maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”

Every time someone sat beside her in this one spot, she learned the worst information in the world. Sure Evan didn’t mean to kill Stephen, doesn’t mean she’s talked to him at all in the last year. with Grandpa dying only a few summers back, her favourite house cat now buried in the yard, she can’t lose her grandma now too.

“Okay,” she starts to plan in her head, her eyes about ready to jump out of her skull as she tries to think of all the things they need to do before it’s too late, “let’s go to England, let’s blow my bank account, you can’t leave me without going to England with me? We were supposed to get tea and pretend to be the queen and princess?”

She couldn’t stop the tears, her whole body heaving as she sobbed into her grandma’s dress, “you can’t leave me too!”

“Your grandfather and I have a fund for you, you were the last baby we got to raise when your mom went back to work, I want you to use it for that baby we talked about,” her grandma’s voice is barely a whisper, softly getting the words over her vocal cords as the tears joined Y/N’s on her dress.

Without another word, she took her hand and walked home, getting in her car together and heading to the closest fertility clinic, she booked her first insemination for February, pre-paying for a round of IVF hormones and everything to start in January, she had 3 months to plan.

Finding the perfect donor was the only hard part. She had 3 different books to choose from with all the clinics in the DC area sharing 1 sperm bank. She finally made her decision 3 weeks before they were set to get her pregnant when they updated the books.

Sample 2319, male 30’s, healthy, high IQ, 6’1, brown eyes, brown hair (curly). “Sounds a lot like Stephen,” her grandma agreed, saying his name for the first time in over 2 years, she knew this was her guy.

—

June 14th, 2021

Peeing on a stick shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.

She hasn’t been this nervous since the first time Dr. Collins inseminated her. Laying back on the table at a weird elevation to make sure she got pregnant, her whole body tense as she thought of the possibilities of her future child.

Sample 2319 sitting in a cup not too far from her face as she prepared for a man she barely knew to put the semen of another man she didn’t know, inside her. She only picked this guy cause he was smart and tall, no health issues to report and the number made her think of Monsters Inc.

In her mind, she made a baby with a man she named mike wazowski, not knowing his real name was actually Spencer Reid and he was only just down the road at Quantico the whole time. It was the weirdest day ever, and then it became the second-best day of her life

Nothing could top holding her baby in her arms for the first time. Her grandma and mother beside her as they all cried, the perfect purple baby screaming on her chest as they tried to wipe the white gunk off her tiny body. her sweet little coos, seeing her swollen eyes open for the first time, the silence that overcame her as they made their first introduction to each other. Her little person, the love of her life, her wonderful Amoreena.

Her cry was perfect, like music to her ears she wanted to hear her little voice as long as she could because it meant she was alive and real. She was healthy and beautiful and the most perfect bundle of joy she could have ever made.

Now she was hiding in the bathroom to pee on a stick while her 7-year-old had breakfast in the next room. Oh, how times changed, but one thing remained the same, she was finding out alone again. Only this time she meant for that to happen, it was exactly 4 days since her period was supposed to start and it wasn’t there, neither was Spencer.

He had something to do that morning, but he’d be meeting them later that afternoon, it was Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten after all. She wanted time to either enjoy the thought of having another baby or cry in peace because for once it didn’t work, giving her a week to recover before trying again.

Amoreena was a miracle, the easiest IVF baby they ever made at the clinic, apparently. If she was pregnant this easily again it was a sure sign that he was Amoreena’s father too, only he could get her knocked up while not even trying.

She didn’t remember pregnancy tests taking this long, she flipped it over and walked out of the room, unable to think of anything else while she waited for 3 minutes to pass. Amoreena noticed she was being weird, studying her mother's movements as she paced the hall outside of the bathroom door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, curious as ever as she twirled lightly in her new princess dress.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Always mom, I’m the best secret keeper in all the kingdom, remember?” Amoreena smiled, holding onto her leg as she stared up at her.

“Your dad and I tried to make a baby,” she whispered, petting the litter hairs on her forehead as Amoreena looked up at her, her first little baby. “I’m waiting to find out if it worked, but we can’t tell anyone in case it didn’t, okay?”

Amoreena’s eyes were wider than she’s ever seen them, her mouth opened slowly as she understood the words in her mind. She didn’t look happy or surprised, nor upset or worried. She looked confused, “how?”

She laughed then, shaking her head as she lifted Amoreena into her arms, she would have to know soon anyway. “You know how every month mummy has a bad week where she bleeds and her tummy hurts?”

“Yeah?”

“When people with our parts grow up they make little tiny eggs but we don’t lay them like chickens do, they stay inside our tummies and wait to become babies and if they don’t we have a period and release all the stuff our bodies saved up that month to make a little person. You’ll have one soon too in a few years, probably when you're 12 like I was, and when people with a penis get old enough they’re able to help us make the babies like roosters help the chickens. Our bodies are really special and make some really cool things when we try to,” she explained it in the most simple farmhouse way she could.

“Like when the goats are all born in the spring and they just show up?” She tried to clarify, understanding it at the basic level.

“Kinda, you’ve seen the photos of you in my tummy and how aunty Shannon’s stomach grew when she had your cousins, I’ll get really big like that too if I’m pregnant, the baby will grow for 9 long months till they’re nice and healthy and then we’ll have another person in the family,” she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it.

“How do we find out?”

She opened the bathroom door then and carried Amoreena inside, setting her down on the sink and pointing at the upside-down test stick. “We create a special hormone when we’re pregnant, it’s something that can be detected in our pee!” she explained it like it was magic, watching her get excited instead of grossed out.

“So I peed on that stick and if it has 2 lines I have a baby in my tummy, if not then your dad and I have to try again.”

Amoreena picked up the test and looked at it, keeping it out of her mothers sight as she did so, “there’s two lines,” she lit up waving the stick lightly as she squealed.

Y/N wrapped her up in her arms and twirled her around, “you’re gonna be the best big sister ever!”

“How do we tell dad?” Amoreena’s soft voice whispered in her ear as she snuggled into her shoulder.

“I have an idea,” she whispered back before carrying her back into the kitchen.

Her All About Me project was sitting on the counter, ready for Y/N to drive her into school today. She set Amoreena down on the floor to watch her as she took some tape and taped the stick to the bottom corner of the project. “Pass me the marker, please?”

Amoreena ran to the counter to get it, coming back and placing it in her mom's hand before leaning in to watch what she was writing.

“I’m going to be a big sister sometime next February!” Amoreena read the words as her mother wrote them, unbelievably excited.

“Your dad can read that at the ceremony tonight!”

“I thought you said we can’t tell anyone yet?” Amoreena questioned her, like always.

“Your teacher can know, the other kids won't know what it means, it’s just important Spencer sees it, but we will wait to tell nanny and poppy, okay? Sometimes the babies don’t always stay, it’s sad so we keep it a secret until they’ve got a tiny little heartbeat in there,” she didn’t want to scare her, but she knew it was always a possibility.

“Then we try again,” Amoreena smiled, “It’ll be easier now that you don’t need Dr. Collins to help you, how did you even make me without Spencer?” She didn't use his real name often anymore, only in times when she wasn't referring to him as her father.

She sat down then, pulling Amoreena into her lap so she could hold her while she thought of the right words. “So we have eggs, but people with penises have something called sperm. When adults, and I mean adults you have to be at least 25 to have a baby it’s the rules,” she teased her slightly, ticking her arms.

“Adults have sex, babies are made when someone with a vagina and someone with a penis get together. But when you don’t have a partner with a penis to help, sometimes they’ll donate their sperm to the doctor's offices to help people like me make their perfect little families all by themselves.”

“Interesting,” is all her little mind can say, she has learned so much in one day, Y/N was surprised she was still listening and surprisingly still for once. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We won't know for a while,” she smiled, holding Amoreena closer to her chest. “How do you feel about all this?”

Amoreena was quiet as she thought about it, “is Spencer the guy who gave the doctors the sperm for me?”

“We think so, but we don’t know, why?”

Amoreena looked at her softly, “it wouldn’t be fair, I know he said I don’t need a father but why do they get to have him for both?”

“I think Spencer is your father, you’re just as smart and wonderful as he is, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re his baby too. but if you want to know if he isn't, when you turn 18 the doctors will tell you who it is, it's completely up to you to find out,” she whispered, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks as Amoreena tried to wipe them away.

"I like thinking he's my father, so he is." Her mind worked in the most wonderful way. Y/N couldn’t help but hold her close as she lightly cried, “I had a dream yesterday that I had 8 sisters,” her voice was so soft and innocent as her tiny hand cupped her mother's cheek.

She gasped lightly at the words, remembering Spencer’s panic in the middle of the night last night, how scared he was to leave her all alone with 9 babies and no one to help her. They knew something that she didn’t yet, cheaper by the dozen seemed less like a dream and more like a prophecy.

“I’m so happy to make your dream come true,” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’m happy, the baby just makes me emotional.”

Amoreena placed her hand on her tummy then, “I love you, baby.”

Y/N stuck her tummy out as far as she could, “I love you too, big sister,” she said in a funny voice to make Amoreena laugh, leaning back in the chair as she held her.

And just like that, getting pregnant with Amoreena was bumped into 3rd place for the best day of her life. Sharing the moment with her and no one else was perfect, insuring she knew that she was just as important moving forward as the little person she was growing this time.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 let me know if you would like to be added as well!!

[shadyteacup]

Not me falling in love with Mei Mei today~

Mei Mei x gn! Reader , fluff♡

Truth Or Dare?

You were currently at a party organized by Gojo Satoru. His friends along with his colleagues and students were invited. You weren't one who enjoyed most of his parties, but you had showed up because of a certain someone you've had an eye on since forever.

Everyone was seated on a large circular sofa, drinks in hand. Light chatter along with some casual jazz set the mood of the room. Dim lights and sparkling gowns added to the elegant aura. The men were dressed in expensive suits, and the women were flaunting their curves in extravagant dresses.

Anybody would've been flattered by the amount of money that was spent on this occasion. But not you. You weren't fazed by any of that. Neither the sparkling chandelier nor the flirty words of the person sitting next to you flattered you. Your eyes were trained on the beauty seated opposite to you. You were going to try your best to woo her, tonight.

"Ah, how about a refreshing game of truth or dare, everybody?"

Gojo spoke over the sounds of the music, catching everyone's attention. He smirked, his sparkling blue eyes holding an ever present mischief.

A couple of groans were heard, but then again, Gojo's only supporter, Yuuji, exclaimed excitedly, "Sounds fun!"

An empty bottle of beer was promptly placed on the center table, and soon everyone was taking turns spinning it.

"The rules are simple!", Gojo explained, "If the narrow end of the bottle faces you, you must choose whether you want to play truth, or dare. The person on the broader end, must decide your fate."

You sighed at his over exaggeration.

"Everyone gets a chance to turn the bottle, to ensure a fair spin!"

The guy next to you finally stopped trying to flirt his way into your pants, paying attention to the game instead.

The bottle spun and spun, only to land facing Mei Mei. The broader end faced Yuuji.

"I'll go with truth.", she said, flicking her long hair behind.

"Um.. Is it true that you only do something if you have money to gain?"

You mentally scream at Yuuji's rude question.

"Well, it is partially true."

Everyone looked at her, confusion evident on their faces.

"There is only one thing I'd do for free."

She said, smirking.

Yuuji blinked at her, curiosity brimming in his eyes.

"And what is that?", he asked.

"Ah, that, you'll get to know the next time you spin the bottle."

The mystery about Mei Mei always drew you in. She was such a beautiful puzzle. And you wanted to solve it. You wanted to be the one holding her at night. You wanted to be the first thing she saw when she woke up.

She was the reason you agreed to attend this stupid party.

A few more rounds were played. Now, it was your turn to spin the bottle. You took in a deep breath, determined to spin it in such a manner, that Mei Mei was at the receiving end, and you at the questioning end.

The bottle spun rapidly, making full circles, until it started slowing down. It inched on, landing to face Mei Mei. You were about to congratulate yourself, until you realized that the broad end wasn't facing you. You internally panicked. This was one of your only chances to get to know her better. And you had gone ahead and screwed it up.

You sighed, looking away.

"I suppose I'll go with truth once again.", Mei Mei said.

A few seconds of silence followed.

"Well, Y/N chan, aren't you going to ask me my question?"

Your head snapped up, confusion clouding your mind.

Your gaze shifted to the bottle, to find it facing you.

You panicked, blurting out a random question.

"Oh! Um.. What is that one thing that you'd do for free?"

You mentally face palmed yourself. Of all the things you could have said, this is what you ended up saying? How stupid-

"I'd do you for free."

You choked on your spit, trying to breathe. Did she just... Did you hear her correctly?

Mei Mei giggled at your dumbfound expression. She winked at you.

"If you're interested, Y/N chan, come home with me, tonight."

.....bonus.....

"You turned the bottle, didn't you, Gojo sensei?"

Maki said, leaning on the balcony's fence.

Maki, Panda, Nobara and Yuuji were hanging around to help their sensei clean up after the party was over. They were currently enjoying the scenic view of the city lights from the balcony, chilling.

"Hah? I didn't do anything! We all saw the bottle spin, didn't we?"

Gojo said, facing his students.

"Oh please, we saw how the bottle tilted abnormally at the end. You used your jujutsu to shift it towards Y/N."

Nobara countered.

Gojo simply smirked.

"Well, it was all for the good. The sexual tension between the two was becoming unbearable."

Panda chipped in.

"What sexual tension?", Yuuji asked, confused.

They all laughed at his ignorance.

"I always do what's right.", Gojo said, winking at his students.

Okay, so maybe I fell in love with her for a few minutes and wrote this fic during that time... haha, I'm out of love already😛

Tagging:

@anarchy-black-cat @707xn @evalynanne @b-i-t-t-i-e-s @kuraxmasha @syynnaaah  @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan-account @alittlesimp @greenshirtimagines @paradise-creator @kiyokoxd @ranposlover @the-foreigner @sakikoshi@h3xa413a @sukunas-cult-leader @ilOvedaydreaming @del1111 @craftypeachmoneyhound @notquitehereorthere @mikasa-stan-account @kenmasbbygrl @alphaofdarkness @duhsies @cees-sims @the-foreigner @uglapuglamuglafugla @sugarandsoft @jadegreenimmortality @flanelsantito @shiny84244 @one-hell-of-otaku-is-here @missrown @requiem626k @sukunas-cult-leader @ilovedaydreaming @roserosie05 @mikasa-stan

[emilyoftheshadows]

Deja Vu

Hi! so this is a one-shot based off of olivia rodrigo's new song deja vu. It took a little longer than I thought to write, but here it is in all its questionable glory. Of course it is rowaelin because what else endgame couple would I write lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

wordcount// 1838

*****

Aelin felt sick to her stomach as she stared at her phone. The bright screen illuminated the disarray she had created around her. The bed covers were thrown recklessly around Aelin’s mattress, a package of half eaten oreos shoved between the twisted sheets. Bottles of alcohol were towered on the floor and nightstand, creating a maze that she had to maneuver around every time she left the softness of her bed. Tears stained Aelin 's cheeks, the sadness inside of her spilling out everytime she even thought of him. How his touch felt on her skin or how his lips used to kiss her forehead in comfort.

But all of that was over for her. Because he didn’t need her. Her love and her own problems only held him back, and Aelin knew it. She was a stain in Rowan’s perfect new life, and she would die before she let herself be the reason for any sadness he experienced.

So here she was, 6 months and 9 days after she had broken up with him. His face had been scrunched up in confusion, his emerald eyes glistening with tears as she had said her goodbyes. Aelin knew the breakup had hit him hard, but she consoled herself with the thought that once he got over their relationship, he would be free to live his dreams. Aelin would no longer be the unnecessary tether holding him back from his full potential.

Rowan had moved soon after the couple had ended university, taking a high end job at Maeve’s Publishing Co. in Doranelle. He had met his people, The Cadre as they were known to the locals. Working with his new team, Rowan had formed an unbreakable bond with the men he spent so much of his time with. As much as Rowan had found his new home in Doranelle, the opposite could be said for Aelin.

She had opted to stay in Rifthold, accepting her own high end job at Hamel Hotels working as their Brand Manager. At first, the glitz of the hotels and fast paced life had been exhilarating. That was until she had learned her boss was a demanding misogynist and occupied her time with insane projects and endless demands.

Her sour demeanor matched Rowan's exuberance head for head, and every visit she could see the concern etched in that beautiful face deepen with time. But when she went to visit Rowan in Doranelle, all Aelin saw was a makeshift family that he would have forever. The Cadre was working their way up in the publishing world, becoming an unstoppable force and you could practically feel the excitement buzzing throughout Rowan.

It was then when he was surrounded by his men eager for their future, that Aelin knew that she was a distraction. A miserable self loathing girlfriend who was holding him back from immersing himself into this new opportunity. So she took herself out of the picture, doing whatever was necessary to make sure he moved on from her.

She stopped answering his texts, let his endless calls go to voicemail, and unfollowed him on every social media site she had. After the third month, he finally stopped calling her everyday. The month after that, he stopped texting her. Although Aelin wanted this, she couldn’t help but be sad when she stopped getting his streams of i miss yous and hearts.

Aelin had gotten herself a dog after the breakup, focusing all her misguided love and intentions into the white beast that ate all her shoes and furniture. Using his pictures, she made an account for him and used this new anonymous account to stalk Rowan and his Cadre, plus the girl that used to occasionally join the men on their outings. Lyria was Maeve’s assistant and had been through just as much hell as they did, dealing with their bosses' incessant needs. Because of this, the crew often invited her out to the bars as a way to unwind from long days of work, sharing funny mishaps and complaining about Maeve together.

She told herself it was just to check up on him, to make sure he was okay, but she knew deep down that she could never fully separate herself from Rowan. This account was her only link to him, and as shady as it was, Aelin would be damned before she ever gave up the chance to get a glimpse into his life.

But as she focused on her phone, all previous thoughts for Rowan’s wellbeing flew out of her head. Because on Fleetfoot’s instagram feed, Lyria had posted a picture. The scene was innocent enough to any other person looking at it. She sat outside, the sun filtering in through the trees in the background of the photo. On the small table in front of her sat one cup of strawberry ice cream, a spoon poking out of the top of the scoop creating the picture perfect image. Her delicate hand with its perfectly manicured fingers grasped a tan hand almost twice the size of hers, emphasizing her petite features.

But that hand is what stopped Aelin in her tracks. Because as she looked at the post again, that hand led her to the face she adored most in the world. All too fast, she was consumed by his emerald green eyes, a hint of mischief shining in their center. His silver hair reflected the light around him, giving Rowan an ethereal glow as he posed for the camera. Other than slight dark circles under his eyes, he looked perfectly content. A soft smile graced his features and his clothes showed no clear stains or rumpled appearance.

Rowan was okay. He was absolutely fine. And Aelin was not.

Because whether he realized it or not, Rowan had recreated their own first date. As awkward college freshmen, the couple had gone to a family owned ice cream shop run by a friendly old man Emrys. They would return to that ice cream shop at least once a week after that first date, getting to know the owner and his partner Malaki. They had gotten strawberry ice cream, and Rowan had only asked for one spoon, insisting that he could just feed her himself whenever she wanted a bite. The buzzard didn’t even like sweets as much as she did, only wanting to make her suffer. They had sat on a bench outside the restaurant, laughing at how silly they both were and enjoying their newfound relationship. That memory used to always bring a smile to Aelin’s face, causing nostalgia for a simpler time in their lives. Looking at this recreation on her phone though, all Aelin wanted to do was scream in his face for how careless he was with their past.

That moment should belong to them, and them only. Her vision became blurred with tears, the image of his face distorting in front of her. All she could feel was a pit opening up inside her, clawing its way through her body until all she felt was numb. Her tears stopped running down her face, her hands stopped shaking, and she could finally breathe again. But Aelin no longer felt heartbroken for the bird boy who had made her dreams come true. No, all she felt was curiosity. A curiosity for whether or not he got deja vu when he was with her.

---

Rowan sat on his couch, staring at the photo in front of him. He had gotten back from his date with Lyria a couple of hours ago, guilt crashing over him every time he looked at her. Because Lyria wasn’t the woman that made his heart soar or his bones ache when he wasn’t near her. No, that feeling only belonged to his fireheart. The woman who could apparently no longer stand his presence in her life.

Aelin had broken up with him abruptly, pushing him away when he knew she needed him the most. Rowan wasn’t blind, he could see how unhappy she was in Rifthold. Arobynn Hamel was a pervert at best and Aelin deserved to have something or someone good in her life. And he thought he could be that someone, he really did. Rowan had already put in his two week notice to Maeve with hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket. He would do anything to make Aelin happy, and nothing would ruin them, not even the job of his dreams.

But apparently, they weren’t on the same page. Because when he had gone to visit her in Rifthold, ready to offer his life to her, she had crushed his spirits in less than 5 minutes. He had flown back home, but Rowan never figured out why she felt the urge to end their relationship. The lack of closure and the loss of the other half of his soul led him to ruins. For months he texted and called everyday, hoping that she would open up to him about her pain. But Aelin never answered. And she never texted. Next thing Rowan knew, he had stopped trying all together.

The Cadre did all they could to comfort him, but none of them were even close to understanding the aching pain he felt in his heart everyday. Lyria was the only one who could stand his somber demeanor, choosing to spend her breaks near his desk and chit chatting about office gossip during the slow days. At first, the distraction had been nice. But somewhere along the line, Lyria had become more serious about Rowan than he cared to admit.

Now here he was, with an almost-kind-of-talking-maybe-dating situationship that he didn’t understand even started. He mistook her friendliness for just that--friendship. But he also hadn’t stopped her. Deep down, Rowan knew that he was using Lyria, but he couldn’t help but keep the facade going on. Because if he was left alone again, Rowan didn’t think he would ever leave his apartment.

The nights were the worst, where he was alone with his endless thoughts, his regrets, his tears. The past 6 months had been rough, and if this was how he had to pick himself up again then so be it. Aelin sure as hell didn’t want him anymore and Rowan had to come to terms with it whether he liked it or not.

But still, sitting with his phone propped up in his hand, staring at his own face and the scoop of light pink ice cream in front of him, Rowan’s mind wandered to a simpler time. A time where they would be on a bench outside their infamous ice cream spot instead of the random ice cream parlor downtown. A time where Rowan’s eyes would be shining brighter staring into the deepest blue he had ever seen. A time where his fireheart would be taking that picture instead of the woman he strung along like a puppy dog.

Imagining his own heaven in his head combined with the bitter reality around him, Rowan felt a momentary sense of deja vu.

*****

Tag list 

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading  

@live-the-fangirl-life

[yazthebookish]

I read this interesting post that talks about, despite being mates, Feyre and Rhys aren’t equal. I completely agree with it. Power wise, they are equal but literally everything else they are far from equal. Another thing that I realize was that no one, and I do mean no one in the NC, never took the time to tell Feyre the truth about anything.

Except for Nesta about the baby thing. But I would choose Nesta over any other NC member any day. This even goes down to Elain when she said that Nesta just thinks about herself which has some truth and false in it. Feyre thought it was unfair how Elain told the truth to Nesta only which saids A LOT about Elain and Feyre relationship.

Nesta pointed out how Elain & her was closer. It’s even shown in the book when Elain talked about Nesta loving music and dance. Then you have Feyre over here like “i fOrGoT aBouT HeR DaNcInG”. She conveniently remembers things to help herself.

I want to pity Feyre but I don’t because she has the power to take back the respect that should have been given from the jump. But she gives out excuses for everyone that has done her wrong. I want her to start holding people accountable for how they treated her. And give out some damn consequences.

I was rather disappointed in Feyre in ACOSF. I did not hate her at all but I was extremely disappointed in her character. It makes me nervous on how Feyre is going to act in the remaining books. Especially with a child because she, herself is young and probably looked at as a child in some readers eyes. She hasn’t experiencED life but rather experiencING life and I hope she does her best. I do have faith in her, that faith being the size of a popcorn kernal, that she will demand how people treat her , accept nothing less and won’t hesitate to snap on someone.

Okay this is a controversial opinion but I'll stick by my personal thoughts about this because you do make good points and there are some points I disagree with.

But she gives out excuses for everyone that has done her wrong. I want her to start holding people accountable for how they treated her. And give out some damn consequences.

Feyre, I would say, is not someone that holds grudges. Yes I do wish she held Rhys accountable for UTM even if he had "noble reasons" we should've saw displays of guilt from him throughout ACOMAF or atleast both of them discuss it.

The power dynamic is tricky between Rhys and Feyre. The Suriel says they are equals and Feyre has the powers of all the High Lords combined (not their full powers but a kernel of it, she has access to all of them). Rhys made her High Lady because he has the authority to, but if Rhys dies how does the Night Court's powers shift from him to someone? What if they don't shift to Feyre in that case but goes to Keir for example? That isn't really explained so I won't delve deeply into it. It's not really explained or shown to us, but as far as the canon(SJM) goes, they are considered equals.

I did not dislike Feyre in ACOSF, not at all. I felt bad for her and my heart broke for the devastating birth she went through. I guess this is SJM's way of trying to hold back Feyre and Rhys but still managed to keep the spotlight on them by giving them a pregnancy plot, in a Nessian book 😅

I think Feyre would enjoy being a mother, she loved Nyx even before she got pregnant. She longed to see him. I think she will get to experience life the way she wants to. Some of my friends are mothers (were mothers in their early 20's) it was their choice and while it's true motherhood is a huge responsibility, they still enjoy whatever life offers. Remember that they're immortal and Nyx will not remain a baby forever. He'll grow up.

Again, I can't lose respect for someone that doesn't want to hold any grudges. Feyre isn't someone that would resent someone for long periods of time. Her sisters let her hunt since she was 14 on her own and barely helped her. She forgave them because she loves them and wants to move on. I can't fault her for that after everything she went through.

[hoom]

Do you think John needed to be taken by Mimi away from Julia in the first place? I have never understood if Julia’s living conditions were that bad and if she really was that irresponsible that Mimi had to take over.

Oh, anon, this is such a complex answer because what Social Services thinks is best for a child, might not always be what is best for a child (speaking from personal experience).

However, while it was clear for everyone that Julia adored her little boy, by several accounts from 1940 to 1947, she rarely prioritized his well-being; constantly going out partying and leaving John with his grandfather/Mimi; living in a one bed apartment with John and Bobby Dykins (where John might have had a precocious exposure to Julia’s sex life); and her pregnancy in 1945 always disturbed me because 4-year-olds are not stupid... how much did the surrounding adults care to shield him from such a messed up situation and how much did they think he wouldn’t understand? I mean, John, of all kids, simply didn’t remember/miss his mother’s huge belly? Also, by Mimi’s account, a 4/5yr old John used to walk the distance from his mother’s house to Mimi’s by himself (because he didn’t like Dykins and the feeling was mutual). A little boy was out in the street by himself, and his mother didn’t immediately take notice? That’s extremely concerning even from a 40s perspective.

With all that said, one can easily see why Mimi was outraged by the situation and called in the City Council. I find it curious nothing happened in the first attempt—maybe they saw how close and loving John and Julia were and didn’t see a problem there?—but the second time “worked”, and John was finally Mimi’s to keep. Her obsession with having John for herself always put me off, but with her and Uncle George (god bless you, George), John’s physical and intellectual (Mimi was an incredibly well-read woman and John would read art books by the time he was 10!) well-being would always be the priority, and the stability they provided him was so significant that it would also become John’s primary concern in personal/romantic relationships. Mimi took care of everything so John (or the people who should have given a shit about him) would never have to worry about anything... sound familiar?

But you’re also in a crossroads because, as much as a child needs stability to thrive, they also need love and affection. Uncle George was the next best thing after a father’s love, and reading about him and John always warms my heart. His role as John’s emotional caregiver has always been overlooked by practically every single biographer out there, and the impact of his death—when John was 14, a formative age—has been greatly underestimated. Am I supposed to believe John, who wore his uncle’s jacket way into university and supposedly even brought it into the Dakota, just didn’t care? Of course, nothing compares to a mother’s love, and for John, life would forever about coping with the relationship he and Julia never had. His quotes about how they caught up so much in so little time, the accounts from Julia Baird’s book that showcase how John and his mom were essentially best friends, and, god, he was finally having his mother’s love and support for his band and everything he did, while also having Mimi to come home to, and then Julia is killed. Not only his beloved mother now but also his best friend, is run over in front of his house and John decides there and then that he can’t have shit in his life, and whenever gets something close to a mother’s “unconditional” love, he’s going to cling to it with everything he has.

Would this all be different if John had stayed with Julia? Most likely. Bobby Dykins was always the main issue between them and, ultimately, Julia chose her boyfriend. I mean, they soon had two daughters and bigger house, so why didn’t Julia take her son back (whom she desperately missed)? Mimi probably said “over her dead body”, and Dykins said “he’s not my son”, and that was it. Besides disturbing his precious stability, would it be wise to send John to live in a house where his mother was often the victim of domestic violence that resulted in screams and bloody noses? Probably not. John was a kid who prided himself on not having had that discipline parents instilled on their children, but he always resented and sought to disturb his friends’ peaceful home life by making them choose him, not their mommies and daddies. However, I think that the way things were going before Julia died was just fine, and that maybe he could’ve achieved some kind of normalcy in that arrangement by learning how to separate his need for unconditional love vs. stability. Maybe he would’ve realized that genuine love doesn’t equal a parent’s love. We’ll just never know.

[crystalirises]

Look at What We Have Here

Prompt: Fundy confides in either Quackity, Wilbur, Phil, Dream or Eret about his prophetic dreams, thinking he could trust them and get some help, but his trust was misplaced as they start to manipulate and use Fundy for his powers to ensure their own dominion over the SMP

I didn't choose Quackity because man deserves a break even though if it's gonna be anyone of these people in canon, Quackity would be like second on my list. I chose Wilbur because... I love Villain Wilbur even though I know canonically he probably wouldn't do this and is actually just second to the last on the list. Phil is... I doubt he would tbh, unless they need an oracle??? He's third on the list but he falls under unlikely to do it. Dream... is in prison... but if he did get out and Fundy can predict the future... yeah, he's number one on my list XDDD. Eret is last because they would never.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34916737/chapters/87440530

“You look like shit.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, asshole.”

Fundy didn’t want to make room, but he reluctantly moved to one side of the bench.

Wilbur sat down, taking up most of the space. He always knew how to make Fundy feel small.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? I’m not surprised. Heard your old man was back and decided to look for my nearest enemy? Typical Fundy.” He felt anger rise in his chest, only to deflate once he realized it wouldn’t do him any good. Wilbur will forever see him as a traitor. Any counter would just assure Wilbur that he was right. So, even if Fundy wanted to tell him that Quackity had sought him out, that Quackity had wanted him, he kept quiet. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, tail wrapping around him as a small comfort. He looked away from Wilbur, hoping the man would just leave. After a few seconds of silence though, “Fine… what’s wrong with you?”

So many fucking things. For one, Wilbur was fucking back and had gone months without looking for Fundy. Second, he was working his ass off at Quackity’s new place. Third, he had a child who he found in the gods damn forest. Fourth, he hadn’t been sleeping for three fucking days. And lastly, he’s been having some weird nightmares which has stopped him from sleeping. He could have said any of those things. Instead, he gritted his teeth and gave Wilbur a smile.

“I’m great.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Fun-fucking-tastic.”

For a moment, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of worry in Wilbur’s eyes. “Fundy…”

He was doing it. That stupid voice that his dad would use each time he knew Fundy was hiding something from him. Usually, it was just a bar of chocolate or a broken vase. But that was another life… Fundy felt helpless against it. He was an adult, a grown ass man. But hearing that voice made him feel like a child again. He took a deep breath, “I’ve been having nightmares…”

--- 

‘Our family is blessed…’

That was what Phil had told him once.

Fundy was talking about his dreams, and though Wilbur was paying attention, a plan was formulating in the back of his mind. Of course, his twin brother was the one obsessed with books and mythologies. Wilbur had been interested… before. Fundy’s accounts… these nightmares… they sounded similar to the ancient stories he’d heard of oracles. He tried to look sympathetic… and… he was… he was sympathetic. His son was hurting, that much could be seen. He didn’t know the power he wielded, but Wilbur did. He could help Fundy with them. Use him them.

He was broken out of thoughts when Fundy had burst into hysterics. He reached out to grasp Fundy by the arm, the poor boy nearly falling off the bench. Wilbur hummed - a broken tune that had no direction or melody - as he pulled Fundy closer to himself. Poor thing was terrified. He could feel the pricks of tears against his sweater, the small tremors running through Fundy’s body made his fingers shake. Wilbur found it hard to continue humming as he continued to hold onto his tearful son. He hesitated… but began to run a hand through his son’s hair, petting his ears gently like he used to do when Fundy was younger. “Wil… Wil… I’m scared for my life.”

He smiled. Two birds with one stone, he supposed. “It’s alright, my little champion. Dad’s here.”

=============================================================

and just

add a sprinkle of dadbur in there--- *gets bonked*

[kojinnie]

tis is ranon! i wanna try the twisted match-up eventho it'll probably hurts. my worst traits would be

1. Not knowing myself well enough, having to ask others how i actually am from their eyes instead of looking through my own lense because I care of other's judgement better than mine.

2. I suck at handling compliment. Everytime anybody says anything good about me, I always get defensive by saying no, change the topic of the conversation, or saying "thank you, but [insert why i don't deserve compliment]"

3. Similar to the 2nd one, I have horrible horrible self esteem. I never really look at myself in a good light, I think I am horrible. Sometimes I feel like "im the worst" yet some of the times I feel like "woah I'm a queen". Even worse, sometimes I don't have the motivation to better myself in order to raise my self esteem.

My favourite(s) would be reiner and jean, you can choose the one with the worst(or whoever you prefer) compatibility with my traits. tears up already as I slip 1 dollar to your hand, whispering happy ending please..

Pairing: Jean x Reader

Summary: You accidentally meet Jean, your high school sweetheart, thirteen years later. While he has turned into a successful man whose face you'd see on TV a lot, you think of your life and what could have been with him, if only...

Tags: Angst/Fluff, coming of age, slice of life

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: Oh Ranon my sweet child, hereby I present to thee... hopefully an antidote to the despair Yams had given us with 138. Hope you like it love!

Song mentioned: Linger by The Cranberries

"It's nice to see a familiar face 'round here."

There was no word that could describe the feelings you had upon hearing that voice. A voice that was once the first sound you hear in the morning and the one you say goodbye to before falling asleep. A voice that you had not heard for what felt like forever.

You didn't have to turn around to tell who it was, "Jean?"

The two of you erupted in laughter, both surprised by the mere coincidence of meeting each other at this old and ran-down department store, on the outskirt of the town you both grew up in.

Jean was quick to pull you into a big embrace that you gladly came into. A familiar piece of warmth was his hug, and yet it had struck you as odd that it did not feel foreign at the closest, although it had been years since the last time you met him.

Jean had grown very tall. There was no longer his signature undercut as he had let his hairs to grow past his ear. His chiseled jaw hid beneath dark brown beard he now had. You pretended to check him out and be shocked with the view, "You really grew! Like grew, GREW!" as if you hadn't seen him on the news station or the daily mail. As if you didn't follow his Instagram with your second account. As if you never thought of him at all.

He held your shoulder and pulled away to look at you, "Thirteen years and you don't look any different."

Your face grew hot and the compliment sent an uncanny discomfort to your guts, "Ah the lighting sucks here - to my advantage, fortunately."

There was a disapproving look in Jean's eyes for a passing moment before he carried on with the conversation. He didn't expect to see you at the old department store the two of you used to roam in after school, he said. Neither did you to ever meet him again, especially here. A place so awfully ordinary for someone who had grown to be the best version of himself. Jean had finally achieved his dream to be a household name in the country as one of the rising young attorneys.

The celebrity status he had achieved, all the actresses and models he had dated - it all inflicted you with some kind of inexplicable pain. One that made you feel worthless, to say the least. Someone who used to be so close to your heart, had grown so magnificently, leaving you with the painful fate of being ordinary. Yet, still your face lit up in distant pride each time a mention of Jean’s name surfaced, be it from the passing conversation your friend had, or to see it announced by the news anchor for some big public case he was working on.

Jean said that he returned home for a funeral. His uncle died, and he needed a spare sandal. He didn't know any other store, as the area both of you grew up in had changed a lot. Leaving this old department store the only place he could remember.

You passed your condolence but he was more curious with what you were up to. You chuckled because he seemed so serious when he asked, "Didn't you move out to the city? Why the hell are you coming back?" as if the misplacement of seeing someone so glitzy in this boring, dilapidated town didn't apply to him.

So you answered, and Jean turned silent for a moment. He tilted his head downward, and you noticed that he was the same person with the same mannerism. Although he was no longer the 17-year-old boy who used to get all ruffed up in school fight, trying to defend you from some stupid jocks; nor was he still the tall, lanky kid from your Home Economics class that you gave your first kiss to.

Your mind couldn’t help but to race to all the what-ifs, and the presence of Jean before your eyes right now only made the wonderings more palpable.

Jean smiled faintly to your answer, “Congratulations,” he still made his way to pat the side of your head, something he used to do every time, “big step, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s scary.”

“So, who’s the lucky guy? Anyone I know from school?” Jean said, faking the enthusiasm in his tone, but you didn’t notice. Because in your mind, it would be an absurd idea to think that you would still have the tiniest bit of effect on Jean, for he had outgrown all the memories he ever had with you.

“No, no,” you tried to mask the bitterness that suddenly emerged on the back of your tongue, “we met at work. He’s a great guy.”

Indeed, he was. The reason why you returned home was because you were getting married, and your fiancée wanted to be close with your family, for he didn’t have one growing up. He was an exceptional man, he had this magnetism in him, with the way he perceived things, to the abiding tenacity he had in him.

Your fiancée was a man you knew you could lean on in the eye of adversity. That’s why you agreed to marry him. But then again, there was always a void inside your heart that had no resolve to it for so many years. Your fiancée was your foundation, and yet, perhaps selfishly, you still yearned for the childish laughter and the irreplaceable feeling of freedom you once had with the man standing tall before you. Whose glance never failed to make you feel the most at ease with.

“He must be a pretty great guy to get you,” Jean’s faint smile grew into a grin, he was trying to down play the commotion he started to feel within his chest, “what’s his name? So, I can picture him.”

You laughed, because it was only natural for you to do so in the presence of the first guy you had fallen for, the first guy to ever told you how pretty you were and how all your imperfections never mattered to him, the first one to bring your teary face into his embrace after a gruesome day, before saying, ‘I never thought it’s possible. But, crazy, seeing you cry hurts me too.’

However, you knew, that all those memories had passed by and you were happy with where you were now. “Reiner,” you smiled at the mention of his name, “my fiancée’s name is Reiner Braun. He’s… amazing.”

“Wow. Tough name. Probably someone I’d stay clear from in high school.”

Both of you laughed, and the two of you continued to talk, as you walked him through the desolated alleys to find the sandal that he wanted to buy, and Jean walking you to the towel aisle that you had meant to buy one for Reiner, only to find out that they had stopped selling towels since long time ago. The laughter and reminiscing persisted until the cashier row when Jean heard your stomach grumble. Both of you exchanged glances and broke into yet another laughter.

“Salerno’s?” Jean said, suggesting the pizza place off the highway, where you had spent so many dates with him back then.

“How could I ever say no to that?”

“Settled, then. Did you drive here?” Jean’s eyes gazed afar to the parking lot, strangely looking for the old car you used to drive back in school, before realizing that thirteen years had passed and there was no chance that sickly car could ever survive the time.

“No, actually Reiner dropped me and—” As if staged by the universe, your phone rung and Reiner was calling, “—right in time, it’s him!”

You walked away from Jean for a moment as he looked for his car key inside jacket. Across the line, Reiner was gruntling, his voice was hazy, “Babe—”

“Reiner, I bumped into an old friend!” there was a sing-songy tone in your words. Through the phone, Reiner chuckled, picking up the excitement in your voice, even though it was getting more apparent that Reiner was drowsy, “Anyway babe, can you get an Uber? I took the cough syrup your mum gave me, and now I’m sleepy as fuck. ‘Fraid I won’t be able to drive.”

You turned to Jean and saw him jingling his car key at you, before returning back to Reiner on the phone, “Rei, I think my friend can drive me home. I’ll be stopping at Salerno’s, do you want anything? The calzone maybe?”

Reiner yawned, “That sounds nice but—” yet another yawn, “I’m gonna pass out. Come home soon, okay? Tuck me in.”

You cackled at the buff man whining before you said goodbye and followed Jean into his car.

The trip to Salerno’s was nourishing with memories. The poplar trees along the avenue had been replaced by lines of billboards – from advertisement of real estate agent to divorce attorney, they all reminded you of how much the town had changed. Yet the sense of comfort you shared with Jean as you joked about all of the absurd things you saw along the way, had not changed at all.

If for one second you forgot that you were driving in Jean’s expensive car, and that you imagined he was wearing a shabby soccer jersey instead of a tailored-fit shirt – if you closed your eyes and thought that thirteen years hadn’t gone by between the two of you, it almost felt like you rode a time machine to a time when Jean was yours and you were his. And something about the thought of it just broke your heart.

When Jean pulled over at Salerno’s and found out that it’s past the time for dine-in, the two of you decided to eat at his car instead. Jean didn’t even ask what you want and he returned with exactly what you had in mind, the classic calzone, something you always used to have. He remembered.

The two of you laughed, bantered and joked at each other. It felt almost as if no distance had ever been laid out between the two of you, like you hadn’t lived an entirely different life, like he was the same person after all. He hadn’t once made you self-conscious like you thought you would, considering the amount of success he had attained for himself. You felt bad for accusing Jean of the worst, when all it was just a projection of your own insecurity.

“So, you’re getting married on the 15th, and your annoying aunt is not invited?”

“Yeah, thank God for the pandemic somehow. Legit excuse, when all I wanted was not to have her talk shit about Reiner on my wedding day,” you munched through your calzone, talking mindlessly, “as for you, sir, you’re invited. That’s a no-brainer. Hereby I invite thee to my humble dwelling. Bring your model girlfriend, please, so I can brag to my cousins.”

His grin subsided into a weak smile and then into nothing at all, as he sipped on his coke. Suddenly awkward silence loomed within the small space of his car.

“Jean,” you shifted in your seat as the guilt grew on you, realizing the error in your judgment, “sorry I was being presumptuous.”

“No worries, it wasn’t serious. None of it ever was.”

You nodded, engulfed in your own guilt for bringing a bad topic up. The silence let the radio’s murmur to become noticeable, and an old song had just been played through the local radio, a tune that you used to listen with him on the back of your old creaking car after a make-out session filled with enraging teenage hormones.

And I’m in so deep~

You know I’m such a fool for you~

You got me wrapped around your finger I—

Do you have to let it linger?

You sighed and finally looked at Jean with his head hanging low, “Do you want to settle down someday?”

“Eventually.” Jean answered nonchalantly, “Not even sure about the whole relationship thingy.”

“Oh.” An acknowledgment you voiced, before succumbing to yet another silence.

Jean called your name softly and when you turned to face him, he was looking at you. Even in the darkness of the parking lot, you could see his honey eyes gleamed in a look that was so familiar to you—a look of disappointment, “Tell me, how could you never end up working where you’ve always wanted to be?”

You were pulled even deeper into your silence as you looked away. Suddenly a hot rash of sadness started to swallow you whole, “I—”

You tried to voice out a tangible reason, but you had realized that all of it was your own doing. Your insecurity, your self-consciousness, the thought that you were never good enough for the thing you once wanted so bad; all of it led to a life unlived, and to have someone finally putting you in your place was embarrassing, if not painful, “—wasn’t sure if I really wanted it and—”

“—wasn’t sure if I was good enough to pass the test.”

“So, after college, you never ended up applying there? Not even a try?”

You shook your head embarrassed, looking down at your shoes.

Jean sighed and laid his food on the dashboard, before reaching for your right hand and held it warmly into his grasp. He called your name which propelled you to look back at him, “Weren’t you the one who talked me into getting into law school? Even when I thought it was impossible? Weren’t you the one who wrote on my yearbook to-my-future-attorney when everyone was convinced that I’d end up working a mediocre office job? Or a mechanic in my Dad’s shop?”

Jean carried on, “I just… I just don’t understand. How could you have so much conviction for other people but—but yourself?”

You passed a grim smile, as vulnerability started to catch up with you, “Nevermind Jean, it’s passed. I am where I am now.”

“But, wasn’t it your dream?” Jean grew antsy on his seat, it was obvious that he truly didn’t understand, “The pages and pages and pages of diary you wrote about wanting to work there? What happened?”

You sighed, running out of words to say, until you caved in, “Maybe I never knew what I truly wanted.”

“Is that why?” Jean shot another look at you, there was an intensity in his eyes that you had never seen before. There you wondered what had happened to Jean’s life in all those years passed at your absence, had he led a difficult life before getting the success he was enjoying now? “Is that why you left me—because you didn’t know what you truly want?”

Jean understood the consequence of his action, he was a well-accomplished attorney after all. He also understood the vivid pain painted all over your face, but he was taking his shot. Years of wondering where had you gone, what kind of live had you lived – you never ceased to haunt him, all the what-ifs with you he always thought about whenever he broke off yet another meaningless relationship with yet another woman he’d never cared for in his life. Over the years, he’d taken a close look at you. He’d find you on the internet, he’d asked about you to friends of a friend that was still in touch with you, he’d ‘accidentally’ found your legal documents just to see that you had gotten your college degree one year earlier than him. He didn’t know why the thought of you lingered, you just did. Arriving into his dreams where he was seventeen again and unassuming, only for him to wake up disappointed at seeing a woman that wasn’t you in his bed.

For the longest time, Jean had fended for himself to be where he’s now. When survival had finally bore fruits, what else could there be for him? Still, he felt lonely in the embrace of another woman, still he felt the void persisted even if he spent his money on things he didn’t need. Jean never thought, that after years of dreaming to be the person he’s now, all he yearned for was to have a piece of simple, ordinary and innocent happiness he once had with you.

You were, after all, the only thing that could remind him of the innocence Jean had lost after years of grueling work as an attorney—seeing how corrupt and insidious men can be. So, when his wearied eyes landed on the sight of you this evening, in the alley of that long-forgotten Department Store, Jean had no choice but to finally face his haunting.

“Jean, it’s a long time ago,” you smile, cupping his hand with your free hand, “besides, I’m no longer your type, right?” A grin, a playful grin, painfully fabricated and Jean saw right through it.

You could feel the air had gotten thick in his car, and you shifted closer to the door. Jean let go of your hand as he moved closer to you, running his long fingers through your hair. His voice had gotten deep and you could sense a hint of pain in his words, “Maybe I never had a type.”

He dragged his gaze all over your face; your eyes, your nose, your lips – the way he used to reassure that you were so beautiful in his eyes despite the self-hate you inflicted upon yourself, “Maybe all I ever wanted was you and all I ever did with those girls was to try finding you in them,” he forced a smile, so stale, so painful, “to no avail.”

You could feel the air into your lung was compromised as you battled the tears, “Jean…”

“Out of so many things that I have been brave for, I was never brave enough for one thing that I needed the most: to tell you that it’s always been you,” Jean slithered his hands through your waist and pulled you into his embrace. He laid his head, heavy with loneliness and exhaustion on to the nook of your shoulder. For lack of better term, Jean was finally back home, as he muttered, letting go of all his inhibitions, “Baby, it’s always been you. It’s always been you.”

Your whole body was weak with emotions. The thoughts, the persistent ones – the what-ifs you could have had with Jean, the life you could have lived and the dream that could have been fulfilled. Without your permission, the tears fell to your dismay as you thought of one last thing remaining in your heart: Reiner. The way he smiled and listened all through your nightly despairs, caressing you close until you fell asleep, exhausted with tears dried up all over your face. The way Reiner whispered on to your ear, amidst your drowsiness, that he loved you and that he promised to make you whole, to fill the void you had always feared for. All the little things he had done without you asking, or the way he loved your family as if they were his own.

You cursed yourself for being surprised at how much you realized that you truly loved Reiner, even when you were in the embrace of someone you wondered about often. You realized, the best way to prove to someone that you love them was to stick around. And Reiner had stuck around, as much as you stuck around for him.

You left Jean long time ago for reasons you only vaguely remembered now, but life went on and sooner or later you should make it in your heart to accept it. You smiled and thought of your life. Sure, there was a lot of thing you need to patch up, but what is life if not persevering?

You pulled away from Jean, surprised to see a beaten look on his face. Far away from the dandy and sharp young attorney you would see on the news. Once, you loved this man, but years had passed and the one he wanted was no longer there. You were no longer the person you were thirteen years ago. You were no longer the girl Jean longed for, all he wished for was a passing ghost that you have left behind in your adolescence.

You caressed his cheek for the last time and landed a kiss to his forehead, “Jean, I’m so proud of you. How far you have gone. I’m sorry I wouldn’t be the one you’d share your future achievement with, but for all the things you have done to me, for seeing the good in me when I could hardly see it… I want to say thank you,” you smiled although pain was searing within your chest, “there’s a world out there where this would work out. But not this world.”

The unexpected rendezvous you had with the man whom you had given your first love to ended with both of you crying at each other’s embrace, until Salerno’s closed and turned off their lights.

When Jean finally dropped you at your childhood home, the place he used to spend all the times in, Jean smiled and pointed at your room with the lights still lit, “He’s waiting?”

“I think he’s asleep. He’s a deep sleeper, he forgets to turn off the lights every time.”

“Does he even fit in your tiny bed?”

“Well, you did fit.”

“For a time.”

“Yeah, for a time.”

“So, you’ll be Mrs. Braun?”

“Yep, Mrs. Braun I will be.”

Jean scoffed, pretending to be annoyed, but smiling nonetheless, “Lucky bastard, that Mr. Braun.”