#don't get me wrong. it's absolutely excruciating and i NEED to know what happens next Right Now Immediately

[zukkaoru]

as much as it emotionally destroyed me, i do have to say those last two pages of bsd 109 are like. the perfect cliffhanger. and i'm kind of super glad bsd releases monthly rather than weekly so it can actually hold the weight it was given

[endlessthxxghts]

Take It Easy

no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈10.2k

Summary: Your family throws an impromptu barbecue. You’re usually the one they throw every task on, but with today being your most painful period day, you say fuck it and leave them to fend for themselves. Only one other guest is invited today, and that’s Joel Miller.

Warnings: Age gap (23/43). Established relationship (to everyone but reader’s family). No physical description of reader besides outfit choices. Use of feminine pet names. LATINO JOEL MILLER (he’s canon in all my fics, sorry not sorry). Fluff with slight angst - getting caught, kinda (?) - happy ending, don’t worry. This version of Joel is always soft for reader, but I feel like he’s extra soft here. These idiots are so fucking in love (highkey jealous). SMUT 18+ MDNI: If you know the traffic light system for safe words, reader uses yellow at one point - but fluff & comfort happens immediately after. Dom/sub and Brat tamer/brat dynamics (subspace!). Daddy kink. Degradation kink (very brief). Making out/body appreciation. Masturbation (F). Oral sex (M receiving). Spit kink (I'm so weak). Exhibitionist kink - reader is being bold 🫣. Face fucking. Vaginal fingering. Lots of kissing (these two definitely have some sort of oral/kiss fixation istg). Soft unprotected p in v. Reader gets a surge of dominance, soooo ya get a glimpse of sub!Joel😏…...I think that's it. Let me know if there’s anything I missed. 🫶🏼

Author's Note: This can be read as a stand-alone, but I accidentally connected this a bit more than I intended to the What You Need fic. That fic talks a lot about reader's background/family dynamic and why/how Joel is the way that he is with reader. There's also some little details in here that might fly over your head if you haven't read What You Need. However, I genuinely don't think any confusion or such will occur if you only read this one shot. I hope you'll be able to enjoy all the same. Much love 💚

MASTERLIST || ONESHOT COLLECTION

“Can you prep the veggies?”

“Can you prep the grill?”

“Can you make the rice?”

“Why don’t I make the entire fucking dinner at this point?” You snap in the direction of the kitchen from your place on the couch, wrapped in blankets, snuggled with a heat pack over your lower belly. 

“Well, if you’re offering,” your brother smirks. 

You started your period yesterday, and the second day is always the absolute worst. Your flow is heavy, your cramps are excruciating, and your mood is all over the place. Today was not the day for an impromptu barbecue, regardless if there were guests or not. 

You promptly give your brother the middle finger then pull yourself off the couch to make your way to the bathroom. You’ve filled up an entire pad, yet again, in less than 20 minutes. 

You always do everything for your family, but today, you absolutely don’t give a fuck. Today is self care day for you — popping three painkillers then heading straight to the dark of your room. 

You’re not entirely sure how long you fell asleep for, but the smell of charcoal smoke and sizzling steak is what wakes you up first. The next sensation that fills you is the sound of heavy boots walking from, what you assume to be, the back door to the kitchen. Joel. You’d know that walk anywhere. He’s taking on the tasks for your family that usually fall on your shoulders. 

He called you this morning before everyone (including you) woke up, saying he’s excited to see you tonight. You grumbled sleepily, about to tell him you were just as excited when a searing pain ruptured in your stomach, causing you to gasp out in pain. 

“Baby?” Joel called out, “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Fuck, sorry, baby, it’s nothing,” you shyly say. He says your name. You start to explain, “I started my period yesterday, and-” but Joel cuts you off. “The second day is always the worst,” he states factually. 

You smile to yourself, “Yeah, exactly.”

He tells you to get up and get a glass of water and some medicine to ease the pain, which you do, then he tells you to let yourself sleep in today, which you don’t. 

“Fine,” he relents at your stubbornness, “but at least take it easy today, darlin’, ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Miller, loud and clear,” you tell him. 

You can feel his dumb fucking lopsided smirk through the phone, “Fuckin’ brat,” he snarls. 

“Mhm, but you’re fuckin’ brat,” you correct him.

“Yes. Mine.”

“Mmmm,” you let out a soft moan at that. Mine. You love the way it sounds, the way he claims you. “I love you.”

His cock twitches at the sound you make, but he wills it stay down. He takes a breath before he responds, “I love you, baby.” He can’t get ahead of himself today. He needs you to take it easy. So he tells you exactly that, again, for the last time before he ends the call and lets you take on your tasks for the day. 

Even though the mouth-watering scent of all the delicious food has completely pulled you awake, you stay in bed a little longer, basking in the sensation of absolute no cramping in the position you’re in. And as if on cue, Joel quietly knocks on your door, waiting for you to invite him in. 

“Come in,” your voice cracks, still groggy from the hours of no speaking. 

He enters softly, clad in that denim button up you love so much paired with some dark washed jeans. “Hi, darlin’,” he makes his way to place a soft kiss to your forehead, your nose, then a longer one to your lips. “How you feelin’?” 

“Better now,” you coo, completely enamored by how soft your big, burly man can be. “Food smells good. You helped them?” 

He’s sitting at the side of your bed now, facing you, so he can rest his arm across you. “Only your old man. Carried in the food as he finished puttin’ em in the trays,” he says as he draws little circles on your arms. 

You hum in response, too content at his presence. Still unable to use your voice, you tug on his arm, silently asking for him to hold you for just a moment before you eventually need to get up. 

“They all left, by the way,” Joel soothes. 

You finally have the strength to lift your head up, a quizzical look on your face. 

“Your brother needed an herb, your dad s’more charcoal, obviously your mother drove ‘em. I don’t know where your other siblings are, though,” he explains. 

“Oh.” You look up at him. “So what you’re saying is,” tugging harder on his arm to pull him into your bed, “you can freely cuddle me until then.” 

He chuckles at that, giving into your pull, and wrapping his hand around your jaw to pull you into yet another sweet kiss. He’s laying down next to you now, and you take the opportunity to completely entangle your limbs into his, your head tucked into his neck. 

Your family is gone for another forty-five minutes from that point on, and you two spend each minute just completely wrapped into each other, sharing sweet, wet kisses everywhere both of  you can reach. His thigh supplying light pressure between yours at your core, spurring you both on just enough but not to the point where you lose all self control. 

There’s something about the way you two can touch each other like this. With past partners, they always wanted things to escalate. To undress you and devour you at any sign of affection. But with Joel, it’s natural. Of course, his body will react in ways that show he physically wants more, but truly, he just wants to adore you and appreciate you and love you. And in the moments where those three words aren’t enough, he shows it in the other pure way he knows how to. 

You’re too distracted being consumed by Joel’s touch, but as sharp as an eagle, he immediately perks at the sound of your family’s arrival. He slowly pulls away, trying to savor the kiss as much as possible. Finally it breaks, and you immediately pull your bottom lip into your mouth, trying to savor the way he feels and the way he tastes. He gives you a look of pure love and devotion—a look you know is only reserved for you, a look you’ll never get tired of. “Time to get up, darlin’.” 

“Ugh,” you whine out, “Okay, I’ll meet you out there. I’m just gonna change, baby.” 

He pulls you up out of bed and straight into another chaste kiss, “Want me to make you tea?” 

“That sounds lovely, baby,” you blush at his attentiveness. You’ve been spoiled rotten by him for the past year, but you still get so flustered every time. “But I think we’re out of what I normally drink-”

He stops you with yet another kiss. “I bought a box of that peppermint blend before I came.” 

You can’t stop the way you absolutely fold for this man, evident in the shaky breath you take and the way you completely stumble on your words, “Y-yeah, o-okay, yes, please.” 

He smiles and nods, walking directly to your kitchen without another second to waste. 

God, he deserves some fucking head right now, you think to yourself as you quietly giggle. 

You make your way to your bathroom, taking a quick body shower because those several hours of sleep, plus the way Joel was on you for 45 minutes, had you looking like a murder scene down there. You dry yourself off, lotion up, and change into some loose black sweats and a fitted, light blue baby tee. 

You look a lot brighter after your rest; Joel was right in telling you to sleep in, you needed it. Not that you’d ever tell him. He doesn’t need anymore ego boosts. Ya see, what’d I say, darlin’? you can hear his Texan twang scolding you already. 

He looks up from the kettle pot boiling before him to see you perched on the bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island, bright eyed and awake, watching him make your tea. “Thank you again, baby,” you softly say. 

He comes around behind you, setting your mug in front of you accompanied with three soft kisses peppered to the area where your shoulder and neck meet. “Of course, my sweet girl. You ready to eat? Everythin’ is set up out back, and everyone is out there, too,” he sighs, “already eatin’.” He says, annoyed at the fact that no one thought to call and check in on you, let you know that the ritual of eating together already started. You’re used to it by now, but seeing his reaction reminds you that it’s not normal for your own family to treat you this way. You smile a little sadly, trying to think of how you want to go about this. Usually you just wouldn’t eat, but with Joel around, you know that’s not going to fly. 

“How ‘bout,” he says as he wraps his arms around your waist, his head still resting on your shoulder, “I go out there, make a plate big enough for us both, and I come back in and we share?” He could easily get you your own plate, but he knows your family. They’ll jump at any opportunity to shit talk you when they don’t understand the entire situation. Getting you your own plate and serving you when he’s a guest in your own home could inspire that, and he really doesn’t want you to experience that right now. 

You lean into him, turning your head a little to place a kiss to his cheek. “Okay, baby,” you smile, “yes, let’s share.” 

He comes back inside to you snuggled on the couch again with a pullout table propped right in front. He snuggles up right beside you, placing your legs right on top of his, keeping you secure with a hand on your thigh. 

The plate is filled with a mountain worth of food. You already know three-quarters of that is going down his bottomless pit of a stomach, laughing to yourself at the thought. One thing that wasn’t on the original menu for tonight was on his plate. It also just so happened to be one of your comfort foods whenever you weren’t feeling good. “W-who made the mashed potatoes?” 

Joel looks up at you sheepishly. He thought he’d be able to pull it off. He didn’t just go to the store, before he came, for your mint tea. He also went to get the ingredients for the mashed potatoes recipe you love so much. Within the almost two years he’s spent getting to know you, he’s recognized that every single time you’re feeling under the weather or falling into some type of depressive slump, you’re either eating or craving it. “I, uh- When I went to go get your tea… I figured I’d get ya your stuff for this, too. Made it before I came to wake ya up.” 

“Joel…” your voice cracks and your eyes tear up. 

How is it that after 23 years of life, you’re finally experiencing what it means when someone loves you? And you’re not talking romantic, you’re talking pure, genuine love. Love that you should’ve received from your parents, your siblings. They have never once shown you the consideration of making you your favorite meal, or fixing you a cup of something warm when you’re not feeling well. They have never shown you what it means to appreciate someone, in any of the love languages. The only person that has shown you remotely anything is your mother, but even that is limited because she cowers behind the directives of your father. You see her try, and you feel selfish not to appreciate it. But is it selfish to just want to be wholly loved by the people who created and raised you?  

You pull the fork out of his hands and set it back on the plate. And in an instant, you completely throw yourself on him, your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, legs tightly hugged between his own. He loses his balance and lays straight back onto the couch, letting out a grunt at the landing, with you on top of him. You push into him for a kiss, your noses smooshing together as you lick inside his mouth with a sense of urgency to show him how much you love him. Once the initial shock of you pouncing on him wears off, he immediately wraps himself around you, tightening his hold to pull you in impossibly more. His tongue dances with yours, one arm wrapped around your middle and another secure around the bottom of your ass. 

You adjust to straddle his hips, sitting up and pulling him up with you by the collar of his denim. You break away from him just for a minute, heavy breathing and eyes dark, and you let your hand glide down his chest, swiftly undoing a few buttons of his shirt, making sure to leave a trail of sloppy, wet kisses as you go. You make your way down to his belt, unbuckling it with such a need that he can’t help but just watch you. You slip the belt out of the loops, letting it fall to the ground, and you’re scooting back more to situate yourself in between the tight space of his legs. You palm him through his jeans, feeling how absolutely hard he is, which elicits a deep groan from the man above you. With that, the button and zipper of his jeans are undone. You bring your hands up back to the hem of his jeans, looking back up at him for his approval. 

“Sweet girl, ya know your folks are right outside,” he tries to warn but fails with the way his voice wavers with need. 

You look to the back door that’s twenty feet away, curtains completely drawn, and look back at him. “You and I both know none of them are coming back inside for a while,” you raise your eyebrows in defiance. 

He is truly at war with himself right now. He could let you do what you want, knowing you get off just as much as he does when you give him head. Or he could situate you back to your original positions and finger a few orgasms out of you, and he just pulls away from you if someone were to walk in — the safer route. Or. The safest option being he bids your folks goodnight and you let them know you’re going out for the night. 

Though, the latter would just be too easy. He knows you both revel in the risk, in the act of sneaking around. Which is why he finds himself scooting forward to the edge of the couch, and you take the hint loud and clear. He wants you on your knees for this. He meets your stare once more, both of you sparkling with mischief. “Well? Darlin’? Best get on with it then, huh?” Followed by him lifting his hips slightly so you can tug his clothing down, his tip red and aching. 

“Fuck, yes,” you gasp out, “been thinking about this since you left my fuckin’ room, daddy, I want you so bad.” 

Your admission spurs him on more, and his eyes go impossibly dark. “Go on, darlin’. Prove it to me. Show me how fuckin’ bad.” 

You pull yourself up to stand on your knees for a moment, and murmur a quiet come here to him, urging him to lean in for a second. He pulls closer, stopping an inch away from your face. You open your mouth for him, tongue sticking out and flat. He gets the hint, and before you can even register, his hand is on your jaw, tilting your head back and opening you wider, and he spits. 

You use all your self control not to swallow it right here and right now, desperate to feel any kind of warmth from him slide down your throat. You have other plans right now. You close your mouth and let your own spit generate, absolutely giddy with want to please your man. His eyes are fixed on you, knowing your next plan of action, but still stunned all the same at how fucking filthy his sweet girl is. You pull yourself back, hovering your mouth over his erection. 

You open your mouth and just let the combination of both of you fall from your mouth, sliding down his cock like the sweetest of syrups that you can’t wait to lick up. As the amount of spit starts to really gather, you grab him by the base and start stroking up and down his length, putting extra emphasis on his tip, running your finger over his slit for good measure. He lets out a stuttered groan at that, and you take that as your queue to finally put him in your mouth. Running your tongue in the same pattern your fingers did his tip, making him hiss in your ability to make him fold at the smallest of touches.

You keep this pace for a good while, using your hand in tandem with your mouth, stroking up and down in the speed and pressure that you know brings him to the edge fast. The sounds coming from your throat mixed with the slick feeling of your hand pumping him has your pussy absolutely dripping for attention. Fuck it. You slide your other hand down into your underwear, and begin to play with your clit, not wanting to go any deeper for fear of getting blood all over the place. Joel wouldn’t mind—of course, he wouldn’t—but you would, so you give yourself just enough to ease the aching need between your legs. Your moans get louder now that you’re touching yourself, your throat adding a delicious vibrating sensation to him. 

His eyes were shut at how fucking amazing you’re taking him, but with the sounds you’re making, he can’t help but make sure all his focus is on you. And god damn, when he sees you touching yourself so prettily while you’re being such a good girl making daddy feel so fucking good, he can’t help but cum at the sight. “F-fuck, sweet girl, holy fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, “It turn you on that bad to have my dick in your mouth, huh?” 

You pull off of him with a pop, making sure you keep as much of his cum in your mouth as you can—because there’s a fuck ton—and you fix your stare into his dark eyes as you swallow every last bit of him. “So fucking good, daddy, I-” you break off into a moan, your hand that was pumping him now gripping his thigh to maintain your balance as you continue the ministrations on your pussy. 

“Cum for me, baby, show me how good it makes you feel to be daddy’s little slut,” he demands. You gasp out at his words, that demand being what really throws you over the edge. Your clit pulses underneath your fingers, you feel yourself gush out, your blood and cum making you feel impossibly messier, and with that, your body goes rigid. 

Joel leans forward and grabs onto your jaw, keeping you upright while you come back down from your high. You’re so far gone that you don’t realize he’s peppering your face with kisses, uttering sweet nothings until you’re back with him. He gently pulls your hand from your pants and settles them into your lap.

“I’ve got ya, baby,” he kisses your lips softly. 

“My sweet girl,” he kisses your jaw, “I love you,” another kiss at your pulse point below your ear. He feels your body begin to relax. 

“Atta girl, baby,” he whispers before reaching down and settling his other arm underneath your legs, positioning himself so he can pick you up in a cradle position. He stands and carries you to your bathroom, settling you on your feet for one moment so he can pull your sweats and underwear off of you. He guides you down onto the toilet, kissing your forehead and muttering a quick one sec, baby before he steps out. He comes back two minutes later, and you’re still in subspace but slightly more grounded, and he kneels down in front of you, instructing you to lift one foot at a time. 

He went to go get you a new pair of underwear and some gray sweatpants. He already stuck another pad to your underwear, too. The action fills you with such an overwhelming feeling that you can’t help the tears that roll down your flushed cheeks. He looks up, knowing everything you’re saying and feeling by your gaze alone. He cups your cheeks with both hands, rubs his thumb to wipe the stray tears, and kisses your forehead, your left eye, then your right, your nose, and finally your lips, all in an attempt to seal every ounce of love and adoration he has for you.  

“I love you,” you finally say, leaning your forehead against his, and just take a moment with his hands on you. He pulls back again with a kiss to your forehead, and he grabs the wipes on the counter, encouraging you to lean back a bit, so he can clean you properly. 

“Wait, no,” you meekly say, trying to grab the wipes from his hands. He knows you get embarrassed at the fact that he sees you a little gross like this, and you know he truly doesn’t care. Usually he relents and lets you do it yourself, but tonight, he’s doing everything for you whether you like it or not. He raises one eyebrow at you, and that’s all you need to bring your arms back down in defeat. You lean yourself back a little, spreading your legs open, and let him clean you up. 

When it comes to other activities during your period, you usually are uncomfortable. But with Joel? With him, you don’t mind. You actually love it. It’s in moments like these that remind you how irrevocably in love you are with this man.

Afterwards he stands you up, pulls your bottoms on, and turns you towards the sink and washes your hands for you. He really wasn’t kidding at how easy he wanted you to take today.

He carried you back to the couch and wrapped a fluffy blanket around you. You threw yourself on him in the middle of your guys’ meal, so after he settles you into the couch, he transfers your shared food to a real plate instead of paper and warms everything up. He does the same to your peppermint tea. 

After everything is warmed, he settles back onto the couch beside you, pulling your legs up onto his thighs and holding you above your knee to secure your position. You go to reach the fork, but Joel is quick to swat your hand away, taking the fork and feeding you a bite of your mashed potatoes instead. 

“I told you,” he scolds, “to take it easy today.” 

You frown, “And I have been! You’ve literally been taking care of me since you got here.” 

He sets the fork down, reaching for your tea and lifting it up to your mouth. He’s not gonna respond until you take a sip, which was much needed as your belly immediately calms at the heat. You take one more sip as he begins, “You pouncin’ on my fuckin’ dick was not takin’ it easy.” 

You cough on the fucking liquid still traveling down your throat. You were not expecting that to come out of his mouth. You try really hard to will yourself not to fucking burst out in laughter because you know how serious he was with this statement. So instead, you settle for your typical smart ass remark. “It wasn’t?” You asked. “Seemed real easy to me,” you add as you take the fork from his hand and take another bite of the yummy food before you. His eyebrow shoots up and you give him a lopsided smirk in return. 

“Watch it, sweet girl,” he says as he brings his hand up, thumb and forefinger pinching at your chin to force your eyes into his. He gives you a bruising kiss, one that entices him to bite at your bottom lip as he pulls away. You can feel yourself slipping again. He’s not done with you, he’s just giving you a moment to refuel. 

“I’ll be good,” you softly whimper as you chase for his lips. “I’m not so sure about that,” he responds as his grip on your chin gets tighter, forcing you stationary and a few inches too far from where you want him to be. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes gloss over as you whisper out a small I promise, to which he says, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure of it.” 

He lets go of your face completely and continues feeding you, alternating between the food and your tea. As the next bite he prepares for you reaches your mouth, something that has never happened before decided to occur. Your mother comes inside the house, and her first sight as soon as she came in was you, completely wrapped around Joel, and him feeding you. 

Your jaw freezes, his grip on your leg tightens out of instinct to protect you, and it’s a staring standoff between the three of you. Joel doesn’t realize he’s still holding the fork up until his hand starts to shake, so he gently sets it down on the plate. It’s you who speaks first. “Mom, I-”

But it’s your mother who wants the first word. The first two words, actually. “How long?” 

Your heart is beating out of your chest, and the only thing keeping you from full blown panic is all the ways you’re in physical contact with Joel. “I can explain, mom, I-”

“Flower,” she says to comfort you. She’s not mad? you think. Your heart immediately calms, but now you’re just confused. Growing up, your mother always called you her flower. She used it predominantly when she wanted to help you regulate. You’ve always been full of anxiety and other strong emotions. Flowers are strong and beautiful, and show exactly when they need support. And when they are given the support they need, they flourish. That’s you. You are a flower. Her flower. But now she can see, there’s someone else tending to you. And she is not mad. 

“A year and some change,” you softly say. She looks between you two. Then she steps forward. “Look,” she breathes. “I know our family hasn’t been the best in showing love or appreciation. And they obviously haven’t been the best at fending for themselves-”

“Amen to that,” you say, and she chuckles in appreciation. She continues.

“Thank you, by the way. For everything you do around here. We both know none of it would get done around here if it weren’t for you. I try to help you as much as I can, but obviously not enough. If you can pull everyone’s weight around here, which you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place, then I can at least pull my own and whip them into pulling their own, too.” 

Your eyes are watering, and you take a deep, shaky breath. Joel feels it. He brings his hand around to rub small circles into your back. You’re so grateful he’s here. “I love you,” you say to your mom. 

“I love you, too, flower, but I’m not done. I also know that I’m not too great at using my voice. Defending what’s right. But you’re the one person in this family that’s given me the inspiration to fight for what I believe in. You give me strength, and constantly seeing this family pull you down lower and lower as the years go by breaks me. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.” 

Tears begin to fall, both on your face and your mom’s. 

“And in this last year, and some change, to be exact,” she smiles as she recalls your answer from earlier, “you have been the most vibrant flower of the entire garden. In the gloominess of this house, you continue to grow, and I’ve been dying to understand what changed. And now I see why. And I have never been more grateful for another human—the first one being you—until he entered your life.” 

You and Joel both look at each other, his eyes have a hint of gloss to them now, too. 

“So,” your mother says as she reaches for the tissue box on the counter and walks back to hand you the box. “I won’t tell a soul. It’s not my story to share. And remember. I will always have your back. Always. I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to tell me about such a beautiful relationship, but we’re here now and I need you to know that I will forever support what makes my flower happy,” she looks to Joel, “and that’s you. I will support both of you until my flower decides on something different.” 

Joel’s face turns into a scowl, half joking and half pissed at the thought of you leaving him. “Which, I have a feeling isn’t gonna happen, so you can calm yourself, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” your mother adds after seeing his boyish reaction that would normally scare anyone but you, and apparently your mother. 

You lose your shit at his new nickname, and all the emotions just flow out at once. You pull yourself off of Joel and run into your mothers arms, needing her comfort. She holds you like that for a few seconds before she says, “Okay, go, I think Mr. Grump needs your comfort now. Absolutely no way I’m doing it.” You laugh and squeeze her one last time before she grabs something in the kitchen and heads back outside. You make your way back to Mr. Grump, straddling his lap. Before she opens the back door, though, she calls out your name. 

“Yes, mom?” 

“I’ll cover for you, hon,” she says nonchalantly as she goes back outside. 

You and Joel stare at each other for a moment, too shocked to take action on the opportunity that just presented itself to you. Then, it finally hits. You pull him into a kiss that’s downright feral, your hips grinding down on him on instinct. “Take-” you say as you try to break away from the kiss, but you’re too drunk on him to completely pull away, “t-take me home, baby.” 

He grunts in response, and stands up with you completely wrapped around him. He heads for your front door. 

“Baby, Baby, wait, not here,” you say breathily as you go back in for another quick kiss, “through the garage.” He looks confused for a second before he remembers. The front door camera. The left side of your driveway being the camera’s blind spot. Immediately he reroutes.

You would think the first thing he does is bring you to his bedroom, but no. He sets you on his couch, molding your body into his signature position for you that makes you sit on your heels, palms up on your thighs. He could’ve easily told you he wanted you in position, but again, he told you to take it easy. 

Although the position almost always forces you into subspace, you’re confused and coherent enough to question him, “Baby..?” 

He steps back, looking down at you with his eyebrow raised, “Don’tcha remember, sweet thing?” 

“You pouncin’ on my fuckin’ dick was not takin’ it easy”, he said. 

You promised you would be good. 

To which he assured you, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make sure of it.”

He sees the moment it clicks in your head, and immediately his hold is on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours. He whispers, “Color?” Still demanding but with a hint of softness to it. You tilt your head further back, trying to make your lips touch him more, “Green,” you say. 

He pulls your chin into him and kisses you, slow and sweet, his tongue tangling with yours. He pulls away, breath slightly shaky, but he composes himself quickly and stands straight up, letting go of any contact with you. 

His couch is either really low to the ground, or he is just one big motherfucker. Either way, you sitting on your haunches on his couch like this while he stands straight up in front of you makes your head in direct eye line of his crotch. And you can’t seem to pull your eyes away from it. You see his tent forming, and you’re smart enough to realize what lesson he’s about to give you. 

“Told you to take it fuckin’ easy today,” he says as he slowly unbuckles his belt, “didn’t I, baby?” 

“Yes, daddy,” you say quickly, not wanting to piss him off more. 

“But ya didn’t,” his belt falls. “Did you?” 

Your spit thickens. “No, daddy.” 

His belt is on the floor, and he’s reaching to undo his button and zipper. “My good girl was jus’ too fuckin’ eager to have my dick in her mouth, hm?” 

You lick your bottom lip, catching the drool you didn’t realize was pooling out of your mouth. Like Pavlov’s fucking dogs, he’s got you trained. You let out a whiny mhm in response, already completely blissed out at the prospect of what’s about to happen. He settles for it, this time. 

He pulls his jeans down, just enough to pull himself free. He leaves his boxers up for now while he explains. He walks closer to you, his hardness one lick away from you, and forces you to look up at him again. “You’re gonna take my cock in your mouth again, sweetheart,” he says. 

You eagerly cut him off, “Yes, please, thank you, daddy, I-”

He shuts you up by pushing his thumb in your mouth. “But you’re not gonna move or do anythin’, besides sit prettily for daddy,” his grip on your jaw tightens, “ya understand me?” He slides his thumb out and spreads your spit across your bottom lip and down your chin. 

“I understand, daddy,” you say, your eyes completely glossed over. Out of instinct, you fold your hands behind your back, signaling to Joel your complete submission to him. 

“Such a good girl when you remember how to be patient,” he says as he stands back to his full height again. He gets impossibly closer, crowding your face. He pulls his boxers down, and his erection springs free, the tip landing against your lips, smearing the pre-cum across it. It takes everything in you not to lick it up—you can’t, he needs to give you your next instructions. He hears your silent pleas, and as he settles his hand at the back of your head, fingers grounding themselves into the roots of your hair, he tells you, “Open.” 

Knowing how rough Joel can get, you take a deep breath, relaxing your throat, and you open wide, your tongue laid flat out, slick with the drool that’s been forming since the noise of the belt buckle hit your ears. 

His other hand is holding himself at the base, guiding himself into your mouth. He taps his tip on your tongue a few times for good measure, before pushing himself all the way in. You feel your gag reflex coming, but you take another deep breath through your nose, urging your throat to relax a little more. It does. He pushes slowly in until your nose is flush with the patch of hair above his length. All you wanna do is unclasp your hands and reach for his thighs to pull him into you tighter, wanting to engulf his scent into you, but you can’t. All you can do is take what he gives you while sitting pretty like the good girl you are. 

He starts to pull back a little, and that naturally makes your throat contract, forcing a groan out of him and more saliva out of you. He lets go of himself, and now both hands are on you. He taps your cheek, asking you to look up at him. “Hands behind the entire time. Any touch on my thigh signals red to me, okay?” 

You nod your head as best you can with his grip on you and let out a little moan for good measure. At your signal, he completely and utterly wrecks you with no hesitation. And you take it exactly as he gives it, just like you promised you would. 

The more he thrusts, the more spit that builds, leaking from your mouth and down your chin. Your eyes are shut at the feeling of him abusing your throat, but he won’t have that. You feel his other hand not tap your cheek twice. Your eyes fly open and land on his dark ones. “Those eyes stay on me,” he grunts out at a particularly rough thrust. You whimper out at his words, trying to convey your apologies for doing something that could make him mad. “No, it’s alright, darlin’,” he says, his pace never faltering. “I- fuck- wasn’t specific enough,” he grunts, “but ya know what I expect now,” his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek. “Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

Your eyebrows furrow and try to emphasize with your eyes that yes, eyes on you, daddy. He understands. “Atta girl, baby,” he breathes out, pulling out momentarily to give you a breath. 

You choke out a little as he pulls out. He softens, concern laced in his voice, “You okay, amor?”

“Yes,” you say weakly, “I promise, please. W-want more..” You open your mouth wide again, tongue positioned perfectly for him to slide back in. 

His eyes fall dark again and there’s that signature lopsided smirk. He guides himself back into you, completely, and his hand from your cheek glides down to wrap around your throat. “Shit, amor, you feel that?” He squeezes at the base of your throat. “I’m all the way fuckin’ in there, baby,” he says, falling back into a rough pace, feeling the outline of his dick glide in and out of your pathway. “You’re takin’ me so-” he lets out a pained grunt. He’s close. “-so fuckin’ good, shit, baby.”

Your throat constricts again, and that feeling is what sends him over. For the second time today, all of your senses are being consumed by everything Joel: his taste, his smell, his touch, the downright sinful sounds that grace your ears, and you take it all in, eagerly. Both hands release their hold on you as he pulls out of your mouth, and you’re quick to lean into his hips. His hand shoots back to the nape of your neck, pulling you back like a mother does to her puppy.

“You’re fuckin’ insatiable, you know that?” he says, out of breath, still trying to compose himself from the soul-sucking he just took from you. You give him a blissed out giggle, “You jus’ taste so yummy, daddy.”

“Yeah?” he asks, amused. “Well, so do you, babygirl, so it’s my turn now.”

Immediately your ears perk up and your body goes rigid. The thought of him giving you head with the flow you have right now doesn’t sit right with you. “Yellow,” you shakily whisper.

He lets go of the back of your neck and falls to his knees to match your eye level. “Oh, honey,” he cups your face, “Please tell me how to make it better. Do you wanna stop here, mi amor?”

Your body relaxes at his instant reaction. You’ve only ever had to use a safe-word with Joel twice. Today, included. And in each rare moment, he does what every caring partner and proper Dominant should: validate, comfort, and communicate. He has never given you any reason to be scared or feel disrespected. This is Joel we’re talking about here. You’re safe in his presence, always. The thought puts you at ease, but it also makes you feel a little ridiculous at using a safe word for something that could easily be communicated without it. 

“Wait, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you or anything, it’s something so tiny and stupid, I should’ve just communicated instead of going straight to the code-” you quickly start panicking as you ramble on, but he’s quicker. He pulls you off the couch and into his lap, holding you in a tight embrace, knowing the pressure is what helps pull you away from your panic attack. He’s muttering it’s okay, you’re okay and I’ve got ya, as he kisses the top of your head. As soon as he feels your body relax in his arms, he speaks. “Darlin’ girl, please look at me.” You do, teary-eyed.

“I completely forgot you were on your period. I was too in the moment, and I had a lapse in judgment in my words. I’m sorry. You should not be the one to apologize, ever, if you’re ever in an uncomfortable situation like this. The safe words are there for a reason, okay? Use them. They are there to keep you safe, always. Thank you for speakin’ up, my love.”

You nod your head at his words, too emotion-filled to respond with anything else right now. The only thing you can offer is a whisper of a “Thank you, I love you,” but that’s enough for him. 

He gives you a soft kiss to your lips. “How would you like to continue, beautiful girl?”

You think for a moment, and the way that his hand feels wrapped around you starts to make your arousal build again. All you can think of are his big, calloused hands all over you. In your mouth. On your thighs. In your warmth. Screw the bloody mess, he doesn’t care. You squirm at the thought, and he feels you falling back into your space again. His cock stirs beneath you. He tightens his grip on you to coax you out of your thoughts. “Fingers,” you squeak out, your cheeks flushing red instantaneously. He grins, but his eyes stay fixed on you, hinting at you for something more. Then, it clicks. “P-please, daddy, need your fingers in me,” you say, voice trembling with need. 

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he says as he pulls your thighs around him and brings himself to full height. He leads you to his bed, setting you down on the edge with a kiss to your forehead and a quick one moment, sweetheart. 

He leaves to return back with a large bath towel and lays it across the center of his bed, dark blue to match his sheets. He situates pillows for your head and leaves a smaller one out, just in case. You feel his weight shift the bed, and he’s walking toward you on his knees. You lean into his touch the moment his hand makes contact at your lower back, and he’s guiding your shirt off of you. He takes that same arm, wrapping it around your waist, and leans down to situate the crook of your knees over his other arm. He’s carrying you up higher to the center of the bed, completely removing any opportunity for a thought to run through that head of yours. He wants you focused on nothing but the way he’s going to make you feel. 

Once you’re laying down on your back, he makes his way down, placing soft kisses on your belly and all over your thighs while he slides your bottoms down your legs. Once you’re completely bare, Joel situates himself in a way that he’s never done before. He lays next to you on his side, shoulder propping him up, so his hand is underneath your head and he’s still looking down at you. He grabs onto your thigh closest to him, and he hooks your leg atop of his, opening you up. 

The level of intimacy and vulnerability of the way you two are positioned against one another has your mind reeling, absolutely aching to be consumed by him. Joel is always sweet and soft with you, but this is completely on another level. It doesn’t feel motivated by a feral need to rip each other apart. The motivation lies in the pure need to feel. To feel you against him, consumed in the entirety of love and raw emotion. To feel him against you, filling you with a genuine intimacy and devotion you both know only he can provide you.

He brings his other hand up to gently cradle your face, and he leans in to slot his lips against yours, his tongue running along your bottom lip, swallowing the faintest of whimpers that slip from your throat. Your hand slides to the back of his neck, keeping him close, deepening your dance of lip and tongue. His hand drifts away from your face and takes his time to grasp and show attention to the rest of your body. 

He takes one of your breasts in his hand, massaging it with a care that causes your fingers to curl tighter in his hair. He shows the same attention to your other one, then flattens out his entire hand to run down your sternum and belly, positioning his hand on the pathway down for his middle and ring finger to be the first that make contact with your sex. 

And when it does, neither of you can hold back the groan that leaves your mouths. He’s too enamored by you to let his lips leave yours, but you have a feeling your filthy-mouthed man would make a comment about how wet you are for him. You know you’re right when he completely bypasses your clit and down to your entrance, eager to get his fingers covered in you, so he can spread it all over you. 

You pull away for a moment, both of you out of breath and pupils completely blown. “You see how good you make me feel, daddy?” His fingers reach your clit again. “I’m so fucking wet,” you moan out, “and it’s all because of you- all for you, daddy.”

“Baby, please,” he grits out, his fingers leaving your clit after a few more circles, dipping into your entrance with ease. “So fuckin’ good to me, but fuck, stop talking,” he breathes, hips involuntarily thrusting into you, “need you to soak my fingers first, amor.”

You shoot him a smile that gives him butterflies, and then you’re pulling him back in, needing to feel him everywhere he can possibly manage. 

The pace of his fingers are perfect, constantly hitting the spot that’ll get you there in no time with the heated sensation of lips. His hand behind your head moves down and wraps underneath your waist, pulling you in flush with his body. He needs to feel every part of you. Your leg closest to him—the one hooked around his leg—comes off of him, and now you two are completely laying on your sides, facing each other. 

His fingers leave you for a moment to hike your other leg up and around his waist, your pussy inches away from his center. His fingers find you once more, and the angle is impossibly deeper. You’re whining out now as you rock your hips against his hand. He knows you're close with the way your breath shakes. He reaches his thumb up to circle your clit, and you break away from his lips, throwing your head back at an instinct, exposing all your sweet spots for his mouth to reach. As his hands continue working you to the edge, he gives you the final push when he latches at the base of your neck where your shoulder meets, and he litters the area in wet kisses and painfully delicious bites. 

Oh, fuck, daddy, yes,” you moan out, your vision going white and your body going rigid. Your climax hits you so hard that you don’t realize his fingers left you, your thighs still convulsing and hurtling you through your high. You can faintly hear Joel, muttering his sweet whispers, as he always does. 

“Oh, fuck, that was so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

“You’re beautiful, yanno that?”

“I love you, my pretty girl,” he places a kiss right atop your heart.

Still, your mind is floating somewhere in narnia, so he understands when you don’t reply right away. You’re not even completely back from your orgasmic haze when he pulls his boxers completely off, throwing them somewhere in the room, and his aching cock is resting against your core. 

“Darlin’ girl,” he brings his hand up to guide your limpless head to look at him, “I need you to use your words f’ me, honey, please give me a color,” he says, the softest you have ever heard him. 

You give him the smallest smile back, but it’s so full of love and admiration. You’re lightly nodding your head yes, trying to will your vocal cords to respond. “G-gre..” you let out.

He stops you with a kiss, “Okay, honey, okay, that’s all I needed,” and another kiss, “Can I give my baby what she so desperately wants now?” 

The prospect of the sensation your body is about to go through because of him ignites a fire in you. It forces you to come back down from your haze, so you can register every second of him in his entirety. Your neck straightens and your eyes open fully, pupils blacker than he’s ever seen. “Yes, daddy, please give it to me,” you say with a neediness more than anything. His lip quirks up in a smirk. “What my baby wants, she gets,” and he’s pushing your hips into him as he pushes into you, his tip notching at your entrance. You hiss, reveling in the stretch he gives you regardless of how much he works you open. 

There’s a stigma with Dominants that they are always so calm and collected, always composed and never in a state of neediness and desperation like their submissive counterparts. However, that’s simply not true. In every please, in every whimper, in every cry; in every orgasm, in every act of brattiness, in each use of the honorific; in every demonstration of pure submission: there is a Dominant, willing themself not to give in and give their partner everything they need. There is a Dominant about to break because one more plea from the submissive’s mouth has them ready and willing to forgo every single plan they had for that particular scene. 

And that’s exactly what Joel does here. He had a plan for you, even after you used your yellow code, but with the way he’s wrapped around you tonight—you have the power. You’re calling the shots. He exists simply and solely for you and your pleasure. Nothing else matters. 

He bottoms out, and both his arms are wrapped around your waist, both of you completely aligned with one another. “How do you want me, baby?” 

“I don’t care,” your forehead falls into his, “I just need to feel you, please.”

With your words, he’s thrusting into you with a calculated intention. You needed to feel him, you said. So he pushes in not too fast but not too slow, and hard. He buries himself to the hilt every single time, and it’s like he put you in a trance. Your eyes softly shut, trying to stay open to look at him; your eyebrows are pulled together; and the only sounds falling from your mouth are moans and whimpers and sweet nothings only he’d be able to decipher with your babbling. You feel everything in this angle, with his rhythm. You feel every vein, every ridge, you feel his tip kissing every sweet spot inside of you while simultaneously stealing the oxygen from your lungs. He feels so fucking good. Your leg hooked around his waist squeezes tighter on instinct, and he groans at the feeling. Seeing you completely desperate and at his disposal nearly finishes him right then and there. 

Your hand is at its usual spot for tonight, wrapped tightly in the curls at the base of his neck. You're meeting his thrusts now, and it heightens the sensation tenfold. Both your breaths are hot and heavy, mingling into the thick air of Joel’s bedroom. You’re nearly at the edge again, you both are, but you need a little more of a push. “Baby, t-touch me, please,” you say with more breath than your actual voice. He sounds absolutely pained, “I got’cha, baby, I got’cha.” His hand leaves your waist, the other tightening around you to compensate for its absence, and his fingers are back on your bundle of nerves, circling at the same rhythm that he’s pulling in and out of you. 

A gasp leaves your throat, and every part of you that’s wrapped around him pulls him in impossibly tighter, “fuck, just like that, fuck, please don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop,” you ramble on in an almost incoherent whine. You can feel your words and sounds spurring him on as his cock twitches inside of you. He’s close, too. Then it clicks, you realize what you meant earlier when you said you needed to feel him first.

His fingers speed up and so do his hips. “C’mon, darlin’, such a good fuckin’ girl, give it to me, soak my fuckin’ cock,” he grunts out, now chasing his own release. 

Not stopping your movements, you unravel your arms from him and you push down on his chest, pushing him onto his back. You’re on top of him now, your movements only faltering momentarily as you situated yourself to straddle him. You grab both his arms, the one working your clit and the other on your waist, and you bring them up above his head. You pin them there with your own hand, your body leaning over him and adding to the momentum as you bounce on him. “No,” you say, almost a growl, “Need you inside me first,” sucking his bottom lip. 

He fucking whines. “Need you inside me first, then I’ll give you what you’re looking for.” You switch off into a grind of your hips, moving back and forth as the feel of his pubic hairs rub against your clit causing your pussy to flutter on him. He feels it and his hands flex to move from your grip. Your hold on him tightens. You have the power. You lean down, licking a pathway up his neck and making your way near his ear. You whisper, “Stuff me full of you, daddy, and I’ll fucking soak you, I promise.”

“Fuck!” He growls as your hips speed up, and now he’s the one seeing stars. His face and neck flush into a bright red as he floods you with his release. And as if right on queue, the warmth and the feeling of him in you and seeping out of you is what finishes you. The constant stimulation on your clit from his pubic bone along with the angle his dick continues to prod at, you’re creaming and soaking him, just like he wanted. His thighs and even the area below his belly are drenched with the mixture of your guys’ fluids, and he can’t help but gawk at the scene before him. 

You are completely surrounded by the product of your two’s arousal (plus a bit of blood, but he doesn’t care), you continuing slow grinds as you work yourself through your orgasm, and the way that your head is thrown back in pure bliss—he’s entranced by it all. His cock is nearing the line of painful overstimulation with you still on him, but he really can’t find himself caring enough to get your attention. 

He thought he would never be into giving up his dominance, his yearn for control. But now that you’ve given him a taste at what you’re capable of, fuck, he feels downright insane if he didn’t want more of it. 

You realize he may not be used to the oversensitivity as much as you may be trained for, so you bring yourself to a halt and slowly slip off of him. You bring your eyes to meet his, and you can’t help the giggle that leaves your mouth, seeing the goofy, blissed out grin on his face as he looks at you. You lean towards his head and give him a sweet kiss to his lips and his nose, and you softly tell him that you’ll be right back but to stay here with a slightly more demanding tone. 

You quickly go pee in his en suite bathroom and wipe your bottom half down. You grab a pair of his boxers he leaves for emergencies under the sink (you let out a little chuckle at the fact), and grab a pad from the box he also leaves under the sink, for you, and stick it onto his underwear before shimmying it up on you. You grab another washcloth and soak it in warm water and walk back to the bed. You sit yourself up next to him and start wiping him down. As soon as you finish, you try your best and throw the washcloth, aiming for the sink of the bathroom, but you fail, miserably. It lands with a wet plop on the side of the toilet, centimeters away from landing in the toilet’s bowl. “Eh, that’s good enough,” you say to no one in particular as you nudge him to bring his hips up so you can take the towel out that he placed earlier to catch any of your blood drippings. You place it in the hamper, then you bring yourself to lay back down, cuddling into Joel. 

He turns so you both are facing each other again. His head propped up on his hand. His other hand runs up and down everywhere he can reach. 

“W-was what I did at the end there… was that okay?” you ask meekly as you slowly bring your eyes up to his. 

He lets out a hearty laugh, shoulders shaking. You weren’t expecting that kind of reaction. “Honestly,” he says as his fingers come to a stop and he just lets his arm wrap around you lazily. “I was really shocked when you flipped me over, but then,” he pauses for a second. Really just to spur you on more than anything. “I was so fuckin’ turned on and achin’ for you. I’d just about let you do anythin’ to me if you treat me like that, darlin’,” he says as he leans down to place a kiss to your lips. 

He pulls back and your gaze is away from him and your cheeks are as red as he was earlier. A shy smile paints your face. He brings his fingers up to your chin, “Oh, come on now, no point in gettin’ all shy on me now is there, my dirty girl?”

You give him the best reprimanding face you can muster (which he finds beyond adorable), and you parrot a common phrase he uses with you when you’re a brat, “Watch it, big boy.”

He laughs at your antics, but you see his cock twitch at the pet name. Your eyebrows shoot up. “Joel!” you say, actually reprimanding him this time, but you genuinely don’t know what for. 

His hand shoots to cover his mouth, an attempt at stopping his burst of laughter at your reaction. He lets go of his mouth after a moment and pulls you closer to him. He places kisses all over your face while you both giggle and let yourselves fall from your high together. 

He abruptly stops his kisses to look at you. He doesn’t say a word. “Yes?” you ask, curious of that mind of his. 

“Ya know how much I love you, right?” he asks, genuinely. 

“I think I’ve got a pretty good hint, baby.” 

“Good,” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“And I love you so much, you do know that, right?” you offer as you bury yourself into his chest, inhaling his musk mingled the faint aroma of you.

He repeats your response back to you. You smile in his chest. It’s you who places a kiss atop his heart this time. 

You both stay wrapped up in each other for a few more hours before your tummy begins yelling at you for sustenance. Though, until that happens, you two lie in each other’s arms, wondering what you did to deserve such an all-consuming, raw and genuine love. 

Your mother was right. You really were the brightest flower in the garden, and it was all because of your big, macho man, who was actually as soft and cuddly as the clouds that bring water for the garden. Ever since he entered your life, he made sure those clouds poured all their attention on you. Giving you all the water and nutrients, all the love and care that you would ever need. 

Forever. 

End note: Thank you so much for reading! As always, your support is always always appreciated. There's no amount of words to describe how grateful I am for how much love I receive from you all. You're all too amazing. Feedback is also greatly appreciated, whether it's praise or constructive! Anything and everything helps me to be the best writer I can be. I love you all so very much💚💚💚

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @teatree121 @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[sgiandubh]

From barf bag to pity party

The whole 'Kick in the hornets' nest' involuntary series was started by this Anon, received by the de facto leader of the Disgruntled Tumblrettes yesterday evening (in Europe):

The next morning, another Anon chimed in, on the same page, with what prompted the First Kick: S has a child with 'a woman', but God forbid, not with C 🤣🤣🤣.

And then, one of their group felt the need (then the clearly irritated urge) to come back and comment on the above Anon. No less than 5 (five!) long and plethoric comments were written, prompting my Second and Third Kicks - as you all know, the woman practically begged for them.

I feel it's time to show some mercy and draw the line here.

This blog is read (and trusted) by many. Comments were received. Very interesting, matter-of-fact submissions, to say the least. You know: FACTS (🤣🤣🤣). People who have rich and full and loving lives, people who travel. People who don't even agree on many things, yet spontaneously concurred on what things very probably looked like, on that Palm Sunday morning.

Exhibit 1: Mom and Traveler #1 (a mom I am not - but I was a child, unbelievable as it might sound, and I absolutely confirm every single bit of it)

I am not yet ridden with dementia, and I remember very well waking everyone up at ungodly hours and refusing my mandatory afternoon siesta (a very bad habit we have in Southern Europe). I wish I would still have that same insane energy now. I also wish I would have kept my 3 year old fashion model food quirks - but that is another story.

However, I am a dog slave (not owner) and as such, I am taking Baby out for his short (but excruciating) morning routine at 7:30 AM. Come rain or shine. Beg him to finish his business with grace and dignity. He never listens. Labs are a charming, addictive handful and my Greek boy is no exception:

Exhibit 2: Mom and Traveler #2. Who happened to be in GLA on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2024 (for the thick people at the back!):

All that trip was abundantly documented on her own page. I am reasonably sure she might be reblogging this with her own pics from that day.

And now, for the real questions at stake:

Why make such an unbelievable fuss over an Anon with no pic, that I was reluctant to publish myself?

Why have a cosmic meltdown, in public nonetheless, if you do think this is such a pile of unbelievable nonsense crap? (*imagine the freakout in DMs, if this made the headlines!)

How many times has/have S (or C, or SC) been seen by Antis in GLA in similar postures, without a word being uttered in public?

Why would such an occurrence be An Event, outside of this (help me, I have no words) fandom?

Why insist with your crappy arguments, when it is plain to see you have got all your facts dreadfully wrong?

Why mention 'central Glasgow', when it is public lore (and included in Waypoints!) that S does not live there anymore? (* I blacked out the exact reference, which makes total sense - the least thing I would like to see happening is freaks like you stalking them)

One last time, you insist - comments 6 and 7 (wow, girl!):

First comment is a lie and if you read my Anon (and you know you all did and discussed it to oblivion) you'll have also read this:

Which part of 'he didn't approach' you don't get, in plain English, madam? I am lousy at drawing, but hey - for the cause (open in separate page, questionable humor included):

Second comment, I won't even get into it. God only knows what the hell you meant. I am Romanian and we tend to be a very sarcastic bunch - especially the Southerners.

You posted those at about 2:45 AM, local time (if you are, indeed, a Scot). That's 4:45 AM my time.

I am a lifelong sufferer of insomnia. You, madam, you are mad wae it, as they say in Glasgow.

Don't drink and post, seriously. It makes for a very #sorry hangover show.

And with this, I am done with you. All of you, in that corner. You showed me more than enough. You know there is substance to that Anon, despite the lack of a picture - hence the collective freakout.

From barf bag to pity party. Who knew?

[Later edit:] re-reading the sixth comment, I think she wants to imply it was the 'other child' - I was literally blind with sleep when I first saw it. Well, there is no evidence of whatever she is trying to explain (has she contacted The Climber? between midnight and 2 AM, local time?). Also, a 5 year old child is not a toddler anymore: kids are considered toddlers up to 3, only. That boy, as we all know (and I am sorry we do), has dark hair - where is the resemblance Anon noticed?

Desperate, grasping at straws, lying through her teeth and mad wae it, all the way.

@pamalissou, thanks for bringing us a third mom's POV in your reblog.

[lionheartslowstart]

Job

Woof, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. This season is always challenging for me. I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and it leaves me depressed and with absolutely ZERO energy. I almost always gain some weight, and I spend about half the day sleeping. And the depression, I cannot overstate it. The best way to describe it is that I'm hibernating, but I'm awake. Literally as soon as the clocks turn over, this becomes my life. It's a major bummer.

The good news is, I just got a job that should start a week from tomorrow. So that's exciting. Hopefully it will be a fun job that gets me out of bed in the morning and gives me just a little more energy to get through this time of year.

I'm a little nervous. Obviously, I haven't worked in a while. That's partially due to being in school, partially due to medical issues, and partially due to, well, just being disabled. But this being my first job in a hot minute is not the only reason I'm a little on edge.

I am, without a doubt, going to be the oldest person working there. The manager who interviewed me wasn't coy about it. She was nice, but she was blunt. She asked me why I was interested in the position and what I thought I could bring to the team. I was honest, and I guess she liked my answer. Still, I was a little self-conscious. Though some people have mistaken me for younger (some as young as 23!), I feel I am starting to look my age. Trauma aside, I am worried it's going to start limiting my options in life, especially in my career. That's not to say people don't become successful when they are older. Look at Melissa McCarthy and Tina Fey. And gosh that would be amazing if it happened to me. But it's certainly not the life I wanted or hoped for, and I have the added layer of being autistic who went most of my life undiagnosed. Meaning that, up until very recently, I never had the accommodations (or frankly, the grace) I needed to get through life unscathed. Please don't get me wrong, I'm very lucky in many regards. But I'm also scarred, traumatized, and FAR behind my peers. I honestly don't even feel comfortable calling them my peers anymore. It's embarrassing.

It's not just my career I'm worried about. Even my options in the workforce will undoubtedly be affected by my age. (Note, if you're new here, my career is in the arts, so when I talk about work or jobs, I'm talking about "normal" jobs that artists have to work to pay their bills.) My age and my work experience do NOT add up at all. It will be EXTREMELY difficult for me to find jobs that fit me correctly in terms of age, maturity, and life experience. At the very least, my new boss offered me an extra dollar an hour, I assume out of respect, so that was nice.

I don't know, I guess it's all finally catching up with me. I'm getting older, my body and face are changing, and my life is not at all where I wanted it to be. But I'm going to try really really hard to stay optimistic over the next few months. Like I said, this time of year is excruciating for me, and it's way too easy for me to spiral and sink down the rabbit hole.

So for now, I'm just going to start this new job, keep practicing pole, keep submitting for roles, practice self-care, and hope everything turns out okay.

[raggaraddy]

Sugar Daddy turned sour

Request: Hi!!!! read all of ur works its all amazing cant believe ur new.. can i request for a yan sugar daddy taehyung x reader x yan sugar daddy jungkook. they found out that that y/n have 2 sugar daddies and they lost their sanity(as if they even have that)...Thank u and YOU GOOD,KEEP GOING💜💞💞💞💞😘😁

A/N: I don't know how to post a reply to a personal message yet because I am new and Tumblr deficient 😅 But I hope you like the scenario ^-^ thanks for the request 💜

Here for Part 2

Summary: Juggling two guys and getting everything you want from them has always been easy for you, and Taehyung and Jungkook are no exception. Or so you thought.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of non-con, assault, cheating, violence.

Yandere! Taehyung

Yandere! Jungkook

Sunday.  Taehyungs day.  

You open your webcam, checking your eyeliner quickly in the startup view as you wait for the Tae to pick up on the other side. He pops up quickly a beaming smile filling his face.  

“Y/n! Baby, I’ve missed you.” He’s radiant. As happy and as bubbly he always is. 

You go along listening to him excitedly run through his past few days, telling you everything in excruciating detail as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another. He may be an adult but he certainly has a young soul. The whole while you feign attention, your fingers continually fidgeting with the diamond necklace or the matching bracelet he had sent you a few weeks back.

“How was your weekend?”  He finally gets around to asking. 

“Not so good. I always have to work so much," You complain, batting your eyes at the camera.  

“You could always quit and come live with me.” He jokes-but not really. It’s a topic he has raised 3 times already.  And you have the same answer ready as always. 

“Daddy, you know I’m a strong and independent woman. I could never let someone else pay for me.” You pout, running your tongue over your lower lip while pushing your chest up a little to draw attention.  “It’s just my rent is so expensive. I feel like I work just to pay the bills.” 

In truth, your rent is already being covered by someone else.  But he doesn’t need to know that. 

While you continue to run through the fabricated details of your weekend, Taehyung is distracted, looking down at his phone.  You know what's happening. It’s like a game. And you’re winning. Your banking app sends a notification, letting you know that K. Taehyung has just sent you a payment. 

You open it up. Yep. That's rent for the month.  Or more, money for that new TV you wanted.  

“Oh! Daddy, noo.” You whine down the camera. “You can’t.  I am okay. Really. Please don’t spend your money on me.” You frown if only to stop the smile that is fighting to fill your face. 

“I want to baby. I have the money, and I just want you to be happy. Don’t stress about bills okay. I’m here.” 

Sometimes, it’s almost too easy.  

“Okay Daddy, if you insist.”

Tuesday.  Jungkooks day.  

With Jungkook it’s a much more straightforward transaction.  He has said he wants to pay for you and he hates the back and forth pretences.  He just wants you to say thank you, smile pretty, and give him all your attention.  

“Do you need anything more for the week?” He asks through the camera.

“No Daddy, you take such good care of me. Thank you.” You smile. 

“You still have the weekend of the 14th off?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.  Off-screen you quickly scan through your calendar.  

14th, 15th and 16th: Jk weekend.  

Hmm, that came up quicker than you expected. You try to keep your booty calls with them as far apart as possible. 

“Of course, I’m so excited! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” You say, it been less than 100% truthful.

“Months.” He corrects with a surreptitious undertone.  

“Where are we staying this time?” 

You always insist to stay in hotels. Because ‘your apartment feels too busy and mundane, and you want the time you spend with him to be magical and undistracted’. Honestly, you just don’t want him, either of them, in your personal space. You purposefully chose boys who live a few hours away.  It’s hard enough to keep them separated in your everyday life with them being far away. It could only get messy for them to know where you live and how to reach you in person.

You’ve certainly gotten smart at this. Arranging the two men into different days of the week, scheduling them into your calendar to keep them apart and unaware of the other. Both had specifically said very early on that they do not want to share you with anyone else.  And that you were all theirs. And while both of them seemed to trust you, you knew their reactions would be unpleasant, to say the least, if they found out about the other. 

Sugar Daddies can be so possessive. 

But while both these men are very handsome, money is better and more reliable than boys. And if they are stupid enough to spend it all on you, why should you care.

The week passes quickly and it’s the 14th.  Once more you find yourself in the lobby of a 5-star hotel. Jungkook arrived in town early and sent you a message with the room number. 

Time to actually work for your money. 

You knock on the door only to find it slightly open.  Entering there is a trail of rose petals lining the floor leading into the suite. All the lights are dimmed with a warmth of candlelight filling the room. This is so typically Jungkook. Pulling out all the stops to try to impress. 

Dropping your bag at the entrance, you close the door behind you and explore inwards.  

“Daddy?” You call out in a singsong voice. Your heels clack on the tiled floor as you round the corner into the living room. Jungkook is sitting on the lounge, one leg crossed over the other, arms rested up over the back. You smile at seeing him. You always seem to forget just how stunning he is in person. 

“Which one of us are you referring to?” A deep voice startles you from behind. You jolt, spinning to see Taehyung standing behind you leaning against the wall.  

Holy fuck. 

Your mind starts to jumble through what is happening. Thinking about what it was that might have given you away. Evaluating how much they may know. And planning your next move.  

Damn it.  You doubt you’ll be able to smooth talk your way out of this with Jungkook. He’s too direct and absolute. So you’ll just have to accept that that relationship is over. However, you might be able to salvage this situation with Taehyung if you play your cards right. Being defensive should do the trick.

“What is this?” You snap, keeping focused on Taehyung. “This is such a violation of my privacy! You keep smothering me Taehyung! See this is why I tried to find someone else to hang out with.” You stomp your foot. He would always wrap around your finger so quickly with the little girl act. 

“Ha!” He blurts out a short laugh in contradiction to how you expected him to react. “Wow. No, go on. I want to see where this is going.” 

“Do you think we only just found out about each other?” Jungkook pipes up, coming from the couch. 

You sigh. You had almost saved enough for a holiday to the Maldives too. But they seem to know too much. Fine. You can burn both relationships. They were starting to get too clingy anyway.  “Whatever.” You roll your eyes. You got all you could from them. Time to move on to the next.

As you shrug them off, Taehyung steps into the path of the front door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Both he and Jungkook start to close in tighter. There is a cold tone to his words. Something far too close to a threat for your comfort. Even in heels, both men naturally stand taller than you which usually wouldn’t bother you. But with an unsteadiness to your footing and a very short dress on, in a dark room with two men you have used and spurned, you are feeling even more vulnerable than you feel you should. 

“Move.” You order. 

A smirk on his lips, Taehyung lifts his hand up and backhands you, knocking you back a few stumbled steps. You gasp, your hand clinging to your cheek, eyes wide in shock. He starts forward, Jungkook intervening, standing between the two of you. 

You can not believe he just hit you! He has never done anything like that before.

“No, don’t do that.” He stops Taehyung as he starts to swing again.  Shaking all over, you’re relieved that one of them is seeing sense.  You take the outstretched hand of Jungkook, lip trembling from the burn on your cheek. He draws you closer and you wrap into him for protection. In the same motion, his free hand swings down punching you in the stomach, doubling you over, dropping you to the floor. “If you hit her head, she might get spaced out. I want her to feel this.”

His words send a chill down your spine. This can not be happening.

“Are you crazy!” You gape, trying to speak while gulping down air. Your head is dizzy, your lungs burning.  Kicking off your heels for better movement, you climb back up to your feet not wanting to engage either man. Eyes focused you look past Taehyung to the door, storming forward. “I’m leaving. We’ll forget all of this, okay.” You bargain through short, panicked breath. 

Taehyungs large hand slams you into the wall, pressing his palm against your shoulder. He follows Jungkooks lead, pounding his fist into your gut. And then again. And again.  His hold removes letting you free and you plummet to the ground, crying within broken huffs while cradling your battered torso. 

“You’re right. That is better.” He laughs at Jungkook. 

“Stop!” You beg, unable to raise your voice above a soft yelp. 

“What's wrong baby? You wanted two men. Now you have them.” Taehyungs bright smile returns to his face. This time with an entirely different meaning than it had ever had until it shifts into a straight, harsh look that you have never seen from him. “Didn't you always say you wished there was some way you could repay me?” 

“You said that to me too.” Jungkook joins his side, both hovering above you, trapping you between them, the wall, and the floor. 

Leaning down Jungkooks hand follows you as you squirm away from him. His fingers wrapped around your throat and lift you up, keeping you against the wall. He takes advantage of you being stuck, leaning into you pressing his lips to yours as you resist as much as you can. 

“Baby, you’re going to pay us back for every dollar we spent on you.” He snarls. 

Taehyung turns your face to him, also forcing a kiss on you. “Don’t worry, Y/n, you’ll see that we know how to share.”  

Part 2

[mystikmoonlight]

Sooooo....this is my very first time EVER writing something like this. I did this totally on a whim for Gavin's birthday so please bear with me. I will appreciate any feedback but please, don't beat me to death....

Happy birthday my sweet boy Gavin!! 🎈

***NSFW - 18+ only please!***

Contains: Sex - female receiving - oral sex - fingering

Word count: 1800

Hope you all enjoy 😊

******************************************

You slowly open your eyes to the morning sun pouring into your bedroom, the sound of gingko leaves rustling in the light breeze that comes through your window. The feel of his breath at your ear as he nuzzles closer to you, fingers softly combing through your hair. You can't help but smile as you're reminded it is a very special day today. You turn your head slightly until your looking right at his beautiful features. Those amber eyes you remember all too well from years passed.

"Happy Birthday my love" you tell him in a whisper. "I can't wait to share this very special day with you." A slight smile plays on his lips. He pulls you closer until you can practically hear and feel his heartbeat against yours, matching rhythm as if you were always meant to be in tune like this.

"I couldn't wait too but lets not rush a good thing" he tells you in a low tone. "I want to stay here like this a little longer." Of course you oblige and push yourself against his large frame, taking in the warmth of his skin as you melt into him. He lets out a low moan as he cradles his arms around you.

"I've never been one for birthdays but with you, I want to savor every moment whether it's my birthday or not. "

Your heart melts at the sound of his words. You want to stay this way with him forever. He leans into you and places a delicate kiss to your lips, stroking your back with his finger tips, sending goosebumps down your spine. You can't help but to press into him harder, taking in all of him as he begins to kiss you harder, sliding his tongue to meet with yours. A light sigh escapes your lips and before you can blink, he's placed himself over top of you, hands pressing into the mattress on either side of your head. His eyes sparkle with lust and wonder as he takes in the beauty of the most precious thing in his life. You're practically squirming underneath him in anticipation for more, but he waits...

"W-what is it?" You manage to ask in a shaky breath.

"Everything." His response confuses you.

"You asked me what is it. If I said nothing I would be lying because you are the exact opposite of that. You are everything to me and always will be. I have dreamt for many years that one day I would be able to share my birthday with you. I never imagined it would actually happen."

Staring back at him with tears welling up in your eyes, you can't help but pull him down onto you and kiss him with the same hunger you've always starved for when it came to him. He caresses your body from your flushed cheeks down to your knees and you gasp whenever he gets close to your core. It drives him absolutely mad whenever you whimper at his touch, making him lash his tongue out to yours in a frenzy of circles and zig-zags as your left dizzy in his spell. 

He moves his head down and cradles his nose into the curve or your neck, planting light kisses onto your already glistening skin. He takes one hand and pulls down the straps of your golden yellow silk nightgown until your bare breasts are exposed before him. He savors the sight of your almost fully exposed body underneath him and another moan escapes him unexpectedly.

He continues to move his head further down until his mouth covers one of your breasts, lightly kissing and sucking on to one of your nipples until it was completely pert. You wiggle and whimper at the feel of his hot mouth taking turns between each breast, drawing circles over each nipple, sucking and licking until you can barely take any more of his teasing. He looks back up to you and can't help but smile at the torn look on your face as he continues to tease you with his hands and mouth.

You give him an earnest look wanting him to give you more and he knows it. He continues to play on your breasts with his mouth as he moves his fingers down your side to your hips and then to your aching core, already bare and waiting for him. He slowly slides two of his fingers into your already slick folds moving in and out at an excruciating slow pace. His slow movements cause you to cry out his name as if you were praying to him. He loves it when you cry out his name in sweet vain.

He begins to pick up the pace and slides another finger into you. You pant harder and rake your fingers through his already disheveled hair, pushing down on his head because you're aching to feel his tongue on your clit. But he pushes back driving you insane with the need to feel his soft tongue inside your folds.

"Not yet" he growls as he brings his mouth back up to yours, dancing circles against your tongue as he hums into your mouth. He feasts on your mouth while working his fingers into you, curling them until he hits your G spot and you cry out against his mouth.

He's officially gone mad to the point where he can no longer take the wait himself. He trails and grazes you with his teeth and lips down your jawline, to your neck, and slowly down your side to your hips. He lightly bites at the curve of your hip bone before moving to pry your legs open and bare all of you before him.

"My God....you are breathtaking" he manages to whisper with a shaky breath, hovering just inches away from your clit. All you can feel in that moment are the burning of his eyes all over you. You wiggle and writhe awaiting his next move.

He wastes no time before he practically swallows you whole into his mouth, his tongue darting around in all directions against your sex. You pant and cry as tears fill your eyes from the amazing sensation of his tongue on you. He's so good at the motions that you quickly begin to feel your core burning more and more, climbing up higher to your climax. You writhe and buck your hips to feel his mouth closer and harder on your clit. Your eyes flutter open and shut in complete and utter ecstacy.

With every stroke and lash of his tongue you feel like you could break into your orgasm at any second. And because he knows you so well, he suddenly stops and picks up his head, licking his lips before moving back up to feast on your mouth once more. You can taste the sweet and salty of yourself on his lips, agonizing for more. You're laying there before him at the edge while he wastes no time removing his sweatpants, his clock springing out and already so close to your sex. You cry and plea for him to enter you but he hesitates for a moment, savoring the sight of you once again before he draws his cock slowly into you. He stretches your walls as you gasp and cry out his name again. He groans at the sound of his name coming off your sweet lips and takes them into his once more. He lightly bites on your lower lip and closes his eyes until he is fully inside you, driving into you slowly.

He keeps his motions on the slower pace for a few moments, watching as you arch your back and hips up into him, taking him further into you. You can't help but bask in the feel of him filling you completely. As you relax your back and hips back down to the mattress, he picks up his pace and begins driving his hips harder and faster causing you to arch right back up into him. His face twists and contorts as he takes in the feeling your walls clenching against him. He can tell you are close to another orgasm and fights himself to hold off a little longer, mostly because he doesn't want this moment to end. You try to hold yourself as long as you can but the feel of him is just too much to bear any longer.

"Let yourself go" he says in a hoarse and dark voice.

You let yourself release all over him, walls clenching so tight around his cock, practically screaming his name as your orgasm rolls off of you. He follows suit shortly after you come down from yours, groaning and pressing his flushed cheek to yours as he rocks his hips hard against you, gripping your hips and digging his fingernails into you. You dig your nails into his back, over the scattered scars that trail down. He drives into you hard and fast until he finally releases himself and comes down from his high. His breath is ragged and hot against your ear. He plants kisses on your ear and cheek as he stays on top of you, not wanting to pry himself away just yet.

When he does move himself off of you for a moment, you already miss the feel of his warmth against you, but he doesn't stray too far away and moves up along to your side and pulls you back into his arms, his warmth wrapping around you once more. He lightly strokes your cheek as you close your eyes and savor the light touch of his fingertips.

You slowly open your eyes again and are met with his beautiful ambers, glistening with nothing but the love he has for you. These moments are all too perfect to rush but it feels like no time has gone by.

It suddenly dawns on you that you didn't get a gift for him. Your eyes go wide and you cover your mouth in shock at yourself. You're usually so meticulous about making sure everything is done right, especially for a day like today. He notices the change in your expression and asks you what's wrong.

"I, I can't believe I forgot to get you a birthday gift." Tears start to fill your eyes at the thought of your mistake.

"Don't worry about it, I've already gotten everything I could possibly ask for" his tone cool and calm.

You look to him with a hint of sadness in your eyes. He cups your cheeks into his hand and tilts your head up to meet his eyes. He kisses the tip of your nose, his expression soft.

"You are my gift....you are my everything and you always will be." ❤

[hermannsthumb]

nsfw prompt: hermann in lacy boxers. newt is verrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrry into it

Anonymous said: Follow up to the hermann's lacy briefs ask: newt wears tacky neon briefs and Hermann is Just As Into It

loosely inspired by a conversation I had with @k-sci-janitor the other night 👀 second part isn't AS incorporated, but, I did try. not sfw below cut! (but it's more of an M)

------------

“Well, shit,” Newt says.

As far as lab accidents go, it’s not as bad as it could be. Neither of them are bleeding, for one thing. All their limbs are still intact. And only a very small portion of the lab is on fire, not even anywhere near Hermann’s shit, and Newt manages to deal with it before it spreads by deploying the emergency fire extinguisher in record time. True, their clothing is splattered with a very mild (non-lethal!) amount of kaiju blood, and true, it does sizzle worryingly at first (kaiju blood will apparently eat through cotton like nothing), but Newt’s grown very adept with dealing with these sorts of things. (He kind of has to—they happen every other day.) “In ya go,” he says to a stunned Hermann cheerfully, tugging him along to the decontamination shower by his elbow. “Don’t be shy.”

It takes Hermann a few seconds of pleasant silence to get over his initial shock, and then he begins bitching. “This is the final straw!” he declares, along with stuff like “I can’t take your incompetence much longer!” and “I will be submitting several complaints to the Marshal about this!”, and even smacks Newt’s ankles with his cane a few times. Once he realizes that there’s now a neat little hole burned into the front of his sweater, though, and an even larger one spreading by the shoulder, his complaints fade away into weak sputters, and he doesn’t make as much as a peep when Newt shoves him under the freezing spray.

“Sorry, dude,” Newt says. “How was I supposed to know kaiju blood was combustible?”

Hermann growls at Newt.

As per lab containment protocol, once the shower is turned on, the lock is engaged, and they’ll only be allowed to exit once they’re deemed sufficiently toxin-free by the...toxin-censors, or something. Newt's still not really sure how it all works. That, or, you know, if one of them punches in the override code. But that kind of takes a while, and Newt kind of did need a shower anyway, so he decides to just roll with it and let himself be sanitized. Better safe than sorry. Even though he’s pretty sure that blood was neutralized. Probably. It is a little worrisome that it was dissolving the fabric that fast, since Newt hasn’t had that happen to him before. “Okay, warning,” Newt says, “I’m gonna take off my clothes. You might want to, too. I’m not sure why that had the reaction it did but we probbbbably don’t want to get it on our skin.”

“No,” Hermann says.

“Tough luck, I’m gonna get naked,” Newt says. “It’s happening. You need to, too.”

“Absolutely not,” Hermann says.

“Safety protocol!” Newt shouts.

It’s hard enough to shimmy out of his skinny jeans bone-dry, but in the shower it may as well be impossible, especially since he forgot to take off his boots first. Also, it’s hard to move even a foot without bumping his ass against Hermann, and Hermann growls (like, seriously, what?) again each time he does. Newt finally succeeds in stripping down to just his undershirt and neon-green boxers, and since a quick once-over confirms his skin seems to be totally burn-free, and he can't feel any sort of excruciating pain that would suggest otherwise, he decides he’s fine to just stop there. No reason to needlessly flash Hermann his junk. When Newt turns around, he’s almost surprised to see Hermann in the exact same position as before: clutching the shower railing for dear life, his eyes fixed directly at the ceiling.

Oh—Newt’s dumb. Hermann left his cane outside. A wet shower is already potentially treacherous, but a wet shower without anything but a crappy railing to properly stabilize himself definitely is. “Okay, look, don’t take this the wrong way,” Newt says, “but can I help you undress? I just mean—it’ll probably be hard for you to do it like that.”

He points to Hermann’s iron grip on the railing. Hermann shakes his head.

“I would rather you not,” he says. He looks down at Newt's briefs, goes red in the face, and looks back up.

“Hermann, seriously.” Newt steps forward with a sigh and tugs on Hermann’s blazer. “It’s a safety thing. I promise I won’t look at your old man bloomers or long johns or whatever, you just seriously need to take this all off so I can make sure you’re not hurt.”

“Stop it, Newton,” Hermann grumbles, and then, when Newt gets the top few buttons undone, full-on snaps “Newton!” and pushes Newt away. "Get off of me."

Newt is not dealing with this shit right now. It's one thing for Hermann to be pissed at him when they have a whole lab between them and plenty of space to cool off, but crammed in to a tiny shower together where he's within arm's distance of a grumpy Hermann, who would probably joyfully throttle him at any moment, is just not how Newt wants to spend the next twenty or so minutes. Especially not when all he wanted to do was make sure Hermann wasn't getting literal acidic burns. It's a completely un-cool way to repay a kindness. “Fine!” he says, and throws up his hands. “Whatever! I don’t care. You always have to make everything weird."

Hermann glowers at him, which looks pretty silly, because it's hard to take him seriously with his hair plastered to his head like that. Then, (to Newt's surprise) he reaches a trembling hand up to his top button. “I will do it myself,” he says. “But please look away. I need—privacy.”

"Privacy," Newt echoes with a snort, but obliges. Anything to get Hermann to cooperate is a-okay with him. Once he's got his back to Hermann, he hears Hermann's clothing hitting the ground with a series of small wet splats against the tile. Blazer, sweater, button-down, pants. His belt jingles when it drops. Despite the chill of the water, Newt feels the back of his neck grow warm. Hermann is practically naked behind him. Newt doesn't think he's seen Hermann any nakeder than his pajamas before, once when they dragged themselves to LOCCENT at three in the morning for a kaiju alert system test run and he got an eyeful of Hermann in a dressing gown and slippers. Even that was almost too much for Newt. "Any burns?" he says over his shoulder.

"Er," Hermann says. "I think—"

"Well?"

Hermann is silent. "I'm not quite sure," he finally says.

Newt sighs. "Okay, just let me—"

Newt's scientist mode kicks in over his holy shit Hermann is semi-naked next to me mode (and, okay, maybe his protective over Hermann mode kicks in just a little too), and he turns to Hermann unthinkingly to assess any possible damage. And then freezes in place. Because, well. He's not sure what he expected—maybe Hermann scowling and shivering in some dorky little striped boxers and an undershirt, or maybe that he layers up on undergarments just like he does sweaters.

He is absolutely, one-hundred percent not expecting to see Hermann in a lacy blue pair of underwear and a matching bralette.

And, well. At least the water is cold. Newt doesn't like to think about what sort of physiological response his body might have otherwise.

As it is, Newt just sort of stares at Hermann. And his sexy underwear. Or maybe he gapes. He definitely does when he realizes that it's not just plain sexy underwear—both pieces have little gold stars embroidered across them—and it's simultaneously so cute and so much sexier that his knees begin to wobble, and he's worried he might pass out. Hermann stares back, chin raised almost defiantly, his jaw set hard. Neither of them speak.

Then Newt clears his throat and makes an attempt at it, because he's not sure what else to do if not play it cool. "Um," he squeaks. "Um. I don't—I don't see any burns." Newt does not look anywhere else on Hermann's body, so there's a good chance that's a lie. It's kind of hard to pull his eyes away. "Are you—do you—" He takes a deep breath. "Do you always...?"

"No," Hermann says. He works his jaw back and forth. "Well, go on, then."

"Go on what?" Newt says. Is Hermann sensing the (frankly) pornographic thoughts racing through Newt's head at a mile a minute and giving him permission to act on them? Because Newt doesn't have a problem with that. He 100% does not have a problem with dropping to his knees and begging Hermann to let him put his tongue on him through the lace, or groping Hermann's chest through the top...

"Tease me," Hermann says. In a sexy way? Newt wonders, because he can do that, and he's all set to start grabbing Hermann's ass or something when Hermann clarifies "I know you want to tell me how silly I look."

Oh. That's dumb. "Why would I do that?" Newt says. Before he can help himself, he blurts out, "Dude, you look fucking hot."

"What?" Hermann says.

The shower shuts off, and an alarm beeps twice as the door swings open. The emergency protocol seems to have ended. Neither Newt nor Hermann make a move to leave. "What?" Hermann repeats again, a little quieter. He's looking at Newt like he's grown a second head.

"It looks," Newt says, "um, hot. I like—" He feels himself blushing furiously. He's not sure where to stare—still at Hermann? Or does he force himself to turn his gaze to the floor or over Hermann's shoulder or something? He can see one of Hermann's nipples through the lace top. Oh, my God. "I like how it looks on you." (Insane understatement.)

Hermann falls silent again. "You do?" he says.

"Yeah," Newt says. "Do you—like, every day? Or?"

Hermann shakes his head. He's watching Newt with a carefully guarded expression, like he's still skeptical that Newt is telling the truth and isn't about to just start laughing at him or something. "Not at all," he says. "Er. This was rather unfortunate timing. It's—well, it's a way to feel more confident, I suppose, when I've had a rotten week."

Newt doesn't start laughing, of course. Newt inches closer. He likes the contrast of the dark blue against Hermann's skin, and he wonders how soft it is. He wonders if it would feel soft to him, too, if he touched it, or dragged his palms up and down Hermann's chest. He wonders if Hermann would like that. "I often," Hermann says, and then his voice trails off.

"Huh?" Newt says, somewhere to the vicinity of Hermann's belly button.

Hermann clears his throat. "I often think of you. What you would do, if you saw me this way, and..."

Newt finally snaps. "Can I touch you?" he says.

Hermann nods, the smallest, shyest little smile on his face. "If you'd like," he says.

[dadsbongos]

spiriting

Insert Coin - Chapter 2 / Series Masterlist

Waking up to the cursed sound of Monokuma’s voice, (Y/n) let her body remain in the warm confines of her duvet. Her eyes were heavy and burned whether she had them open or not. Turning, she let her back rest against the mattress, endless stare settled on the ceiling.

Every time she went to close her eyes, Byakuya’s bloody corpse was staring her in the face. His voice festered between her ears as it called her name. Quite possibly the last thing he’d said to anybody was him calling her name for help.

Stabbed over ten times between his abdomen and throat.

It must’ve been excruciating. To be working to bring everyone together only to be brutally murdered in your endeavors.

She can only hope death was quick to lay its merciful hands upon Byakuya’s soul.

And to be boiled alive, even.

A hand came up and over her heart, scrunching up the fabric of her sleepshirt, a new wave of misery banging at her brain as she thought of Teruteru. The Ultimate Cook. No, their Ultimate Chef. The least she could do was honor his wishes in her mind.

To be slathered in slimy batter and caked with breading was a mere inconvenience in comparison to being boiled - being cooked. The heat. The bubbling and popping of your skin as you quickly simmer.

It made her queasy just to think about.

All that pain, all that suffering - brought about by the hands of Nagito Komaeda. The sweet-faced, gentle-smiled boy of luck. The same boy she was planning on meeting in the dining hall.

Sighing through her nose, (Y/n) slowly rose from her bed before swinging her legs over the edge of her bed frame and pushing up to a complete stand. Her body felt like gelatin, mind in a foggy haze as she moved towards her closet, pulling off her makeshift pajamas and trading them in for cleaner versions of the clothes she already had on.

Exiting her cottage, (Y/n) was sure to lock her door before stowing the key away and heading towards the dining hall before anybody sent out a search party for her. The sand crunched under her shoes as she made her way to the dining hall, hopefully, the others had somehow forgotten about the entire night prior. If she could be the only one with the horrid memory of their friends’ deaths, she’d be happy.

Ultimate Peacekeeper and yet she couldn’t even keep two people alive.

Clenching her teeth, (Y/n) shook her head - if she thought like that then she’d be too busy throwing herself a pity party to focus on any of her peers. She reached out to open the dining hall door and stepped inside, and for a split second, her heart picked up at the thought of finding another body.

A corpse laid across the floor and Monokuma’s wretched voice bringing about another body discovery announcement.

Once again, she forcefully shook off her thoughts and pushed forward. Everyone was there. No, two people were missing.

Fuyuhiko, which was no surprise, seemed an avid supporter of being the “lone wolf” of their group. Nagito, on the other hand, was almost never by himself - despite his previous exclamations of being unworthy of a friend, he surely liked the company of the people on the island.

(Y/n) sidled herself up beside Hajime, giving the boy’s side profile a gentle, unnoticed smile - he looked exhausted, “How’re you feeling?”

“Hm,” Hajime flinched at the sudden noise, turning to lock eyes with the mediator, “I feel…” he looked down at his plate sadly, “fine.”

“Alright,” she pat his back, “if you need anything, I’m always available. It’s what I’m here for, Hajime.”

“Right,” the brunette nodded, he let his shoulders droop, defenses falling ever so slightly, “thanks, (Y/n).”

“Of course,” she nodded, looking around the dining hall once again and quirking a brow, “is it just me or… are there people missing?”

Before Hajime could answer her question, Monokuma appeared suddenly inside the cafeteria - frightening a few of the students. Hajime’s brows furrowed, “You can't just pop up out of nowhere like that!"

"Puhuhuhu, but I can!" what a high-pitched drawl, (Y/n) suddenly thought - she’d always been taught that villains have sickeningly deep voices and here Monokuma was, proving her entire life wrong, "I'm here to deliver the next motive!"

"A motive?" Hajime tilted his head in the midst of his confusion.

"It's not that I don't think you all love participating in my super fun killing game or anything..." Monokuma fidgeted, faking a new shy persona, "But, of course, I thought it would be even more fun to give you guys a motive!"

"Well, we've taken care of everything,” Kazuichi immediately rebuffed, “No one is going to kill anymore, no matter what your motive is!"

(Y/n) swung her head to look at the Ultimate Mechanic, “‘Taken care of’, what are you talking about?”

"Whatever you say!" the black-and-white bear waved off, clearly in disbelief of the boy’s words anyway, "If you're interested, there's an arcade machine in Jabberwock Park with a game on it that might have some cool info for you! And that’s as much as you’re getting from me, bye for now!"

"Ooh, fun!" Ibuki blurted out as Monokuma disappeared.

"Fun?” Hajime shook his head, irritation clear on his face, “No! Guys, we absolutely cannot play that game. This is Monokuma's attempt to trap us. Who knows? The game could be filled with lies to get us to kill each other!"

“Hajime’s right,” (Y/n) nodded, “If anyone plays that game, a murder is likely. I know it’ll be hard but we have to do our best to keep alive.”

Hajime could be a good leader. Strong, independent, commanding - a good man. He could be great. Then again, so was Byakuya.

Mahiru looked around and asked the question (Y/n) had before Monokuma arrived, "Wait, where's Nagito?"

Hiyoko giggled, covering her mouth with her hands as she did so, "He's probably too ashamed to show his ugly face around here.”

"No," (Y/n) interrupted, “I don’t think he’d be so self-conscious.”

"Don't worry about it,” Kazuichi waved off, locking his hands behind his head, “He isn't going to bother us anymore."

"What did you do?" (Y/n) pushed herself away from Hajime and toward the mechanic.

"Kazuichi, you probably shouldn't say stuff like that..." Nekomaru’s voice was strange - hasty, as if he was trying to hide something.

"Nekomaru, Kazuichi," (Y/n)’s brows furrowed as she looked between the boys, “Tell me, right now, what did you two do?”

"Well, we..." Kazuichi glanced at Nekomaru, "Took care of him this morning."

"You guys killed someone?" Mahiru exclaimed, face running pale.

"No! What the hell? Of course, not, we didn't do that!" Nekomaru shook his head as if he couldn’t fathom how his suspicious behavior could lead to that conclusion, "We found him on the way here and... tied him up. So he couldn't do anything drastic again! He's on the floor of the room we had the party in, he's- he'll be fine."

"So you guys - without telling anyone - kidnapped Nagito this morning and just left him tied up?" Hajime turned his head between the two, obviously done with the idiots, "Do you understand why that possibly wasn't the most fantastic idea?"

"What were we supposed to do, just let him run around acting like that?" Kazuichi asked, exasperated, "It's fine! He'll live, we just have to bring him food or something once in a while..."

"Now that we're in this mess, it will be difficult to pull us out," (Y/n) crossed her arms, thinking over the situation, “I’ll keep watch over him. I was going to do so anyway, but two people,” she glared directly at the boys of the hour, “decided to act without consulting the group,” as Mahiru prepared a plate, (Y/n) continued, “Just leave Nagito to me, I’ll be a babysitter for him - if anybody has an issue with him, please don’t act on your own until necessary. It could do more harm than good.”

Handing over the plate, Mahiru gave the peacekeeper a nervous smile, "Be careful, okay? Just run outta there if anything weird happens."

“Right,” (Y/n) nodded, taking the plate, “Kazuichi, Nekomaru,” the two hesitantly looked over to her - it felt horribly similar to facing a disappointed parent - she pursed her lips before giving a sympathetic grin, “I get where you two were coming from and I appreciate it, but don’t do something like this again. It’s dangerous.”

The two murmured out their agreements as (Y/n) left.

Crossing from the dining hall to the old building, (Y/n) flexed her fingers as she walked, gut knotting up inside her. Byakuya died there. Her friend, and to some extent, a role model. All because of the man she was going to be spending the rest of their stay at Jabberwock with. She had to. She needed to keep tabs over him if they wanted to avoid something like the party again.

Her hand stopped at the door handle, fingers resting against the cool metal.

She could just let him starve, it’s not like anybody would care. Nobody would check the old building anyway.

Shaking her head, (Y/n) pushed the door open - she’s supposed to be the Ultimate Peacekeeper and she was already dropping the ball with two deaths and a kidnapping. Letting Nagito starve was just a cruel and unusual punishment. An impulsive thought she'd never act on.

And so, putting one foot in front of the other, she continued down the hall Teruteru did. To find Nagito.

[librarianbusdriver]

Ted: Okay, where was I? You were telling us how you met mom. In excruciating detail. Right. So, back in 2005, When I was 27, My two best friends got engaged, And it got me thinking, maybe I should get married.

*Sigh*

And then I saw robin. She was incredible. I just knew I had to meet her. That's where your uncle barney came in. I suggest we play a little game I like to call Wait, no, no, no. We're not playing "have you met ted?" Hi. Have you met ted? So I asked her out. But after just one date, I was in love with her Which made me say something stupid. I think I'm in love with you. What?! Oh, dad. So then what happened? Nothing. I mean, I'd made a complete fool of myself. So, a week went by, and I decided not to call her. So you're not gonna call her? You went from, "I think I'm in love with you"

Trapped, the same hollow, dull story repeating again, and again, and again all around me. No way to change its course. No way to do anything but just... watch.

To "I'm not gonna call her"? I wasn't in love with her, okay? I was briefly in love with the abstract concept Of getting married. It had absolutely nothing to do with robin. Robin. Hi. Look who I ran into. Since when do you guys know each other? Oh, since about... Here. Lily recognized me From the news and... Hello, sailor! They just got engaged. Well, I should get back to the station. See you, guys. Nice seeing you, ted. Yeah, you, too. Thanks. What? Damn it! I'm in love with her. As your sponsor, I will not let you relapse. You blew it, it's over, move on. I don't know, I just have this feeling She's the future mrs. Ted mosby. ( Lily squeaks) Lily, you squeaked? She said something about me, didn't she? Come on, spill it, red! Fine. So, what do we think of ted? ( Iaughs) Ted's something else. Huh. I'm gonna spin that as good. Lots of guys are something, I'm something else. Comes on a little strong. But, that's part of my charm. But, that's part of his charm. Oh, totally. I mean, he's sweet, he's charming, He's just looking for something A little bit more serious than I am. I mean, the most I can handle right now is something casual. This just stays between us, right? Are you kidding? This flapper? Fort knox. Oops. She wants casual. Okay, I'll be casual. I'm going to be a mushroom cloud of casual. Cause it's a game... I want her to skip To the end and do the whole happily-ever-after thing. But you don't get there unless you play the game. So, are you going to ask her out? Yeah... No! I can't ask her out, Because if I ask her out, I'm asking her out. So, how do I Ask her out without asking her out? Did you guys get high? I got it. I don't ask her out. I invite her To our party next Friday. We're having a party next Friday? We are now. Casual. Like inviting a hundred people over just to mack on one girl. Oh, and lily, that's my leg. You waited five minutes to tell me that? All right, so call her up. No, calling's not casual. I just got to bump into her somewhere. Now, if only I knew her schedule, I could arrange a chance encounter. That's great, ted... you'll be the most casual stalker ever. Put that ring on her finger, lily had been, Well, extra affectionate. ( chuckling ): Baby, no. I have a 25-page paper on constitutional law due Monday. Hey, I'm just sitting here, wearing my ring,

Wallachia, how I miss you.

My beautiful ring. ( Typing) Kind of makes wearing other stuff seem wrong. Like my shirt. Kind of don't want to wear my shirt anymore. Or... My underwear. That's right, I'm not wearing any. ( Sighs ) No underwear? Not even slightly. Ted: Guys. Boundaries. Robin ( on tv ): Thanks, bill. I'm reporting from the razzle dazzle supermarket On 75th and columbus... 75th and columbus. Game on! Where four-year-old leroy ellenberg has climbed Inside a grab-a-prize machine and gotten stuck. ( Panting ) And, all in the pursuit of a stuffed, purple giraffe. For metro news 1, I'm robin trubotsky. Engineer: We're clear. Robin: Thanks, don. Whew. Ted. Robin, wow! What are the odds? Oh, you know, just, uh, shopping for, uh, dip. I love dip. I mean, I don't love dip, I like dip... ( chuckles ) so, uh, hey, you, uh, Reporting a news story or something? Yeah, kid stuck in a crane machine. How sweet of you to call it news. Wow. Kid in a crane machine. Mm-hmm. You just had to have that toy, didn't you? Couldn't play the game like everyone else. You're all sweaty! Cute kid. Um, you know, It's so funny I should run into you. We're, uh, we're having a party next Friday, If you feel like swinging by. But, you know, whatever. Oh, I'm going back home next weekend. It's too bad it's not tonight. It is... It's tonight. This Friday. Did I say next Friday? Sorry, I guess I've been saying next Friday all week. But, yeah, it's tonight, the, uh, the party's tonight. But, you know, whatever. ( Phone rings) Hello? Hey, am I interrupting anything? No, no, I'm just writing my paper. Hitting the books. Yeah, well, you and lily Might want to put some clothes on. We're throwing a party in two hours. Okay, bye. What are you gonna do when robin shows up? Okay, I got it all planned out. She steps through the door... and where's ted? Not eagerly waiting by the door. No, I'm across the room at my drafting table, Showing some foxy young thing all my cool architect stuff. So, robin strolls over, and I casually give her one of these: "hey, what's up?" She says, "hey, nice place, et cetera, et cetera." And then, I say, "well, make yourself at home." And, I casually return to my conversation. Then, an hour later... "oh, you're still here?" I say, like I don't really care, But it's a nice surprise. And then, very casually: Both: The roof! Get her up to the roof, And the roof takes care of the rest. What's so special about the roof? Oh, the moon, the stars, the shimmering skyline. You can't not fall in love on that roof. We do it up there, sometimes. Solid plan, my little friend. But, may I suggest one little modification. Barney: That foxy young thing you were chatting up, Take her up to the roof and have sex with her. Crazy monkey style... That's not the plan. Barney: Well, it should be the plan. I mean, look at her. Ted, look at her. She's smoking! Thank you! Yeah... But, she's not robin! Exactly! Ted, let's rap. Statistic: At every new york party, There's always a girl who has no idea Whose party she's at. She knows no one you know, And you will never see her again. Do you see where I'm going with this? Barney, I don't think so. ( groans ) Scoping.

I miss it all. The childhood spent in that bountiful castle, the beauty of those rolling green fields...

( Imitates sonar beeping ) Scoping. Man, you're a dork. ( Accelerates beeping sound ) Target acquired! Now it's time we play a little game I like to call "have you met ted?" oh, come on, not this. Hi. Have you met ted? No. Hi. Hi. Do you know marshall? Lily? Woman: No. Hmm. Do you know anyone at this party? I work with carlos. Excuse me. Anyone know a carlos? No. No. On a silver platter. Bon appétit. I don't think so. Your loss, her gain. Excuse me. Can I show you the roof? It's magical up there. Sure. Ted: Wait, wait. Hey, hey, I got that roof reserved. Dude, robin's not coming. Hey, she's going to show up! She'll show up. Ted: She didn't show up. At least it was a great party. I ate, like, four whole cans of dip. You always know what to say, old friend. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. No, no, not right away... got to seem casual. ( Ringing continues ) Hello? I'm so sorry I missed your party. Who is this? Meredith? Robin. Oh, robin! Hey! Yeah, I, uh, guess you never showed up, did you? No, I got stuck at work. But, they finally got that kid out of the crane machine. Did he get to keep the purple giraffe? Yeah, they let him keep all the toys. He was in there a long time, And little kids have small bladders. ( Chuckles ) robin: I wish your party Was tonight. It is... the party's tonight. Yeah, uh... It's a two-day party, 'cause that's just how we roll. Uh, so, if you want to swing by, you know, it's casual. See ya. So, that was robin. What are you Doing to me, man?! I got a paper to write! I know! Sorry! It's terrible! I'll buy more dip! Ted! Ted, wait! Get french onion! Can you believe this guy? I got a paper to write. Okay, fine. But, it's got to be, like, super-quick, And no cuddling after. I'm the luckiest girl alive. You were so right about the roof! The roof! The roof is on fire, ted! That girl from last night... I took her back to my place, Spun her around a couple times and sent her walking. She will never find her way back, and there she is. How did she get here? Did you invite her? I have no idea who that is. She said she works with carlos. Who's carlos? I don't know any carlos. ( Frustrated groan)

The conquests... the blood of my enemies spilled, and villages burnt to the ground in my name.

Hi, you! You're back! I sure am. Mmm. Come on, sweetie, I need a drink. "Sweetie"? Really? ( Barely audible ): Help. Whoa! Whoa, rabbits! Come on, I got that roof reserved. All right. So, it's over between me and works-with-carlos girl. Whoa! That was fast. Yeah. I was trying to think, What's the quickest way to get rid of a girl you just met? I think I'm in love with you. What?! Thanks, bro. Glad I could help. What the... No, no, no. Come on. Sorry, ted. Great. What am I going to do when robin shows up? She'll show up. She didn't show up. All right. We threw two parties. Everybody had fun. Everybody wanged, everybody chunged. Now, the kid has got to get to work, And the kid is not to be disturbed. Repeat after me. I will not have sex with marshall. Both: I will not have sex with marshall. ( Phone ringing ) It's robin. Hello? Hi, ted. Amanda? Oh, denise! Sorry, you totally sounded like amanda. It's robin. Oh, robin. Hi. I totally wanted to come. I got stuck at work again. I feel like I live there. I'm sorry I missed your party, again. Hey, ain't no thing but a chicken wing, mamacita. Who am I? I guess there's no chance your two-dayer Turned into a three-dayer? It did, indeed. The party continues tonight. Yeah. Uh, last night, people were like, "keep it going, bro. Party trifecta." Wow! Okay, well, I'll be there. Great! See you tonight. So, that was robin. So, I threw a third party for robin... On a Sunday night. Well, this is lame. Lame... Or casual? Lame. Or casual? Hey, law books. Ready for a little 15 minute recess? Sorry, baby, I got to work. I need all my blood up here. Has anybody seen an introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923? Anybody seen a big-ass book? All ( muttering ): No. Woman: Hello, barney. Of course. You look well. Is it weird they invited both of us? Who? Who invited you? No one even knows who you are! I understand you're hurt, but you don't have to be cruel. Carlos was right about you. Who is carlos?! Hey, where the hell is my...? Oh...! Okay... An introduction to contract tort And restitution statutes from 1865-1923 Is not a coaster! Ted, I'm jeopardizing my law career so you can throw not one, Not two, but three parties for some girl that you just met Who's probably not even going to show up! I mean, where is she, ted, huh? Where's robin? Hi. Hi, robin. Wow. So, you threw all these parties for me? No. Oh, you thought that... No! I... Okay, yes. You got me. One of the reasons I threw these parties Was so that I could introduce you To, um, this guy. Uh, I figured, you know, Since it didn't work out between us And now we can just laugh about it... ( laughs weakly) Anyway, robin, this is... Carlos. Oh! Oh! She's still talking to carlos. I can still win this. I-it's not over. Okay, buddy. Time for the tough talk. Robin seems great, but let's look at the facts. You want to get married. And right now, There's a million women in new york Looking for exactly you. But robin ain't one of them. She's not just one of them. She's the one. Yeah, well, the one is heading up to the roof. What are you going to do? Nothing. It's a game. I got to just keep playing it. ( Rock music playing ) Ted... Hey, carlos, can you give us a minute? Hey, no sweat, hombre. See ya. Robin...

Will I ever be freed of this damnable place?

Look, I didn't throw this party To set you up with carlos, Or the one before that, or the one before that. I threw these parties because I wanted to see you. Well, here I am. There's something here, look, unless I'm crazy. You're not crazy. I don't know, ted. I mean, we barely know each other And you're looking at me with that look. And, it's like... Like, "let's fall in love and get married And have kids and drive them to soccer practice." I'm not going to force sports on them Unless they're interested. ( Iaughing ) It's a great look. But you're looking at the wrong girl. No, I'm not. I don't want to get married right now, maybe ever. I'd feel like I'd either have to marry you Or break your heart, and... I just couldn't do either of those things. Just like you can't turn off the way you feel. Click. Off. Let's make out. What? What? That was the off switch. And I turned it off. I mean, look, sure, yes, I want to fall in love, get married, blah, blah, blah. But, on the other hand... You, me, the roof. There's no off switch. There is an off switch. And it's off. No, it's not. Yes, it is. No, it's not. Yes... It is. No, it's not. You're right. There's no off switch. God, I wish there was an off switch! Me, too. ( Both laughing ) ( both muttering nervously ) What do we do now? We could be friends. Oh... I know it sounds insincere when people say that, But... We could. I don't know, robin. I've made such a jackass of myself here. We start hanging out, every time I see you It'll be like, "oh, that's right. I'm a jackass." You're not a jackass. Look, I'm sorry. I only moved here in April and I'm always working And I just haven't met a lot of good people so far. But I understand. Well, uh, maybe in a few months, After it's not so fresh, We could all, uh, you know, get a beer. Yeah. That sounds good. I'll see you, ted. Or, you know, now. We could all get a beer now. I'd like that. My friends are going to love you... Like you, you know, as a friend. Jackass. Unbelievable. That's just a recipe For disaster. They work together! Are you jealous? Oh, please. What does carlos have that I don't? A date tonight. All: Oh! Stop the tape. Rewind. ( Imitates tape rewinding ) a date tonight. All: Oh! I'm not sure I like her. Hey, don't you have a paper to write? Dude, you're talking to the kid. I'm going to knock back this beer. I'm going to knock back one more beer. I'm going to write a 25-page paper. I'm going to hand it in and I'm going to get an "a." My name is rufus and that's the trufus. ( Iaughter ) Ted: He got a b-minus. But still, 25 pages in one night, b-minus? The kid was good. At least let me buy you a beer. Come on, I'll buy everyone a beer. I'll help carry. You know something, ted? What? You are a catch. You're going to make some girl very happy. And I am going to help you find her. Well, good luck. I mean, maybe new york's just too big a town. I mean, there's millions of people in this city. How, in all this mess, Is a guy supposed to find the love of his life? I mean, where do you even begin? Hi. Have you met ted? ( Music rises over dialogue )

I do not know if I can, but I must.

[STAB STAB STAB STAB STAB]

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOUUU-

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

@badthingshappenbingo

So, it's time! After forever, I finally managed to fill my first prompt!

We got...pinned by wreckage, with some lovely ✨ Siblings ✨!

Time for Loki, and today you'll all get to know his younger brother too.

Also, you all are absolutely free to request something, a prompt with or without some specific...dynamic, if you will! I take forever to make decisions by myself, sooo,,, yes!

Fandom: Original work

Prompt: Pinned by wreckage

No. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was bad, this was so bad. He whimpered as he pulled his arm out underneath a jagged piece of metal, tearing through his sleeve and leaving long, bloody marks that were sure to stay. Though, that was the last thing he'd have to worry about now.

Loki's attempts to prop himself up and push off the rubble laying atop him that was keeping him pinned to the floor, making his breaths each involuntarily shallow and painful, so painful, were cut short as he just didn't find the strength to push himself up, not even an inch, before his arms buckled under the weight again. Tears blocking his vision, blurring what was left after his glasses had been knocked off his face and a few feet away almost entirely beyond recognition, a choked sob escaped him.

What he tried, he couldn't get rid of the weight on his back, he couldn't free himself of the rubble keeping his legs trapped and unable to move - if he could move them anymore at all, at this point. Calling the lack of pain, the lack of general feeling below his hips frightening would be an understatement - it was excruciating.

The dust that was slowly settling to the ground was tickling, itching in his throat, his lungs, aggravating the shudders that ran through him as he tried everything to keep himself from crying out - his chest had no space to rise after all, he'd suffocate from not getting enough air, he was sure of that.

And yet, all his attempts were not enough - a cough he couldn't keep anymore rippled through him, another one, his throat was burning, the pressure on his chest getting more and getting heavier and more tears were running down his cheeks and falling to the ground where they mixed with the dust and he cried out and he couldn't breathe there was no space anymore he couldn't move he couldn't breathe-

The repulsing, metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, and he spit out, droplets trickling down the corners of his mouth - Did he bite his lip, his tongue in his fury? Did he bite his lip, or did it come from further down, from where he could just assume that something must've been so badly damaged? It didn't matter now - What mattered anymore? There was blood running down his chin, there were bricks on top of him, there was not enough air for him-

The faint shimmer of lights shining through the piles of rubble and dust in the air before him slowly started fading. His coughs subsided, left was his pathetically small, weak form, shuddering violently and panting shallowly against the ground below and the rubble on top.

There was no way out of this anymore.

He couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Closing his eyes, he lay his head down. No one was coming for him. Not fast enough. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Mikkel's arms once more - Than to make up with Egill again - Than to argue with Lucia over the consequences of being careless with fire just one more time.

Just one more time, please.

Something was wrong. So, so wrong. Egill winced as his mind would not let him rest, kept him nervously fidgeting with the handle of the knife he kept in his pocket, his eye scanning everyone passing nearby, every corner he could catch from where he was sitting on a bench a near the town square. Where was Loki? Surely he should have passed here by now on his way to his favorite cafe, as he did regularly - not to get actual coffee, but just for the sake of the cookies they sold there. The big ones, chocolate dough with white chocolate chips and cinnamon frosting. Every time the same order, no exceptions so far.

Before he realized it, he was up on his feet again, heading away from the town square, his phone in hand. A few taps on his screen, taps he could execute blindly by now, and after just few seconds, a location popped up. A tiny smile found its way to his lips - after all his complaining, Loki still hadn't gotten around to remember turning his phone's location services off.

He was just going to check on him, make sure he hadn't gotten in trouble again - as a good little brother did. Or so he thought. There was no way for him to know. There was no way for anyone to know - anyone, except Loki himself.

A sinking feeling grew in Egill's stomach as he followed the streets further out of town, to where there were only fields anymore, only fields and the occasional long abandoned home. He could easily figure what Loki was doing out here, for he had never been much of a person for nature if it wasn't for that one particular cause, that one thing he could not control - though the lack of rising smoke wherever he looked only made the feeling worse, and the awful suspicions in his mind grow and become more by the second.

That was, until he once more checked the location in his phone. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, then ran. If his thoughts were running crazy earlier, they were now sprinting a marathon of insanity.

His hopes that this was all a mistake, that his phone must have been wrong, that this was all a false alarm were quickly crushed the closer he got to the wreckage of what once was an almost luxorious manor, where now only few walls managed to stay up, the rest little more than a massive heap of dust and debris.

"Loki!" Egill's voice rose significantly in pitch, cracking halfway through that single word. The closer he got, the bigger did the lump in his throat grow.

This couldn't be happening.

He didn't hesitate, stumbled right into the ruins - not caring about how jagged edges caught in his jeans, scratched up his shins, cut up his hand as he climbed atop of a pile, hoping to be able to see what, or rather who he was looking for.

"Loki, p-please! Are you here somewhere?" No answer.

While his worry was growing - if he was here, then it could be a matter of minutes anymore, who knew how long he had been here already after all - if it wasn't too late already - there was also a sense of...relief. He didn't find him yet. What if it was a mistake after all? Maybe he wasn't here at all. Maybe he was here earlier, but fled and just lost his phone. Maybe he was standing outside, laughing his ass off about how stirred up Egill was, how his mind went crazy at the thought of him losing his oh so precious older brother.

Maybe-

Something caught his eye. It took barely a second for him to register. Fabric. Red fabric. Red fabric, stained and soaked in something dark.

Something dark, staining not only the fabric, but also the ground.

"...no- NO!" Panic rising in his stomach once more, panic he hadn't felt before, Egill dashed over pieces of stone and metal - just to come to an abrupt stop before his brother, who was laying limply, arms tucked under his head as if trying to find the last bit of comfort one could possibly find here. Horrified at the sight, he dropped to his knees, ignoring the little and the less little stones pricking through his jeans. Egill gently took the other's face in his hands, desperately looking for any sign that he was going to wake up again.

"B-Big brother- Please-! Answer me!"

As expected, there was no response. He tried calling out once more, then again, again, though it was drowned out by his own sobbing. Every bit of hope he had left previously was gone, his life in shatters before him.

He couldn't help himself falling to the ground, head pressed against Loki's shoulder, hands curled into his shirt in a deathgrip. Unable to form any more proper words, he kept on sobbing, babbling apologies, tears soaking the shirt he was nuzzled up against.

He promised he'd never let him get hurt again. He promised, he swore it - and yet, here they were, and there was nothing he could do.

He failed. He failed again. He failed so badly.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, s-so sorry!"

Tears continued to spill, until -

until a tiny, almost unnoticeable movement let him flinch.

"...you...you little stalker...found me again…"

His eyes widened, and he looked down. "B- Big brother-?"

Pale blue eyes fluttered open, and for half a second, Egill thought he found something resembling a smile on Loki's lips.

"Y-you're okay! I thought- I thought I lost you- Hey! No, stay w-with me!"

Reaching for his phone, Egill barely managed to get his shaking under control far enough to be able to finally call for much needed help, all while not letting his gaze wander off the broken form before him for just a split second. As gently as his jittering hands would allow, he ran his hand across the side of his brother's face - wincing as he brushed over one of the scars that always seemed to bother him more than Loki himself -, through his hair that now had little left of how it looked before - the once bright, red strands matted by dust into a grey, knotted mess - and to his arm, down to his hand he grabbed tightly, in a desperate attempt to get him back to consciousness, and keep him there.

"Come on, you have to say something! Say something, you can't- You can't just give up! H-help is almost here, okay?! We- We'll get you out of this! But please- Please say something, say anything!"

It took moments, so many moments, before something came. It weren't words however - just the feeling of his hand being gently squeezed in return. It wasn't a lot, and yet so overwhelmingly much.

"Okay! Okay, good! Good, just- just don't let go! Don't let go again, I'll stay with you, and- and you just don't let go!"

Shifting closer, the other arm wrapped around his shoulders, Egill rested his head just next to Loki's - if he did so, he was faintly able to make out the slow, yet continuous heartbeat, the shallow, raspy breathing, giving him this one last, tiny sense of safety. He could make it. He knew it.

He knew it when he felt Loki shift a tiny bit himself, weakly melting into the embrace instead of fighting against it. And he was sure when Loki refused to let go, even when people started crowding and fussing, instead just giving once another small squeeze, accompanied by a moment in which Egill could now tell more of his old, genuine smile again.

Yes, he would make it, no doubt about that. Somehow, he always did.

Always.

[hardforbenhardy]

period | benxfem!reader

summary: your period is the bane of your existence, and makes being in a new relationship a little awkward. you don’t want ben to know, because your too embarrassed; but of course, he finds out

warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff

word count: 2.6k

i love ben just as equally as i love roger so i decided to write one for him, hope you enjoy :)

The stabbing pains in your abdomen wouldn't leave, you felt like you could barely even move without going to throw up. It felt as if your stomach had been tied in a knot a million times, so tight that it was impossible to take a breath. An ear-splitting thumping resided in the back of your head, the sensation of a hot rod being pressed against the right side of your head. Your eyes filled with hot tears which allowed themselves to roll down your reddened cheeks, wetting the surface indefinitely. The pain was almost unbearable; no matter how often it happened, you were never able to get used to it. It happened every single month - the same week, the same amount of days, the same symptoms. Your period was the utter bane of your existence.

You had been to the doctor about it multiple times, all they could do was prescribe pills to ease the pain, though they barely did anything. The only benefit of said pill was that you and your boyfriend, Ben, didn't have to bother with protection when you went at it (as long as you'd both been tested recently of course) Thankfully, it wasn't something the two of you shied away from conversing about; you were both very open to each other about your sex life and that's what made it so much better. You both knew exactly what each other liked, what each other didn't like, the best positions; after only 4 months of being together, you and Ben were inseparable. Which honestly confused you a little considering you still found it extremely awkward and embarrassing to talk to him about your period. You didn't really know why, you knew it was nothing to be ashamed of and that it happens to everyone; but it just made you feel that little bit weak and kind of gross. Thankfully, your period did only last 3-4 days usually, so it wasn't hard to hide away from Ben's company during the time period; you would usually explain you have a lot of paperwork to get done so you couldn't allow yourself any distractions. Admittedly, Ben was a little suspicious that you were always so busy that you couldn't even text him, at the same time every month; but he believed you and he didn't want to bug you about it. Even if you were lying to him, he knew it must've been for a valid reason. Or at least, he hoped. This month, however, he wanted to see you; he had major news that he wanted to share as soon as possible.

The alert on your phone broke the silence of the room suddenly, making you jump a little, which sent a shot of pain surging through your body. You rolled onto your side as carefully as you could, clutching tightly onto your stomach in an attempt to alleviate any pain you could, to pick up your phone and squint your eyes to read it.

Benny💓

Love, I know you're busy, but I need to see you - can I come over? I have some major news and I want to tell you first! x

You felt a wave of anxiety rush over you as you tried to think of an excuse to keep him away. Though the idea of 'major news' intrigued you, you were in no shape at all to even see Ben, let alone get excited about whatever he had to tell you. Therefore, in an attempt to scare him away, you texted him back.

You

Sounds lovely babe, but I'm really really busy and if I don't have this work done, I'm getting fired for good! Wait for tomorrow x

Benny💓

But I can't wait! It'll probably be all over the news by tomorrow - I promise it'll take like 10 minutes of your time. Surely you should take a break, you've been at it for 3 days straight now x

You

Ben, if it's that important, then you can text it me. You can't come over.

Benny💓

Love, are you okay? You sound a little off x

Have I done something wrong?

Love?

You knew he hadn't, and you knew you shouldn't be taking out your pain on him; but your hormones were making you much more impatient than usual. You didn't answer, instead just threw your phone on the other side of the bed and groaned loudly, the tears began to roll down your cheeks again. You hated, absolutely hated, being rude to Ben; especially when he did nothing to deserve it at all. But your patience was running thin and if the only way was to ignore him and his texts, then that's what you'd do. Of course it didn't work at all, because about 10 minutes later you heard the front door to your apartment click open and Ben's voice shouting through "Y/N?"

You shot up off the bed, ignoring the huge amounts of pain it sent through you, to his deep voice echoing through your flat. Ben was partly expecting to either see you at the dinner table surrounded by a sea of books, or strangely to be met with the sounds of your moans; but instead it was just silence. You admitted defeat, knowing you now had no chance of hiding away from him any longer, so you just remained curled up in your duvet. "In here" You rasply shouting through to the hall, hoping he would hear you're dishevelled voice. You knew he had once you heard his footsteps racing down the hallway towards the door, his excited voice shouting through "I got the best news today, babe, it was from the producers of that film I auditioned for a few weeks back- Babe?"

You could sense Ben was now in the room due to the fact his voice was loud enough and not to mention the fact the room was now flooded with a bright light which sent you blind for a second or two. The pounding in your head only worsened with the sudden beams entering your sight, making you groan loudly in excruciating pain. You felt the bed dip slightly beside you and a hand shake your shoulder, but you resisted turning to face him as you knew full well you looked like an absolute mess. "Babe, what's wrong?"

"Ben, would you just fuck off" You snapped, the anger surging through your body after he blatantly went against your orders to not come over. However, you instantly felt regret and turned to face Ben - "B-ben, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean that, I-I-"

"Y/N, please just tell me what is wrong, h-have you been crying? Have I done something wrong?" He breathed, his eyes beginning to glass over a little too at the sight of you, his mind searching for things he may have done to upset you in any way so he could reverse it, or at least try to. You went to sit against the headboard, trying your hardest to ignore the stabbing pains in your abdomen from the movement, which were making you wince loudly and more tears come out your eyes. Ben immediately grabbed the top of your arms to help lift you up, easing the strain the little and therefore the pain.

"N-no Ben, you've done nothing wrong I promise. I've just been ill for the past few days and I didn't want to trouble you was all" You rasped, your throat completely giving out. Ben furrowed his brows but immediately jumped off the bed to dial down the light to a more suitable level, knowing that it probably meant you had a headache and a bright light was the worst of situations for you right now.

"Love, not to be rude, but this isn't just feeling 'ill'. There is something seriously wrong with you - you are in pain whenever you move, you've got a migraine, you look like you've been crying all day every day, and you have bags under your eyes. Look, I'm calling the doctors and I'll get you an appointment, and in the meanwhile I'll stay here and keep you company, okay?" He explained, going to grab his phone out his pocket and dial the doctors.

"N-no Ben, you don't need to call the doctors! I promise, I'll be fine tomorrow, there's nothing to worry about"

"Y/N, there's a lot to worry about - you are in a lot of pain, and this happens every month at the same time, you block me out and by the sounds of it, everyone else. Please just explain-"

"I'm on my period Ben! Okay!" You snapped, your patience running thin. You honestly expected him to catch on to it by now, considering you weren't hiding it very well, but you had no choice but to shout it out. Your cheeks blushed when you realised what you had just admitted, and you went to pull the covers back over your head to hide yourself, but that didn't stop Ben from comforting you. You didn't notice his reaction to what you said considering you were too busy burying yourself in the silk sheets of your duvet.

"Honey, why didn't you just say so?" He comforted, making you peek your head out to look at him sat next to you. He climbed under the covers with you and pulled you tightly into his warm embrace, letting you sob softly into his chest.

"Because it's embarrassing Ben! We've only been together for a few months! It makes me feel weak, and I feel like a bitch all the time because of my hormones, a-and I feel gross" You stuttered, the positioning of your head mumbling the words and vibrating his chest softly. You felt Ben release a large puff of air and his arms tighten around your waist.

"Love, I'm not one of those guys who thinks you're disgusting because you menstruate. It's completely natural, and I couldn't care less if you are bleeding from your vagina or not - you tell me when you don't feel well and you let me care for you. I don't like seeing you like this - now I'm going to pop out for 10 minutes and then I'll be straight back, okay?" Ben grinned down at you, stroking his hand through your knotted hair in a calming manner. You groan a little at the idea of being alone again, but you know that Ben wouldn't leave you unless he absolutely had too so you nodded your head slightly, the movement straining your neck a little. A smile was plastered on your face at Bens word, however, feeling a little better about your period. At least you could talk to him about it now, and you would feel a little less removed or awkward. You felt shivers course through your body when Ben released you from his snuggly embrace and stood up beside the bed, pulling on his coat and grabbing the car keys. The ten minutes he was gone, you felt awful again - you felt nauseous, your headache was back, you felt like you we being stabbed a million times, but most of all you felt confused. With Ben by your side, you realised how alleviated you were of the pain from before, but all that was different was Bens comfort.

You were knocked out of your thoughts when the door slammed shut again, hearing Ben shout "I'm back" through the corridor. A grin stretched across your face when you looked up to see Ben stood in the doorway to your bedroom, holding 3 full shopping bags and also carrying multiple blankets and hoodies - his, to be exact. "I didn't really know what to get but I remember you telling me a few weeks ago that there were some movies you hadn't seen yet but wanted to watch, so I got them. I also bought you some chocolate - your favourite, obviously - and some ice cream. Oh, and I stopped at mine to grab you some of my hoodies because you always say how you like them"

"Only because they smell like you" You chuckle breathly, lifting your body to rest against the headboard and make grabby hands toward the bags, like a child asking for its sippy cup. Ben chuckled back, bringing the bags over to the bed and rushing to the kitchen to grab spoons so the two of you could dig into the ice cream. "I-I seriously can't thank you enough Ben, what did I do to deserve you"

"Love, you don't need to thank me. I love you so much, I don't want to see you like that ever again okay, so you tell me when you feel ill or upset so I can help you"

You couldn't really respond, your voice giving out, so you nodded gently and took a large bite of the mint ice cream. Ben laughed when you moaned at the sensation of the cold hitting your tongue, making you laugh too. Soon your mood changed, not in a bad way, but you found yourself crying instead of laughing. You seriously couldn't fathom how you had scored a boyfriend like Ben - he could have anyone he chooses, but he still chose you. Ben noticed that your laughter had turned to tears, and immediately dropped his spoon to help you.

"What is it love? Are you okay? Is it your cramps again? I got you some heating pads but I'm not sure how they work, let me just-" He fretted, but he was quickly stopped when he noticed me laughing again. "N-no, just hormones babe I'm fine. In fact, I'm a lot better now you're here- I guess you're like my cure or whatever. Could we watch one of those films you got and cuddle?"

He took one of the films out the bag and put in in your tv, while you stripped your top off and threw one of Bens baggy hoodies over your head, letting it bunch around your chin so you could smell the scent of Ben easily. It was your absolute favourite scent- there were all kinds of smells combined into one like some magical concoction; the smell of his cinnamon spice shower gel, his tea tree shampoo, cigarette smoke (which you didn't particularly like, but when tied in with everything else, it was like the cherry on the cake); but most prominent of them all was sandalwood. You considered this to be his natural scent, which you thought was a little ironic based on the fact that sandalwood's fragrance is closest to the human pheromone and is traditionally considered as an aphrodisiac, and you had never been more attracted to a man in your life. He chuckled at the sight of you taking a big inhale through your nose to really take in the smells, but you didn't care because you felt like you were in heaven. Ben threw himself back onto the bed, and cuddled up close to you, wrapping his arms around you waist and resting your head on his chest. Then you remembered the actual reason Ben had come round in the first place:

"What was your big news?"

"Oh, I completely forgot about that. I got that role I auditioned for a few weeks back, you know the one for that action movie." He grinned, making you squeal in excitement

"Really?! Ben that's amazing! I'm so proud of you!! How could you forget something like that!"

"Because whenever I'm with you, I swear everything else just disappears"

"I love you Ben Jones" You grin, your heart skipping a beat at his words. You had found the cure to your pain, when it had been there all along. It didn't surprise you one bit, but you were just glad you now had even more excuses to cuddle to the love of your life.

What did you do to deserve this man?

[thunderflight]

You don't want to see ghosts [Part 1]

I’m sure you’ve wondered what a ghost looks like.

With the advent and continual progress of technology, proving the supernatural has become a rather difficult task. Faked evidence pervades the stores of information we’ve gathered of supposed paranormal phenomenon. Blurs of light in photographs, flickering lights in haunted houses, and scratches on those who ventured into the territory of the dead...I always found them all to be quite lacking. It pales in comparison to what they actually look like. What they can actually do. And I would know.

Because I can see ghosts.

Do you know what it’s like to see the dead before you even have a concept of what death is? 

The photographs of me in my earliest days often show me staring off into the distance, eyes focused on something just beyond my parent’s shoulders.

When I was a child, I was told I had an overactive imagination. My family was not religious, nor did they believe in the supernatural. They had no reason to believe something was wrong. There was great concern over the drawings I would create, but they attributed it to mental issues. Dark figures floating in between the figures of me and my parents. Black and red crayons used in abundance.

I was taken to therapy. I was told that it must be an extension of my grief, my despair over my parent’s divorce. In reality, that was the least of my problems. I believed early on that either I would go crazy, or else I would have to ignore it. I tried for the latter, but I learned that it’s hard to ignore them.

Because, you see, if you can see ghosts, the ghosts can see you too.

Ghosts can’t always see living people, just as living people can’t always see ghosts. I think it’s related to how aware they are of their own death. But they can always, always see me.

Imagine me as a beacon for some of them. The one scent of life, a flame in the darkness, unable to hide.

Their appearance varies depending on their own perception, just as their ability to see the living does. They sometimes seem like they’re floating, suspended in some invisible liquid. Sometimes they walk on their feet. Their hair flows around their heads. The easiest ones to handle are the ones that don’t quite yet understand that they are dead.

They’re looking for closure, I think. They’re usually people who were murdered or died suddenly, their short life snuffed out by some cruel force, or else there's something here that still ties them down to the earth. They still look human, at the very least. Usually, they sport the wound that killed them. I grew unphased by the sight of blood and viscera. I’d seen more bleeding orifices, severed limbs, decapitated heads, and spilled intestines by the time I was five than any soldier probably would in their entire lifetime. Or so I guessed. So I grew pretty desensitized to it.

They’re sad, almost, these hazy specters. I feel pity for them in their decrepit state. They gaze at me with sunken eyes, groaning and moaning, reaching out to me with transparent hands like cold hands seeking warm fire. I used to be terrified of them, but I learned that they can’t really touch me. It feels colder when they brush my skin, but that’s about it. I wear a lot of jackets.

However, the most terrifying ones are those that understand they are dead.

Their flesh rots visibly. Their eyes flash with dark bitterness, a rage so unsettling that it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up straight. They snarl and drool. They walk unnaturally, sometimes on all fours. Often times, it seems as if they’ve twisted into something more than human, something dark and ungodly. I hate it when they see me. Sometimes they try to swipe at me, screaming with pure rage. Most of them are too weak to affect me, but it sends a cold chill down my spine, making me shiver. I had to learn to ignore those screeches too, that inhuman rage. Luckily they aren’t as frequent, but sometimes they make my day a living hell. They tend to follow me a bit before giving up, unless they’re grounded to some haunted place, in which case all I have to do is leave.

All ghosts can change their appearance depending on their moods. That’s why the scariest ones are those who are angry. The ones that don’t know they’re dead are mostly just sad. The vengeful ones are terrifying for sure. I spoke to them at first, as a child, before I knew better, but I learned to keep quiet. It’s not like they make that much sense most of the time anyway.

So I lived my days of youth walking past these dark, mournful figures, trying not to meet their hollow gazes. Most of them stop and watch me, all eyes trained on me. It's unnerving, but you learn to steel yourself to it. I thought that the angry spirits were the worst of it all. I was terribly wrong.

Because even if I grew used to them, there was one thing I never anticipated having to face.

Demons.

That’s what I think they are, anyway. I can’t be sure. Maybe they’re angry spirits that have stubbornly persisted so long in between life and afterlife that they really did twist into something inhuman. Maybe they’ve been there all along, since before the time of man, from some ancient religion. Cursed and unholy. I just can’t be sure. One thing is for sure: they’re absolutely fucking terrifying.

Their limbs are too long. Their fingers are hooked. Their mouths are impossibly wide. Their eyes pierce into my very soul. You should never, EVER meet their gaze.

When they notice that I can see them, well...

There's a reason that I duck my head down, pretending they’re not there when I happen to notice one. Sometimes, if I pretend I can’t see them, if I avoid staring, they ignore me. They’re different from ghosts - they can see humans at all times. Being able to see me has no significance for them. It’s when they notice that I can see them that things can get really fucked.

I was about nine years old when I saw one for the first time. I was never the same again.

I was passing an apartment on the train. I gazed out the window absent-mindedly, trying to ignore the man in the pinstripe suit holding his head in his lap who was staring at me in the seat next to ours. We passed an apartment complex and slowed as the train shifted tracks. I saw it through the window of the fifth floor, clinging to the ceiling. It felt like time slowed. It had too many limbs...too many fingers. Even though time felt slow, it snapped its head up with impossible speed as soon as my eyes rested on it. We locked eyes. It had terrifying glowing orbs. As I stared at it, it grinned a terribly wide smile.

It sent a shock through my little frame, and I squeezed my mother’s hand tightly, squeezing my eyes shut. My heart was leaping out of my chest as I started wheezing, sweat rolling down my temple. My mother picked me up and placed me in her lap, gently comforting me and asking me what was wrong, but I said nothing, petrified. I did feel a little relieved because I thought it was over. I was horribly wrong.

I didn’t know that it started to follow me. Whatever it was doing in that apartment, it was far more interested in my ability to see it than anything it was hunting.

The ghosts sitting on the train were complacent for most of the ride as they usually were, sometimes staring at me, sometimes staring off into some far, distant place. Then, in unison, they snapped their heads towards the back of the train. I froze, my eyes darting around. A strange chill settled even over the undead. Suddenly, like a flood, they all stood and fled the train, leaping into the rushing scenery beyond the train doors. They vanished like clouds of smoke, effortlessly, wordlessly.

As I felt my heart fill with dread, I slowly turned my head towards the back of the train car.

It was sitting in the back corner, its head tilted at an impossible angle, grinning at me with teeth sharper than daggers. Too many teeth. Too many limbs. Too many fingers.

I started crying.

It didn’t approach at first.

My mother was baffled, trying to comfort me, but I was inconsolable. I heard it clicking its claws and speaking in a guttural language behind us.

We exited the train. It followed, slipping between the crowds of people, hunched over with glittering eyes.

I practically flew up my apartment steps, my mother shouting after me. I panted by the door, gripping her dress as she unlocked it. I didn’t leave her side, my eyes wild with fear. She was concerned for me, but there was nothing she could do. I glanced out of the hallway window and saw it crawling across the street towards the apartment.

I begged her to stay with me that night with all of my might, but she insisted that I had to grow out of these childish fears. I think she was just fed up with it all. I don’t want to blame her, but that night, above all, I needed her company.

She wouldn’t have it. She left me alone, closing my door softly. I heard a click as she locked it, already anticipating that I would try to run into her room. Perhaps, to her, this was a good way to get me to face my fears, but she couldn’t have picked worse timing.

I clung to my covers, breathing heavily. My eyes darted around the room.

All was quiet at first. My exhaustion got the better of me.

As I started slipping into a disturbed sleep, I heard my closet creak open. My eyes rolled as I tried to fight unconsciousness, but it was to no avail. I must’ve lost the battle because I started having the worst nightmare of my life. Horrifyingly grotesque creatures tugged at my limbs with their maws, sinking their teeth into my flesh. They ate me alive, screaming, over and over and over again, ripping and tearing at my flesh, gobbling my intestines. It was excruciating and terrifying. They said horrible things as their tongues licked the flesh clean from my bones. Finally, I broke through the dream, drenched in sweat, my eyes flashing open.

What met me was far more terrifying than the nightmare.

The demon sat on my chest, its large frame suffocating me as it weighed down. I wanted to scream, to struggle, but I was completely frozen. Its long claws dug into my skin, pinning me down, drawing blood from my soft skin.

It was hard to see it in the dark of my room. It was a silhouette, tall and hunched over. The demon itself was impossibly dark, emanating shadows like a reverse sun. Its red eyes glowed in the darkness, filled with hatred and an unholy glee. Its touch burned my skin like a hot brand as it leered at me.

Slowly, it started leaning down and unhinging its jaw. Hot drool dripped from its jowls. My heart sunk in my chest as an icy chill came over me.

It had rows of sharp teeth unfolding out of its mouth like a flower. Its hot, disgusting breath wafted over me, choking me even more. Tears flowed town my cheeks as my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. I gritted and grinded my teeth, groaning, struggling against my inexplicable paralysis. My heartbeat drummed in my ears like a war cry, adrenaline shooting through my veins.

A thought flashed into my mind.

Is this really how I am going to end?

After a lifetime of struggling with my strange ability, misery and fear parading in my heart as I stumbled with confusion throughout life, I was going to die at the hands of a demon? How was that fair? I never had any explanation for what I saw, no way to fight back against this dark force. Was I just a victim of circumstance, given a power I couldn’t understand with no way to defend myself?

I felt rage building in my chest. An impossible defiance exploded out of me. I don’t want to die! I will not die! I REFUSE TO DIE HERE!

The demon flinched as if it heard my thoughts. I gurgled at first, but gathered my strength and cried out with all my might. It narrowed its eyes and shrieked back at me, its voice piercing my ears and digging into my very soul. It lunged as if to rip my throat out, but I did not submit. I yelled back with equal force, unrelenting, my voice rising above its voice. It flinched again, slowly slinking back, retreating into a corner of my room. I sat up, shouting louder. It was a furious, primal, guttural yell, my eyes bugging out of my head as saliva flew from my lips. Desperation flowed through my blood. I bared my teeth, standing on my bed, and screamed at it with balled fists. “I WILL NOT SUCCUMB TO YOU! I REFUSE! I REFUSE!! GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

I shouted, raved, and cursed at it as it shrank, melting into the shadows until only the glaring red orbs pierced through the darkness. Its hatred hit me like a wave, but I did not falter, jumping down from the bed and screaming at it, my small frame trembling with purpose. I slowly approached the corner it was sinking into until those hateful eyes were almost gone.

Before it vanished, it hissed, “This is only the beginning. You will be cursed your whole life with this dark vision, tormented until death. There is no escape for you. Fear, and suffer, you wretched little bitch.”

It cackled as its eyes blinked away into nothingness. I panted heavily, descending into sobs. I fell to my knees, clutching myself. My mother burst into my room, shouting at me in confusion and annoyance. I looked up at her with eyes far too burdened for a child. She stopped, staring, unsure of herself. My fingernails dug into my arm as I gritted my teeth.

There were handprints burned into my wrists and ankles, claw marks ripped into my skin. I think perhaps that was enough to spook even my mother, stubborn skeptic though she was. She purchased crosses and holy water, littering my room with them. I don’t think she fully committed to it, but for my sake, she started taking us to church.

I doubt it mattered.

I learned that day that these demons feed on our vulnerability. Our will is stronger than we think, however. It is perhaps a demon’s greatest enemy, for once we believe we can defeat it, we truly can. At least, in my experience.

This should have given me confidence, bolstered me in a just cause to fight them. Instead, I turned into myself, cowardice prevailing. I did not want to be cursed all my life, as the demon had claimed I would be.

That night scarred me beyond reason. How could any nine-year-old really fully accept it? Maybe it was childish of me, but I wished desperately that I couldn’t see them, these ghosts and specters that haunted my waking moments. It was unspoken, but I understood that I was sensitive to them, more capable of interacting with them, more susceptible to the darker forces. That must be what the demon meant. Denial was my only comfort, for the fear was too great. I stopped mentioning them to my family, I pretended they weren’t there, and I averted my gaze on those rare moments when I saw another tall, dark, impossibly evil creature.

And, for the most part, I was undisturbed.

My mother rejoiced. The hardest days seemed over.

They were just echoes of lives long gone. Their fingers brushed my skin, but they could not force me to do anything. They were inconsequential and irrelevant to my day to day life. It became easier to ignore them with time. I gained friends and began enjoying life for what I could make of it. I refused any responsibility for them. I was just a victim of circumstance. I could not help them, and I could not stop them. They just simply were.

They even faded a little as I continued to refuse to see them. I was convinced that if I kept up denying, one day I might be rid of them completely. I was diligent in my cause. I never wanted to see another ghost or demon ever again. I did not want that demonic prophecy of a life full of torment to be my reality. I believed that if I willed it away, it could not come to be. For a while, that was enough.

I retreated into novels, using imagination and a world without ghosts to soothe my own fears. I became interested in writing, and I had a natural proclivity for creativity. It was easy to get lost in. To forget. I clung to it like a lifeline. The days gradually blurred, the past becoming a distant nightmare. I was content, so secure in the lie I told myself.

I think I could’ve lived most of my life like in denial if that day hadn't come.

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[kane-and-griffin]

dear kabby mom, how do I make my broken heart stop hurting? I fell in love with a girl who I thought was falling back for me too....but now I don't think so anymore. this sucks.

Oh, my sweetsad baby.  

It does suck. 

It absolutely sucks. 

There is nothing I can say that will makethat not true.  There is nothing anyonecan say or do that will make it suck any less except time.

 And I know that’s not the answer you want tohear, that’s not the answer anyone wants to hear, because it doesn’t fixanything right now.  It doesn’t save youfrom having to go through the thing you have to go through right now.  It doesn’t make any of the things that hurtright now any less painful to know that in ten years (or five years) (or sixmonths) this will all feel different. It’s the truest thing that I have to tell you, but I also know thatit is in some degree useless to you right now.

You say thatyou think she doesn’t have feelings for you. Have you talked to her?  Have youdone the excruciating and mortifying and emotionally naked thingwhere you open up your heart to someone without any idea what will happennext?  Maybe you don’t need to ask; maybeyou know already.  Maybe she likessomeone else.  Maybe her feelings aboutyou are platonic and she’s made that clear. But if there’s gray area – if there’s a piece of your heart or mind that’sstill whispering, “But maybe, but maybe …” – maybe with a little time,maybe she’ll change her mind, maybe she’ll see you differently in a year, maybeit won’t work out with the girl she’s dating now – then it might be helpful tosay it out loud, to stop the “But Maybe” train in its tracks before it derails you.  Sometimes you can’t let go andput it behind you until you’ve heard the real “No.”  Until the bubble has been burst.  I don’t know your situation, but I know morethan once in my life that’s been true for me. I knew I’d hold onto unreasonably stubborn optimism, willfullymisinterpreting whatever they said as a “sign,” until I finally got up thecourage to just say it out loud, get my heart smashed into a hundred tiny pieces, pick them up, and keep walking.  It was miserable but it was also the only way forward. 

And you, baby, need to figure out what youneed to move forward.

You’re feeling big things right now, and you need to use whateverhealthy outlets are available to you to start processing them.  Cry to your friends.  Write, draw, sing.  Make sad playlists, watch sad movies.  Swap stories with the peoplein your life about their heartbreaks, to remind yourself that you’re notexperiencing this alone.  Eat goodchocolate.  Go for walks.  Breathe fresh air.  Stay busy. Spend time with as many good dogs and adorable non-annoying children asyou can find.  Dogs and children do notlet you get away with wallowing.  They will absolutely force you to remember that you are alive.

What youabsolutely must under no circumstances do is let heartbreak feed intoobsession.  Don’t check her social mediaa hundred times a day to think about all the other people she might choose whenshe didn’t choose you, or how much fun she’s having doing things you wish shewas doing with you instead, but isn’t.  Don’t useher to process the emotions you need to process, even if she’s yourfriend.  Do not make her responsible foryour broken heart.  Do not punish her, orany future person she dates, for the fact that she didn’t choose you.  If you need to vent these feelings do them quietlyand privately with your closest most trustworthy friends.  Never publicly, and never to her.  Do not vagueblog or subtweet in a forum whereshe might see it, and know, and feel terrible. You have every right to process every inch of the feelings that you’refeeling but you owe it to her to make sure you do it in a respectful way. 

She has not done anything wrong. 

No one here has done anything wrong.  

The first timeI realized I had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back I wastwelve.  The first time I told someone Ihad feelings for them and they didn’t say it back to me, I was twenty.  The most recent time was just last year.  

Once I showedup at a girl’s house for a brunch date and her drunken hookup from the night before answered the door, but I was too polite to bolt so we just satthere eating our eggs and pretending it wasn’t awkward and I was just there because the girl and I were just friends.

Once in highschool I told the tall beautiful blonde star of the basketball team who satnext to me in algebra and with whom I had been silently smitten all year thatshe had beautiful eyes, and when she gave me a weird look I got up and ran outof the room and pretended like I just needed to get something from mylocker.  

Once I didn’trealize that the date I was on wasn’t a date and that the girl was straightuntil I tried to kiss her, at which point she backed away in horror and neithershe nor her friends ever spoke to me again. She lives in my city now and once six years ago we were at a partytogether and even though at that point it had been close to a decade since theincident, she still never came anywhere near me.

I’ve hadfriendships end over this.  I’ve hadfriendships grow ten times as strong over this. I’m thirty-five and I’ve been in the place you’re currently in moretimes than I can count, and the only thing I can tell you from where I’msitting right now which might be in any way helpful is that the thing you areexperiencing is universal. 

Everyone thatyou know has been through this at least once. Some people have been on both sides of it.  All of us have been there.  All of us have been there.  Everyone you love and admire, everyone youthink is tough and strong, everyone you think never lets their feelings get tothem or who you’ve never seen cry, everyone who’s in a relationship of whichyou’re secretly envious because you assume the fact that they’re happy nowmeans they’ve never known what it’s like to be unhappy.  All of us. All of us.  We’re all right herewith you.  And what that means is that weall survived it. 

And you will too.  I promise, baby.  You will too. You’re experiencing one of those things that poets write about.  You’ll listen to melancholy love songs andwatch sad movies differently from now on. You know a thing now about your heart that you didn’t know before, andit’s beautiful and terrible and there will be times that you will probably wishfor it to disappear.

But please don’t.  

Let me tellyou why.

When I was akid, I was quiet and awkward and introverted and shy, and kept everythinginside.  I began to come out of my shella little bit in high school, but I didn’t really blossom until college, when Ifinally found my people, and suddenly it was like I was Dorothy moving from ablack-and-white world to a Technicolor one. I was in love with everything and everyone.  I was in love with the pretentious gayphilosophy major who lived downstairs and I was in love with the blondesorority girl down the hall who is now a major writer for Buzzfeed and I was inlove with anyone who would stay up with me until the sun rose, sitting in thedorm lounge and talking about books.  Ihad this big colorful soft squishy heart that I’d kept hidden my whole life and I justwanted to give it to someone, but every experience was new, so I gave it toeveryone, and because it was all new to me, I had no defense mechanisms to protect myself or avoid getting hurt.  I was forever falling forpeople who didn’t want me back and breaking my own heart and crying and feelingdevastated and writing terrible poetry and being afraid I’d never feel anythingever again.  But hearts are elastic, they bounce back when we let them, they’re made for love and if you just give them alittle time they’ll heal and move on to somebody else.

Then when Iwas twenty-four, my mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness, andI shut down.

The only way Icould cope with the panic and the grief was to force myself not to feelit.  I knew my mother was not fine, but Itold myself over and over that she would be. I knew that I was not fine, but I told myself over and over that Iwas.  Sometimes when I was alone at nightI would feel it, this huge dark cloud thing hovering over me, and I would feelmyself, very firmly, very carefully, shoving it back down into a box andlocking it up.  It was an almost physicalsensation.  I can remember it vividly.  It was spectacularly unhealthy, but it wasalso the only way I could survive. 

Shedied when I was twenty-seven, and my clearest memory of that day, and of theperiod immediately after, was that I felt nothing.  I cried when I got the phone call from mydad, because of the shock.  I didn’t cryagain – about her, or about anything – for years.  I went from being someone who would burst into tears at, like, a Verizon commercial about grandparents, to someone who didn’t cry at her own mother’s funeral.  Some switch had flipped inside me, and it waslike the part of me that could feel things was just gone.  I lost three grandparents in the years aftermy mom died, and I sang at all their funerals, and I felt nothing.  I knew that I loved them, and I knew that this thing that was happening was sad, but I felt it in this very muffled, dim, distant, far-off way where ifyou had asked me if I was okay I would have told you that I was fine and Iwould have believed that to be perfectly true.

It wasterrible.

Grief made mysister more emotional – she cried a lot, she was more demonstrative, she wantedto process her feelings out loud – but it shut me down completely.  And it took that big sparkly heart full oflove for everybody with it.  I tried,every once in awhile, half-heartedly, to go out on an internet date, but I feltnothing.  I didn’t know then what “demisexual”meant, and that I’m simply not wired to sit across the table in a bar from atotal stranger and feel the things you’re supposed to feel in that situation; Ineed that emotional connection before any of the other stuff happens.  But I wasn’t able to form that emotionalconnection.  From time to time I mightfeel a fleeting spark of a wistful crush on the cute divorced older lady poetin my writing group, or develop complicated feelings for one of the revolvingdoor of tortured, dramatic, toxic artistic men that seem to be foreverpopulating my life, but it wasn’t the same. I spent ten years convinced that I was broken; that my mom’s death meantthat the part of me that knew how to feel things was dead too.  I would, at that moment, have givenabsolutely anything to be that heartbroken twenty-year-old sobbing over beingrejected by a pretty straight girl, because at least that Claire could feelthings.

It took me ten years for the switch to flip back on, for me to catch feelings for someone and then get my heart broken again, not that long ago, and it was so disorienting to be feeling things again after all that time, but I was really grateful too.  Because it meant that I wasn’t dead inside.  I was a person who could feel things again.

I’m tellingyou all of this because right now you are heartbroken, and in the depths ofyour pain you feel like this is a terrible thing to be, and you want to make itstop.  And I am here to tell you, yourheart will heal, because that is what hearts do when we give them permission;but in the midst of your heartbreak, remember to be grateful for the capacityto be heartbroken.  For the fact that youhave a breakable heart.  For the factthat you are the kind of person who loves big, even when you aren’t sure theother person is going to love you back. That’s the best kind of person to be.

You’re goingto be okay, cupcake.  I promise.