#he used to only eat them off the ground/a surface

[pippindot]

He got treats and a heart shaped scrambled egg 💗

[tofixtheshadows]

I've been thinking a lot lately about how Kabru deprives himself.

Kabru as a character is intertwined with the idea that sometimes we have to sacrifice the needs of the few for the good of the many. He ultimately subverts this first by sabotaging the Canaries and then by letting Laios go, but in practice he's already been living a life of self-sacrifice.

Saving people, and learning the secrets of the dungeons to seal them, are what's important. Not his own comforts. Not his own desires. He forces them down until he doesn't know they're there, until one of them has to come spilling out during the confession in chapter 76.

Specifically, I think it's very significant, in a story about food and all that it entails, that Kabru is rarely shown eating. He's the deuteragonist of Dungeon Meshi, the cooking manga, but while meals are the anchoring points of Laios's journey, given loving focus, for Kabru, they're ... not.

I'm sure he eats during dungeon expeditions, in the routine way that adventurers must when they sit down to camp. But on the surface, you get the idea that Kabru spends most of his time doing his self-assigned dungeon-related tasks: meeting with people, studying them, putting together that evidence board, researching the dungeon, god knows what else. Feeding himself is secondary.

He's introduced during a meal, eating at a restaurant, just to set up the contrast between his party and Laios's. And it's the last normal meal we see him eating until the communal ending feast (if you consider Falin's dragon parts normal).

First, we get this:

Kabru's response here is such a non-answer, it strongly implies to me that he wasn't thinking about it until Rin brought it up. That he might not even be feeling the hunger signals that he logically knew he should.

They sit down to eat, but Kabru is never drawn reaching for food or eating it like the rest of his party. He only drinks.

It's possible this means nothing, that we can just assume he's putting food in his mouth off-panel, but again, this entire manga is about food. Cooking it, eating it, appreciating it, taking pleasure in it, grounding yourself in the necessary routine of it and affirming your right to live by consuming it. It's given such a huge focus.

We don't see him eat again until the harpy egg.

What a significant question for the protagonist to ask his foil in this story about eating! Aren't you hungry? Aren't you, Kabru?

He was revived only minutes ago after a violent encounter. And then he chokes down food that causes him further harm by triggering him, all because he's so determined to stay in Laios's good graces.

In his flashback, we see Milsiril trying to spoon-feed young Kabru cake that we know he doesn't like. He doesn't want to eat: he wants to be training.

Then with Mithrun, we see him eating the least-monstery monster food he can get his hands on, for the sake of survival- walking mushroom, barometz, an egg. The barometz is his first chance to make something like an a real meal, and he actually seems excited about it because he wants to replicate a lamb dish his mother used to make him!

...but he doesn't get to enjoy it like he wanted to.

Then, when all the Canaries are eating field rations ... Kabru still isn't shown eating. He's only shown giving food to Mithrun.

And of course the next time he eats is the bavarois, which for his sake is at least plant based ... but he still has to use a coping mechanism to get through it.

I don't think Kabru does this all on purpose. I think Kui does this all on purpose. Kabru's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder should be understood as informing his character just as much as Laios's autism informs his. It's another way that Kabru and Laios act as foils: where Laios takes pleasure in meals and approaches food with the excitement of discovery, Kabru's experiences with eating are tainted by his trauma. Laios indulges; Kabru denies himself. Laios is shown enjoying food, Kabru is shown struggling with it.

And I can very easily imagine a reason why Kabru might have a subconscious aversion towards eating.

Meals are the privilege of the living.

[nerdpoe]

Dani loves traveling, but she loves the sea the most.

It's just so wild, so untamable. She loves it!

In fact, when she takes a trip into the Zone, she seeks out Youngblood to reminisce about the sea. But Youngblood's never actually been to it.

He thinks it sounds super cool though!

In fact, his old ship, The Caleuche, still works beautifully as a Ghost Ship and a Proper Ship! Since it used to be his, he should be able to visit if she uses it! She just has to figure out how to get it out of the Zone.

So she tests a theory. Is The Caleuche ghost enough to get souped?

Yes. Yes it is.

She soups The Caleuche, leaves the Zone, and heads to the Pacific.

The Caleuche is great; she steers herself when it gets rough but follows orders, she can submerge but the interior is still dry and doesn't appear to run out of air, and whenever she surfaces she's so brightly lit and fun looking that recently deceased sailors like to come aboard and party before deciding to move onto the Ghost Zone through the natural portal in the Brig.

Dani thinks she may be making Youngblood's crew larger, but that's Danny's problem.

Not all ghosts go. Some stay on the ship. There's a doctor in a really old uniform, Mikhail, who can only speak Ghostspeak and Russian. There's a lady pirate, Jacquotte, who would rather spend her afterlife partying on the seas than going with the rest of the Ghosts to the Zone. There's a chef that wears some modern sort of chef uniform that only speaks Ghostspeak and Korean, Eun-Woo, who insists on making sure she eats a balanced diet. A big, growly sailor dressed like he's from the mob like in the movies, Frankie, but he just sits around and whittles wood or intimidates the meaner Ghosts into backing down so she doesn't have to fight.

They're her crew! Sure, it's way less than Youngbloods, but she likes it that way.

Sometimes she comes across humans doing stupid stuff, or getting in trouble, or even Atlanteans getting in trouble, and she saves them from their own mess.

One time she found a man with tattered green and black suit, with a very pretty ring, unconscious and floating on some weird metal wreckage.

So she hauled him aboard and let the doctor treat him, ordered The Caleuche to submerge, and dropped him off at a busy port.

What Dani doesn't realize is that she's getting Deified by sailors across the world.

A laughing child that saves those who can be saved, and reaps the ones who can't. A benevolent Goddess of the Sea.

That when she dropped off that Green Lantern at The Metropolis Harbor, videos caught a brightly lit, vaguely see through ghost ship rise from the waters. Recordings of laughter and music aboard, with the people on it very clearly dead and wearing uniforms from all walks of life would make the rounds.

That she herself, decked out in her new pirate gear, flickered into existence from nothing and gently laid the Green Lantern on the ground before disappearing.

Then the ship went back underwater.

[darlingdekarios]

hide and seek.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,555 content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader, reader is referred to as a codename "Freya" and related nickname from Ghost, smut [fingering - receiving, unprotected p in v, mentions of stomach bulge, creampie, oral - receiving], kink(s) [size, outdoors, slight degradation, praise, squirting, cum eating], not beta/proof read deal w/ it

during a training exercise, the lines between hunter and hunted become blurred, and the feelings that have been buried inside claw their way to the surface.

"You can't hide forever, Freya."

Eight hours and fourteen minutes into a training exercise with Taskforce 101, and the two men who remained were starting to question if the words rumbling through their ear piece were correct. Dropped in the mountains within a ten mile radius of one another, it was a game of hide and seek … each of you taking on both roles simultaneously as you tried to remain hidden while taking out your opponents.

It was an honor system - survival of the fittest. Price, of course, at a camp at the base of the mountain, sending a team out to retrieve those who were picked off. Now it had dwindled - only the three of you remained, and the comms channels had been particularly quiet as time ticked by, each of you convinced you'd prove yourself top of the food chain eventually.

But Ghost's voice had interrupted the quiet, your focus broken for a moment as you halted all of your movements, waiting for the forest to respond to his voice. When nothing close to you alerted you dropped your own voice lower to quip back at his taunting, adjusting your position where you currently crouched.

"Just have to outlive you, LT."

"And Gaz. Don't forget about Gaz."

A smile spread across your lips, backpack sliding off your shoulders and to the ground quietly in an effort to increase your movement radius. Your target was well within sight now, the figure hunched over a jet boil that was working to make him a hot meal without smoke.

"Oh, don't worry. I didn't forget about Gaz."

"Well, I'm still here, so you've still gotta worry about me finding you first," the named man finally responded, his voice echoed from the earpiece and from the figure in front of you, carried between the trees as he gave no effort to hide himself, thinking he was without company.

You were moving forward now, using trunks and bushes for cover, stalking toward prey that remained blissfully unaware that its downfall was close enough to see puffs of cold breath from them.

"Not for long."

From there, it was silence from you, any further conversation a threat to giving away your location the closer you drew to him. You could hear the uptick of worry in his voice immediately when he responded, his focus on dinner shattered as he stood again. There was no possibility of him fleeing now, not with hot equipment to turn off and put away. Instead, he'd have to wait for the inevitable.

"What's that mean?" he questioned, head searching around his perimeter desperately in hope to find you before you could reach him. When his question went unanswered the frustration in his voice increased, a subtle shake indicating he was aware of his mistakes. This game was over for him … now he only needed to wait. "Hey, what's that mean?"

"That doesn't sound good, Gaz."

You were trying to ignore the tone Ghost used now as he spoke … the subtle amusement lingering under his tone only spurring you along more. It was over for Gaz before he had a real chance to react.

"Freya, what does that … FUCK!"

His shout was muffled into your hand as you slid up behind him and covered his mouth, a victorious smirk covering your face. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket you activated a GPS tracker to signify his pickup location, moving around him to look him face-to-face. He gave you a nod of respect before you hurried back to the trees, replacing your equipment and setting off on your next target.

"That's Gaz out," Price's voice was smooth in the comms, ready to set the match into its final round. "Ghost, Freya, you're all that's left. Try not to play with your food too much."

"Hmm."

You wondered if Ghost had an advantage position now, if he was looking to the trees for evidence of Gaz's retrieval, perhaps hopeful for a tip toward your location. You were eager to ensure he'd receive none.

"No promises."

"Once the sun goes over the mountains, you're alone for the night. No comms. It becomes true survival. Understood?"

"Copy," the two of you spoke in unison and Price dropped out again, returning the two of you to your isolated setting. As you hiked forward you found an eagerness filling your stomach … butterflies fluttering around as the prospect of facing Simon in this setting as the victor for this game set in on you. He could hear the smile you wore on your face as you all but purred into the comms.

"See you soon, Ghost."

The confidence in your voice sent a shiver down his spine - something he found becoming a common occurrence whenever you were around. From behind his mask his lips curved into an amused smile, though his tone indicated no such thing when he spoke.

"We'll see about that."

"It'll get cold soon, Frey. Once the sun drops over those mountains …"

It had been just under two more hours since you'd taken Gaz out, and things had mostly been silent. Neither of you wanted to outright give away your locations by something as easily avoidable as not remaining silent, so for the most part you had, only responding to Price quickly when he provided time updates.

"If you're worried about a little cold you could always forfeit, Ghost."

The laugh that rumbled in him came through even lower through a microphone like the one you wore now, and while the sound still set all of your nerves ablaze, you wished you could hear it in person. It was a ridiculous offer - Simon Riley had never forfeited in his life and he wouldn't start now, even if it meant sleeping beneath a layer of snow tonight. It was something about him that pulled you in like a magnet, his proven results time and time again securing your unspoken feelings for him.

Feelings you now couldn't afford to focus on with bragging rights of this size at stake. You were well aware of the possibility that Ghost had an eye on you through a scope - he could already be tracking your every move. You were certain that, knowing him, he would be close - he wouldn't allow his last remaining enemy to stray too far.

You still hoped to use that to your advantage, opting to ignore the cockiness in his words.

"Not a chance."

It was only an hour later that the sun was no longer offering any amount of warmth, the last of its gold and orange hues diluted by the beginnings of the night sky.

"Price did say if we're out past sundown we're out for the night."

"You sound scared, Frey. Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark?"

"Not a chance."

Really, you weren't…not now, anyway with every inch of your body burning with the desire to win. You echoed his earlier words to initiate a playful banter the two of you ever really enjoyed alone, inviting him in to another game with the reminder that now, only the two of you remained on the line. Thankfully he took the bait, catching on quickly to what you silently offered.

"You should be…never know what's lurking about…hiding behind a tree, in the shadows."

To his own internal pleasure, the quiet laugh that he allowed to rumble through his chest was joined with your own, the soft sound sending a rush of warmth through his body. Though he'd never admitted aloud - maybe not even fully to himself mentally, in truth - he craved moments like this with you, where your laugh and your casual tone fell easily on his ears like the chirp of birds in the morning.

Instead, he enjoyed his time with you selfishly, the need he felt within him to enjoy more of you buried inside where it would never see the light.

"Could say the same to you, big guy. What's lurking in the shadows around you?"

There was something in your voice that made the hair on his neck stand, something to the tone that piqued his interest further. You were almost purring - he was starting to wonder if Price's request not to play with food was directed entirely at you now. As he focused on your tone, on his surroundings, on taking in the trees around him and desperately trying to ignore the new tightness in his pants, your eyes were on the finish line.

You had slipped free of your boots and socks again, suffering through the cold ground in an effort to quiet yourself further as you stalked your way to him slowly under the cover of darkness. When you could begin to make out details - the pockets on his jacket and pants, the glimmer of zippers as they caught the remaining light, every curve his silhouette offered…you stilled, enjoying the moment.

His breath was visible - heavier than usual. You couldn't help the rush of pride that filled you at even the slightest hint that you had his nerves alight. How many people could say that about Simon Riley? It was a feeling so fulfilling you were almost tempted to bask in it longer, to savor every microsecond it lasted.

But the promise of his reaction was far too enticing to stay hidden for too long, a fact you succumbed to as you silently took more steps toward him.

"Hey, Simon?"

"Hmm?"

"Boo."

Fortunately the ground was soft enough to aid in the jump you sprung into to wrap your legs around his waist from behind, your arms wrapping around his neck and giving the slightest squeeze to accentuate your point. He'd lost.

"Fuck."

"Concede."

When the order was not immediately fulfilled you squeezed ever so slightly harder, only enough to drive it home. This was a fair win. One you'd earned.

But he wasn't hesitating to find a way out…he'd taken an intentional moment to allow you time to bask in your glory - at least, that was better than admitting he just wanted to feel you closer for a moment longer…for as many moments as you'd allow. Regardless of his own wants and completely focused on what would make you happy (though he could already feel it radiating from you), he forced himself to not, a deep breath filling his lungs as you released him.

When you climbed down and he turned to face you, the grin that had spread across your face fell open. In preparation for the dark Simon had already removed his glasses, leaving his sparkling eyes bare for you to see, more of his face exposed now in his balaclava than you'd ever been treated to before.

(Though it was hardly enough. Your curiosity about what would greet you beneath the black fabric grew by the day…by the second now as you made eye contact like you'd never been able to before.)

In the depths of his eyes your own pride was matched, telling you enough about his thoughts on your win that the words could truly go unspoken. He studied you carefully, enjoying the curve to your lips as a coy smirk and how somehow still, despite the pride, a neediness flooded behind it all, something as primal and feral as the forest's inhabitants.

"How long have you been on me?"

"Right after I picked up Gaz, he was trailing you from the southeast."

The mask's fabric shifted confirming the light smile that played on his lips, his eyes burning into yours now. As intense as his gaze was (it always was, why should now be any exception?) you were lost it in, searching for a hint of what he was thinking…what he was feeling. He was an expert at this - at hiding, at interrogating, he could easily pick you apart and have the answers he wanted flowing from you with only a little more effort.

With you, however, it required no intimidation to coax what he wanted from you.

"You could've caught up before sundown, then," it was a simple statement, his eyes not leaving yours as he took a knee on his sleeping pack before you, digging in his bag for a small towel and a fresh pair of socks. He motioned for you to take a seat on the rock he'd set up camp next to, nodding in appreciation when you adhered. "Your pace is faster than that."

You hadn't known him very long - you weren't even technically part of the task force as it stood. It has been almost a year, however…nearly twelve months of knowing the man who now knelt before you, carefully wiping mud from your feet and handling you like you would shatter if he wasn't softer than a hummingbird's feather. You didn't know what to expect of physical contact from him…but this degree of gentleness was certainly not it until this moment.

You thanked him for his delicacy by ensuring your eyes never left his face, eager to meet his gaze again whenever his found you again.

"Could've, yeah," you confirmed when he started to slip the warm socks onto your feet, his attention now nearly fully returned to maintaining eye contact with you. You were aware that with each passing moment your heart was beating faster…even more aware that you couldn't stop it even if you tried. "You could've tried to track me."

"Could've done."

"Why didn't you?"

He was still on his knees in front of you - in fact, there was no sign he intended to move now.

"Wanted to see how long it took you to find me. Wanted to see how you'd approach."

You'd never heard his voice like this - so quiet it offered no disruption to the peaceful mountains around you. Not quiet like he normally was to avoid an enemy, quiet to pinpoint that the words were only for you. As if you needed another reason to be attracted to him - as if the very definition of perfection could get any better.

"Did you find my methods satisfactory?"

The longer his eyes burned into yours the easier it was to ignore the dropping temperatures in the air around you.

"I did."

His praise - even just that was enough to be considered such - struck you to your core. You found yourself speechless, your face burning. Unaware for a moment as one of his hands rested against your knee, uncaring that you probably looked foolish as all you could do now was stare. He was willing to hold your gaze for as long as you offered it - a dangerous fact.

"If you're trying to prove yourself to Price, you don't need t' put yourself at more a risk of injury to do it. Proper footwear is important."

"I'm not proving myself to Price. I'm proving myself to you."

He'd been choosing to ignore the signs from you - opting for the safety of denying what was transpiring between the two of you now for the security it provided. It seemed those days were gone - even the air around you seemed to be pushing the two of you together.

Still, this was a territory he'd convinced himself was forbidden, and in his internal fight as to how to move forward it allowed you a moment of doubt. It was you who spoke again before he got the chance, eager to explain your actions further.

Not that you owed it or he expected it…you needed it now to fill the silence.

"I wanted to hear it from you…that I bested you," he could hear the doubt blossoming on the back of your words - it wasn't like you to share like this, it was much safer to keep things to yourself. But if you did that forever, he would as well…and the reality was, you were more willing to break the unspoken rule with yourself before he was. "I wanted to hear the pride in your voice. To see it in your eyes."

His eyes found yours again as he reached a hand toward your face, hesitating for a moment just centimeters away to give you the chance to slap his hand away, waiting for any action from you that confirmed the doubts ever-present in the back of his mind. Instead, ever so subtly your head leaned closer to his hand, inviting the distance to be closed.

All the signs were there, and now he just had to read them.

He grasped your chin between his fingers and held you gently as he drew closer to you, his free hand reaching up to push the bottom half of his mask up. His lips were more inviting than any you'd seen before - it was a cruelty that he covered them, a gift at the same time to your focus.

(For the record - you'd gladly sacrifice your focus if it meant watching his tongue run across his bottom lip. A momentary lapse of your attention was well worth witnessing the way he invited you in now.)

"Who knew you could be so needy?" he questioned, his tongue swiping across his lips again, finger tapping your chin playfully. That alone sent you clenching around nothing - just that taunting question was enough to fully spiral you into desire. "Why don't you tell me why you kept us out here after dark first?"

Your face was burning - every inch of you was burning. Simon was an intelligent man - your plan to string the game along longer hardly a secret now. It was your turn to concede - he'd found you out. Somehow, you couldn't even begin to remotely care.

"For this. This moment alone."

He had come so close now that the distance between your lips could hardly be considered decent. With the smallest movement either of you could have closed it - a kiss both of you had long awaited in silence a promise now.

"Are you hoping for a reward?"

Your mouth had never been this dry and you could only nod, savoring the way his free hand now ran up your side, urging you forward slightly. He began to lean closer, slower than you'd ever seen him move before, to demonstrate where he intended to go, hoping you would follow his lead - hoping you could be the one to initiate what was to come.

"Use your words."

"Yes."

Like a flock of birds startled by a sound too loud cracking in the night like thunder you came crashing together like lightning, his lips finding yours like they'd already done so a thousand times before now. With his strength he had you on your feet and against a tree in the time it took for a gasp to fall from your mouth. He paused, dark gaze softening briefly as he waited for you to give any sort of show that you wanted him to stop. When you didn't, his lips finally claimed yours as your hands pulled him in firmer by grasping his collar.

It was heated - both of you had waited for this moment while simultaneously avoiding it since you'd met, but now that it was here it demanded everything from you - the kiss itself was all-consuming. As your lips and tongues danced together both of you allowed your hands to explore under shirts as best you could. His hands engulfed you - any part of you he grabbed was with as much as he could possibly get his hands on, noticeably holding himself back from grasping tighter in an effort to spare you from bruises.

Until your nails ran down his abs hard enough to leave red trails in their place and he took the unsaid words as further permission, his finger tips digger into your hips harder as he leaned more of his weight against you, truly pinning you to the tree. He gave you a moment to breathe - your vision blurred as you blinked up at him, eager to see the swirls of color in his eyes this close but still hopelessly wanton for his mouth on you some more.

A light smirk played on his lips at your expression - pupils and eyes wide and your already swollen lips remained parted, desperate and shallow breaths falling from your lips. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to your jaw, dragging them back until he reached your ear with a gentle nip at the lobe.

"'s this what you wanted, dove?"

You could hear the desire fueling his words and could only whimper and nod in response as his lips connected to your neck, one of his hands releasing its hold on your hip to unhook the button of your pants. His lips reached lower, beneath where a collar would normally sit on you to suck a spot that raised goosebumps all across your skin as your zipper was undone. You realized you'd yet to give him the verbal response he probably required and it came from your chest as a broken moan as his hand slipped into your pants, pushing your underwear to the side.

"Y-yes, sir."

It was his turn to groan now, his fingers spreading your folds to spread the slick that had already started to leak from you. He bit into the spot he'd been paying attention to, uncaring if it left a mark for others to see in more casual settings, savoring the gasp and moan that fell from your lips and the way your hands desperately clawed at his sides to hold you to earth as your hips bucked forward, his fingers teasing your entrance as they did.

"Fuckin' soaked already, eh, love?" his taunt was directly below your ear followed by a loving swipe of his tongue, uncaring of the sweat that had gathered on your skin throughout the day and cherishing everything you had to offer. His fingers traced your hole slowly, teasing you with the slightest entrance several times before he continued. "I've barely touched you, y'filthy girl…"

You could once again only whimper as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with a quiet 'tsktsktsk' sounding against his teeth, his muttered words of praise and degradation muddled by your hazy mind as he stretched you open. He was well attuned to what your body responded to, pumping the thick digits into your tight sex with the perfect speed, rubbing against the most sensitive and velvet part of your walls perfectly each time to pull more moans from you.

His lips found yours again when he was satisfied you'd finally caught your breath enough to meet you in another bruising kiss, his hand that wasn't focused on fucking your cunt reaching to work his own pants partially down his thighs, freeing his throbbing cock with a grunt. You could tell by the speed to which his fingers entering you picked up and the rough grasp on one of your hands that he needed you just as desperately, guiding your hand to his cock and groaning again into your mouth as you wrapped your hand around his thick shaft, stroking his length tenderly.

As you continued to ensure your hand paid attention to every inch of him available he worked your pants down, making sure to quietly ask you if you were too cold in doing so and rewarding you with a gentler kiss and pressing closer to you when you shook your head. You could feel an orgasm building in you heavily and he picked up on the cues your body provided like it was something he'd been doing for a long time already, pumping his fingers faster as he continued to relentlessly kiss you.

"Go on, then," he coaxed against your lips, still not pulling away enough to give you a chance to suck in a full breath. You were dizzy, vision blurred already as every cell in your body focused on finding release. "Get nice and messy for me to fuck you."

It was that promise that sent you over the edge, the first wave of euphoria crashing over you and blinding your vision as you gushed around his fingers, the sloppy sounds of them entering your spasming repeatedly bringing a smile to his lips. He gave you the chance to breathe finally, releasing you from his kiss as his fingers abandoned your white hot core, hands grasping your hips to lift you upward. You realized your hand had fallen away from his cock as you'd worked through the initial hit of your orgasm and reached for it again, guiding it between the folds of your pussy and guiding it back and worth as he situated you between him and the tree, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were closer to his face now and could see the emotions in his eyes more - the hunger and need that filled him pouring from his expression and accentuated by a groan as your slick was spread over his cock. His words were barely more than a growl - the conflict deep behind each one only evident because you understood him. "Shouldn't…fuck you raw, dove. Such a bad fuckin' idea…"

You whined to communicate your dissatisfaction, already desperate to feel every inch of him buried in you and logic chased from your mind this soon after one orgasm had rushed through you. You reached between your bodies to rub your thumb over the pre-cum leaking from his swollen cock, grinding against him more. He was coated in your slick already - the fact he could slip into you with enough aid from just that unfocusing his mind.

"Need you, Simon…"

Of course it was his name on your lips that silenced his worries - that completely erased them. He adjusted quickly and with one swift movement his cock was stretching you, splitting you open on inch after inch as his lips found yours again. It was a fact that his length was too much for you to take in full, one you ignored happily and in a moderate state of drunken bliss until he'd bottomed out in you, tip pushing against your cervix. One of his hands remained attached to your hip and the other reached to press against your stomach and the bulge, adding to the pressure seated in your core so much you already started seeing stars again.

"Y'okay, princess?"

Any other time you'd have snipped at him not to call you that, but now as he muttered it in a slightly higher pitch, his whisper desperate and light against your lips you couldn't bring yourself to mind the name - with his cock buried in you you only nodded in response. His eyes met yours again before he leaned his forehead against yours, giving you a moment to focus on the feeling of his pulling his cock out from your velvet walls slowly.

He waited for a moment, teasing you with a delicate kiss to your bottom lip before he sheathed himself into you fully again with one swift thrust, hand pressing down against your stomach again. The sound of your pussy accepting him in with a squelch combined with the moan that ripped from your chest was pornographic and addicting, and he immediately entered a bruising pace to repeat it as much as he could - greedily working for another release from you.

You were thankful that his resolve had completed melted away as he got lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock on each entry, moans and grunts repeatedly falling from his lips as he fucked into you. While most of his hand stayed pressed against his own bulge inside you he reached his thumb down to your clit to rub the swollen nub, eagerly claiming your mouth again with his tongue when a moan erupted from it.

He continued his efforts relentlessly but gave you another break to breathe to lower his head to your neck again, kissing a trail down to your collarbone where he nibbled lightly, testing how the added stimulation would effect you. Despite the repeated moans and whimpers falling from your lips - it wasn't enough from him, the need to push you over the edge and prove to you the months of this building was worth it fueling his movements with primal need.

His hold on your hip became harder as his speed increased, thrusting into you desperately and rough. Distantly you could hear him praising you repeatedly as your walls began to squeeze his length tighter, mumbling quiet words of appreciation into your skin interchangeably between biting and licking and sucking. When your legs began to shake around him, he knew you were close and while he could've continued on just how he was he pressed for more, fucking into your harder with bruising thrusts into you.

(In the morning you'd remark that he could've taken it easier on you considering you had a hell of a hike back to camp and it would only be worse with a bruised cervix and hips. He'd only offer you a smirk as he remarked the pain would be good for you.

But he'd carry you for however long you asked him to if it was too much.)

"That's it, dove," he cooed, adjusting to look into your face again. "Want you to cum on my cock…want to see how messy we can make you, yeah?"

You nodded, vision blurred as you met his eyes again, eager to see the gaze of adoration he was now offering to you. His lips twisted into a smirk at the sight of your mouth hanging open, a bit of drool running down your chin - something you hadn't noticed and would've felt embarrassed over if he hadn't leaned forward and greedily swiped at it with his tongue, kissing you deeply again.

It was then that a second orgasm was pulled from you - but between the stimulation of the head of his cock rubbing against the perfect spot inside you, his thumb circling your clit, and his lips kissing you as though it was life sustaining this time your release squirted from you, your release coating his cock, waist, and thighs. A low groan rumbled in his chest and his speed picked up again, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him and milking his own release from him.

He opened his mouth to try to warn you it was coming - a lost cause when you abandoned his kiss to attach your lips to his neck and jaw, lightly nipping and licking at several sensitive spots that were typically covered to the world. He grasped your hip tighter and stilled his movements otherwise as he filled you with his release, his hot seed creating such a large load that it was already leaking from you around him.

You continued to kiss on his jaw as you both came down again, Simon waiting until he was certain you wouldn't fall before he removed his length from you, gently lowering you back to the ground. His eyes remained transfixed on your combined releases leaking down your thighs for a moment, conflicting emotions once again flooding his expression as he gazed at you. Just as you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay he dropped to his knees, using one hand pressed against your stomach to pin you to the tree again as the other lifted one of your legs over his shoulder.

He leaned forward to lick each of your thighs clean - you wished he'd removed his mask briefly so you could tangle your fingers in his hair, the thought was abandoned when he leaned forward fully to connect his flattened tongue to your folds, licking a slow stripe through them gently. You gasped and grasped at what you could, landing on holding the hand over your stomach and the back of his head, anchoring him to you.

He was happy to accept the way you pulled his head forward, burying it into your cunt more until his nose was pressed to your clit. His tongue found your hole and fucked into it, greedily slurping in as much of your releases as he could. It was entirely too much the way he swirled his tongue and sucked against you hungrily, but you still couldn't silence the loud cry of disappointment when his mouth abandoned you only to stand and kiss you again, silencing your whine with his tongue sharing what he hadn't swallowed for himself already.

When he released you again he leaned his forehead against yours, a lazy smirk spread across his lips that matched the smug energy radiating from him. With a shaking voice you quipped at him, unashamed of what he'd reduced you to and completely pleased with how your plan had come to fruition.

"Price told us not to play with our food."

The way his laugh huffed from him in his breathless state was intoxicating, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip briefly catching your gaze and transfixing you again.

"What Price doesn't know won't hurt him.

masterlist. call of duty masterlist.

[ilys00ga]

life after his enlistment.

pairing: yoongi x reader

synopsis: how life/the relationship was like after he enlisted.

genre: fluff, established relationship, yoongi enlisted, they are trying their best, idk if I should call it angst or hurt/comfort, but there's some kind of ✨️melancholy✨️ in this (predictable much), I effing miss him sm more now :(.

warnings: t.w: if u are just like me, prepare to be missing yoongi sickeningly after this. gosh, it feels like a hole in a chest rn. idk what to do w myself. oh btw some ideas mentioned here are purely my own opinions, so it doesn't have to be "facts" or "all true." if u have different opinions or if u disagree with any it u can reach out to me about them, I would like that, but that's that, enjoy!!!!!!!!!

A/N: this was a request made by @kimvante2013 I hope it meets ur expectations! this was so fun to write, I liked this a lot. feel free to send more reqs or anything u want :)

PS. English is not my first language, so you know the drill.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

the problem wasn't that you couldn't see him, no.

since his duty was different from that of an ordinary individual, you both were able to spend the nights in each other's arms.

when he comes back home after duty, sometimes he's met with an empty house where he'd wash up and start preparing something for you to enjoy munching on once you get back home at a later hour of the day. other times, he comes to a busy, warm house. you blasting your favorite drama on the TV while doing the laundry in the middle of the living room, or just chilling and waiting to welcome him with mellow hugs and kisses.

and when he's on duty, he can't always contact you, but he whispered kisses laced with promises into your lips before leaving on his first day, and he would never dare to break them. not that he wants to anyway.

sometimes you'd wake up to post-it notes sticked on random surfaces and items around the house, or good morning messages of love and kisses. sometimes he calls during lunch breaks to check up on you, reminding you to drink water and eat well because that's yoongi's most precious habit of showing that he always just cares.

"don't forget to layer your outfit today, I just saw that it's gonna be awfully cold."

"did you like the bouquet I sent? want more? cook me ___ tonight xx"

"hi, don't forget to drink a cup of water right this instance or you'll shrivel up and die."

"it snowed on my way here this morning, let's go out this weekend and have some fun :]"

when days are too hard to handle, weighing one of you—maybe even both of you at the same time, cause life is a bitch like that—down and burying you under the ground, you'd send long voice messages to the other. never expecting an immediate reply. just simply pressing record and spilling all the bottled negative energy that clogged your brains and chests.

so, the problem wasn't really that you couldn't see or talk to him..

the problem was that neither of you were used to any of that.

you weren't used to being away from each other for long hours throughout the day (even though he often went on tours and job events aboard), or not being able to talk and/or see him whenever you wanted to—atleast whenever your shift agreed to let you. you're stuck on this routine for months. you were so not used to that.

over the years, you and yoongi grew to become a pen and a paper: two different items that are meant to only function and be paired together. one can't be capable without the other.

yet you try to avail yourselves of the situation and take it all easy. slowly, like waking up and leaving a warm, comfy bed at 5 in the morning to gain some purpose somewhere out there.

so, while staying away from one another for several hours a day comes with heavy challenges and even melancholy at times, that doesn't mean it can't be fruitful for your relationship.

since for it to grow healthier, a couple, intentionally or not, sometimes needs to take some "time off" to preserve the connection and intimacy between them.

you always remind yoongi of how much you had missed him during the day, which is something that never failed to put a smile on his face and trigger a stream of butterflies in his stomach.

love and yearning are two inseparable powerful emotions that one can't defeat, and absence makes the heart grow fonder. that's the beauty of the challenge your relationship was subject to at this new stage.

"I am still me, you are still you. everything's gonna be alright." yoongi would say as he hugs your face into his chest.

he always reminds you that this new chapter the two of you have entered together, hand in hand and with shaking hearts, is one that he'd been dreading but looking forward to for a very long time.

a chapter that made him understand how much he needs your existence in his life. to be himself and to be the somebody you need and deserve.

and he makes sure to translate that into your skin as he traces it with his lips and fingertips when you finally fall into each other's embrace.

[skyahri]

Retire |Kakashi X Reader| HC

Summary: You need some convincing to leave ANBU.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and depression. Mentions of suicide. A bit angsty and self-destructive, but fluffy overall.

- - - - -

Even though he'd retired a few years back, you were still an active ANBU captain.

The job was grueling, and he was well aware that the longer you stayed, the worse the missions became.

That isn't just because of the overall baggage people acquire, but because seasoned black ops were often sent on the more... unethical missions.

You'd been acting off recently. He had let it go at first, knowing how taxing the line of work could be, but something in his mind was bugging him to investigate.

He assumed everything had started to actually get to you, so he decided to check in on you between missions with team 7.

He knocked on your door. It took a minute, but you answered.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this wasn't it.

Your appearance was appalling.

You'd lost a lot of weight, you had bags under your eyes, and you reeked of alcohol.

"Just checking in on you. It's been a while."

"Yeah, Tsunade has me on back to back missions. This is my first break in months."

He had assumed his intensive schedule with his team was the thing keeping you two apart, but apparently not.

"How about you get cleaned up while I go get us something to eat? My treat."

"I'm pretty tired, Kashi. I think I'd like to continue rotting for the time being. Thanks for the offer, though."

You gently shut the door in his face.

A sour look plastered itself on his face.

Unfortunately, your use of rotting didn't seem too far off, so he decided to talk to a third party about it.

His first stop was to see Tenzo. Maybe he knew what was up since you two worked so closely.

"I've noticed as well. I tried to ask, but they told me it wasn't appropriate for subordinates to question their captain."

Add that to the list of odd behavior.

You loved Tenzo like family, just like Kakashi did, so the sudden change was worrisome.

He went to ask Asuma as well, knowing he had been in the village more often than he had recently.

Asuma pulled him inside his home and away from prying eyes. Last thing he wanted was the wrong person hearing such a sensitive information.

"We already talked to Tsunade about it months ago when we noticed a decline in her health. Word got back to them, they said something about breach of trust, and they haven't spoken to any of us since."

Kakashi just nodded.

He remembered a time where he also reacted poorly when he'd been questioned in a similar manner.

The only difference is lord Third actually listened instead of allowing him to dig himself deeper into an early grave.

He dwelled on it for a few days.

He cared about you deeply. It was different than any of his other friendships- more personal and open.

The last thing he wanted was to go behind your back and end up with the same treatment the rest of the group was getting.

So he put on his big boy pants and showed up at your door again with vengeance.

He had been practicing what he'd say the whole way over. He needed to be prepared for anything you threw at him so he didn't falter.

But when you opened the door, his fire simmered out.

You just looked so tired.

His words got stuck in his throat.

So he did the only thing he could think of - he just walked forward, straight into you, and wrapped you up in a hug.

You resisted at first, but the second his warmth hit your bones, you relaxed.

It only lasted for a moment before the feelings started to set in, causing your body to shake with sobs.

You fell to the ground, dragging him with you, but his hold didn't loosen one bit.

"It's okay. I'm here for you."

That only made things worse. Something about his comfort was making all the feelings you've worked so hard to repress bubble up to the surface.

After you'd visibly calmed down, he'd picked you up and carried you to the couch. He positioned you so you'd be touching as much as possible without him being too forward.

"I hate ANBU."

Straight to the point. He wasn't sure if that was good or not.

"Why don't you retire? It's been almost fifteen years. That's way longer than most make it."

You hesitated. You had a reason, but the thought of saying it out loud made it sound so silly.

One look at Kakashi’s face told you he wasn't messing around.

You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. It made it easier to answer without him looking at you.

"If it's not me going out there, its someone else. I'm already too far gone, may as well save someone else from this fate."

Oh.

Kakashi had fully been expecting some sort of 'I can handle it' response, but this one was so... awful. Just absolutely heart-wrenching.

He collected his thoughts, trying to find a way to reason with you.

"There are people in ANBU who can handle that kind of mental load. You were that person many years ago,"

You just looked at him with that sad, defeated face, and it broke his heart all over again.

"But that's not the case anymore. It's time to pass on the torch."

You shook your head, ready to get up and kick him out. He just pulled you back down and held your hands in his.

"I was so angry when I was forced to retire. I felt like I could do more, like it wasn't that bad, and everyone was underestimating me. Do you know what happens when shinobi like us aren't told to quit?"

You shook your head.

"They end up like my father."

You stayed silent after that. How could you argue when he had just pulled the dead dad card?

So you promised to think about it.

He knew that would be as good as it would get, so he dropped it and opted to switch to a lighter subject.

After an hour or so of talking, you fell asleep. He carried you to your bed and tucked you in. He thought about staying over, but decided against it.

He didn't see you the next day. He'd knocked on your door, but no one answered, and he couldn't sense you inside.

He hoped you were just busy and not on another mission.

He did see you the next day, however.

He was heading to the Hokage's tower to chat with Tsunade about team 7's next mission when he bumped into you.

You smiled at him.

It felt like he was looking at a different person. You were almost glowing. Your eyes seemed a bit brighter, face looked a little fuller, and overall vibe was less damming.

"I retired this morning."

He damn near hugged you in front of the whole village.

"That's great to hear."

[oizysian]

Part III. Irreplaceable

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Word count: 1.6k

“Why haven’t you sent Maximoff your demands yet, Natasha?”

“I know that Wanda is suffering. Right now, that’s enough.”

“How is that enough?” Yelena snapped. “You could have all of her assets, her businesses - all of her power.”

“I have what matters most.”

“To her! Not to you!”

Natasha finally raised her head to acknowledge her sister, her expression unchanging.

“Y/N matters more to me than owning everything Wanda has.”

“And what about owning Wanda? That was your goal. That was the whole point of this!”

“Owning Wanda would be a bonus.” Natasha admitted. “But having Y/N and knowing Wanda is suffering, unable to do anything for her, is enough for now.”

Natasha walked over to her sister and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly in assurance.

“We will have her in time. We’ll have it all. Then the Romanoff’s will be the most powerful family in New York.”

Natasha began to walk off, but Yelena’s words stopped her in her tracks.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on her for what she did to us.” She growled.

“And for what she did to Clint. I haven’t forgotten.” Natasha said softly.

“It seems that with Y/N you’ve disregarded everything else.”

“Not everything, sestra. Wanda and the empire she’s built will be mine.”

•

Wanda couldn’t control it for another minute longer.

She threw her glass against the wall, watching as it smashed into tiny bits and the contents spilled all along the now damaged surface.

In a rage, she grabbed armfuls of paperwork scattered among her desk and tossed it all on the ground.

She kicked and punched and scratched at everything she could get her hands on, not only destroying everything around her, but slowly destroying herself.

“If I hadn’t been such a bitch …” she grumbled to herself, her fingers trailing along the bloodstain on the wall from her self-inflicted injuries. “Now I lost her. Just like …” she let out a sob. “Just like Pietro.”

She slid down the wall, sitting amongst her scattered papers and broken furniture. What had she done? What would become of Y/N now?

Tears stained her cheeks, the bags under her eyes evidence that she hadn’t been sleeping or taking care of herself in the slightest. She searched day and night for Y/N, never having any luck, always a step behind Natasha.

She brought her hands up to her face, blood mixing with her tears as she rubbed her eyes.

Her men had done what they thought they should’ve; they destroyed, robbed, and even burned down numerous of Natasha’s well known owned establishments. Wanda hadn’t ordered it, but she certainly didn’t tell them to stop. So it had been weeks, months even that they were out destroying things and she was searching fruitlessly for Y/N.

“I need to pull myself together.” She said softly, looking down at her wounded hands. “I have to - for Y/N.”

Her knuckles were scraped and bruised, her nails left half moon cuts on her palms, and she suspected she might’ve even broken one of her fingers while she went around destroying the room.

“Y/N needs me … she needs me to be strong.”

With a groan, she lifted herself up, bracing her weight on whatever was left of her desk. She panted softly, her tears still staining her pink cheeks as she calmed herself down. She would find Y/N and she would get her back.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Wanda?” Dimitri opened the door slightly, peeking in before stepping fully inside.

“What is it, Dimi?” Her voice was low and her accent was thick. She was tired.

“Your proof.” He said, holding up his phone. “I got it.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with hope.

“Get him.”

•

“Why won’t you eat, detka? Are you sick?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

I looked away from her. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want to live. I had given myself to a monster to save the woman I loved and I was in hell. Natasha wasn’t cruel to me, not really. As a matter of fact, sometimes she was rather … loving. She seemed to care about me but I couldn’t trust her. She was only keeping me here to hurt Wanda.

She reached over to me and grabbed my chin gently, turning my face to look at her.

“When will you stop thinking about her? Haven’t I treated you right? Taken care of you?”

“Yes,” my voice was small. “But …”

She moved herself closer to me, mere inches of space between our faces as she looked into my eyes.

“Wanda didn’t treat you right. I do. All you did was fight and say hateful things towards each other. Why do you yearn for that?”

How could she know that? Her words swam around in my head, the reality of the situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. How did she know so much about our relationship?

The door burst open and I turned my attention to whoever just entered the room like a bat out of hell. She continued to stare at me, uncaring about the intrusion.

“They know.”

When I realized who had entered the room, I went pale, my body stiffening with realization.

“That sounds like a personal problem, doesn’t it, Leo?”

He looked panicked, and I had never seen such a look on his face in my life. But what was he doing here? What was going on?

“They know everything. She’ll kill me -”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that,” she turned her head to face him. “Before you helped me kidnap her girlfriend, hm?”

“Leo…” I whispered, unable to accept what I was hearing.

He looked at me, flinching slightly at the look of betrayal on my face, and turned his attention back to Natasha.

“You have to protect me!”

“I don’t have to do anything.” She said with a smile.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my head on them as I tried to accept what I had just been thrust into. Leo had betrayed me, betrayed Wanda. No, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.

Natasha ran her hand up and down my back, the sound of the fabric of my shirt ruffling the only sound in the silent room.

“Why don’t we let Y/N decide what happens to you?”

I could almost hear the grin that was plastered on her face at the situation. I didn’t even bother to look up at them. I shook my head.

“What was that?” She asked tauntingly, stroking my hair.

“Send him to Wanda.” I whispered softly and she returned her attention to Leo.

“Looks like your time is up, buddy. You were a great help.”

“You-you can’t do this to me! Not after what I’ve done!”

“Your usefulness has come and gone. Maybe you should’ve thought this through.”

I finally looked up at him, his face completely white and his body shaking. He feared Wanda - as he should. He had been one of her most trusted men, one of her oldest friends, and he betrayed her. Wanda had killed people for less.

Without another word, he turned and ran out, probably planning his escape from both women if he was smart. I stared at the opened door as Natasha continued to touch me mindlessly, stroking my hair, caressing my back. She always had to be touching me in some way.

“I’ll let Wanda take care of him. He’s nothing to me.”

“Why did you let him believe differently?”

I shifted my eyes towards her and she was still smiling.

“My offer to him was money, a position of power … respect. If he believed that he was irreplaceable, that was his own mistake.” I finally turned to face her. “Nobody is safe in this business.”

“You used him. Just like you’re using me.”

“I’m not using you, printsessa. If I was, would I have kept you alive this long?”

Fear struck me harder than any blow ever could. She was right. If she was just using me as bait or as a tool of revenge, this would’ve been over long ago. This was something else, and that scared me more than anything.

“I take care of what’s mine.” She took one of my hands in hers and brought it up to her lips, kissing my knuckles. “He was never part of my family. Never would be.”

“What am I to you?” I asked shakily, watching her with wide eyes.

“You … are what’s left of my humanity.”

The questions burned my throat but before I could ask she continued to speak.

“Do you know how many there were before you?” I shook my head. “Four. None of them lasted more than a month. But you …” she spoke as she pressed my hand against her cheek. “You’re different. I know now why Wanda kept you so secret.”

“She was ashamed of me. Ashamed to love me.” I said sadly.

“She knew you were special and wanted to keep you all for herself.”

I looked her up and down for a moment before blinking wordlessly. She was being raw and honest with me. Why?

“What do you want from Wanda?”

She licked her lips, her eyes searching mine.

“I want everything. I want everything that she is. I want her.”

I flinched at her words and pulled away from her. Me giving into her meant nothing. It was just another victory for her. She was still going to go after Wanda for whatever reason and my choice to give in or not meant nothing to her.

“You were her everything and now you’re mine. If you had resisted me, this may have been a more painful experience for you.” She laughed. “But definitely not for me.”

She picked up the plate of food that had been completely ignored and stood from the bed.

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. Remember that, printsessa.”

•

@marvelogic @casquinhaa @mathxa @oh-thats-cute @ornorr @milkeeteaa @souanick @nothanksbye07 @romanoff101 @dracarys8287 @marvelwomen-simp @tigerlillyruiz @lzzysfreak @whatdoyoudo12 @mrsrushman

[atlasalexanderwrites]

IMAGINE...being there with Arthur when he goes to Thomas Downes for his payment and interfering before things can go too far (preventing Arthur from catching TB)

WORD COUNT: 953

WARNING: none that I can think about, Arthur may be OOC some.

OTHER: reader is gender neutral; no gender specifics given to the reader so your choice!

A/N: the brain rot is real with RDR2 and with Arthur Morgan; I've been feeling icky for the last few days and the others in my house are all coming down with stuff so I needed a comfort character aka Mr. Morgan himself.

A/N2: I've been wanting to write an alternative to the scene where Arthur gets sick where...well...he DOESNT get sick. Originally, I attempted writing him as more low honor Arthur and then instead got this instead lol

A/N3: ENJOY!

“Arthur stop.”

“Arthur this has gone on long enough.”

“ARTHUR DAMMIT!”

Your weren't overly, physically strong by any means, but your partner wasn't in his right mind and was swinging blindly at the poor, frail man he had pinned to the ground. Arthur wasn't thinking clear enough that you were able to knock him to the ground and off of the man who immediately rolled to the side and started coughing, blood splattering all over the ground.

You held a hand to Arthur's chest, praying like hell he had the sense not to start swinging on you as well. “Mr. Downes, I am so sorry about this. I…it seems the heat has gotten to my partner. Is there somewhere that we can speak, calmly and peacefully?” The man had been upset the entire time you and Arthur had been there. Whatever reasons he had for borrowing from Strauss, you knew that you and Arthur didn't have even half of the story. And while you ran with the Van Der Linde gang, the last thing you enjoyed doing was swindling poor people who clearly were unable to repay the loan.

“Arthur, go clean your hands off. Now. And stay with the horses.” You demanded, openly glaring at him and silently warning him against arguing with you.

He grumbled and spat at the ground, but knew you well enough not to push his luck.

You waited for him to stomp off before turning back to the Downes family. 

They were watching you with hesitation and distrust, which you couldn't blame them at all for, but you could also see something hidden just beneath the surface. Something akin to hope.

You sat with them for over an hour, listening to their troubles and how they had ended up this way. They truly were just misfortunate souls who had landed on bad times that seemed to only get worse.

Mr. Downes was sick. Really sick.

It had affected his ability to work as he once had. Taking aloan from Strauss had felt like the only thing to do at the time. Even if the man knew it was a bad idea.

“Get well, please. You won't hear from myself or my associates again.” You promised, biting back the raw anger building in your stomach for Leopold Strauss. What the hell had that man been thinking loaning to these people?

He's a fraud. Just like the rest of us in the Van Der Linde gang. Liars, cheats, and no-goods.

How could you have expected anything but this?

“Feeling better?” You asked Arthur, coldly, as you met back up with him at the horses.

“Oh don't start with me. What the hell was that back there? I nearly had the payment.”

“You nearly guaranteed your own death, Morgan, don't get an attitude with me. That man is sick, his family is struggling, have some…some compassion. This isnt you, Arthur. You're not a thoughtless, careless asshole who beats up the helpless.”

“Oh what the hell do you know about me?”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up into your horse's saddle, “I know you’re better than this. I know you're not meant to be the next Dutch. And I know that all of this eats away at you at night; whether you want to admit it or not.”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yeah well, you think you’re so smart, dontcha?”

“Smarter than you’re acting,” you grit your teeth and pulled at your horse’s reins to turn away from him, “Get your head out of your ass, Arthur, and stop trying to act so damn tough. The others might like you like this, but I don’t. And I can think of a few others who don’t either.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur was sitting atop his own horse now and rode up alongside you. He was still upset, but his tone was lower and more gruff than anything else, “I was handling things just fine back there.”

“Sure, Arthur.”

“I didn’t need you to step in.”

“I know that, Cowboy.”

“Will you stop answerin’ me like that?” A sigh slipped from your lips as Arthur’s hand suddenly reached across the small distance between the horses and wrapped around your wrist, keeping you from taking off and trying to force you to pay attention to him. “You’re still too soft on people, ya hear? He knew what he was getting into when he accepted Strauss’ loan.”

Meeting his gaze, you nodded and responded with, “Yes, he did, but people make mistakes, Arthur, and it shouldn’t be met with a stiff fist to the face. He’s ill, Strauss took advantage of that. Thomas Downes and so many more are simply trying to get by. Just as we are. It doesn’t matter now. The debt is settled, I’ll handle things with Strauss.”

It was easy enough to see the look of thought behind Arthur’s blue eyes, and you could tell he was thinking over everything that had happened and all you had said. Finally, he nodded stiffly and let go of your hand. “Alright then, Partner. I’ll follow your lead.”

“Really?” You questioned, brow raised.

Arthur shrugged, “Don’t sound so surprised. Don’t I always do as you say?” His tone had returned to a more teasing nature, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement.

“No, you don’t. If you did, we wouldn’t always end up in these situations.”

Humming, Arthur rubbed at his chin and asked, “Would you have me any other way?”

A laugh escaped your mouth before you could stop it and this time when you rolled your eyes it was out of fondness instead of irritation as before. “No, Arthur Morgan, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

*

Hey! I hope you all enjoyed! If so please consider liking and reblogging! Thank you!

Please stay safe!

~ Atlex Writes

[arisingonmorningsinnocent]

Years later, I still think “Poetry Week” was one of the cleverest things the WTNV writing team ever did. Like they took an episode concept that was literally just “Night Vale citizens write poetry and Cecil reads it on the radio! Cute, right? :)” and made it about people living in a dystopian surveillance state using one of their rare opportunities for self-expression to express the fear and paranoia and low grade trauma that shape their daily lives through absolutely horrifying poems. 

Poems about censorship, about anger against the state, about being forcibly silenced (“The town criers have cross-stitched their mouths shut and stapled their eyes open.”), about being watched, being harmed, being turned against the people you love but are unable to fully trust. And all interspersed with Cecil’s cheery, meaningless compliments on writing that he clearly isn’t thinking about (or at least is pretending not to understand the subtext of, which is my personal headcanon). 

Honestly I kind of want to do a full textual analysis of Katherine Ciel’s poem (under the cut) alone, because it’s a beautiful piece of writing where it’s so clear how hard the fictional poet is trying to veiledly describe what it’s like to live with Night Vale-typical level of fear and tension and random, unpredictable moments of surreal violence. The way people become numb to the horror (“Many find it difficult to breathe/without the atmosphere,/but we knew how;/we just stopped breathing”) but also the way that same numbness cuts them off from other people and makes intimacy with others into a terrifying, monstrous thing. And Cecil reads this as a traffic report. I am trying SO hard not to write a whole essay about this. 

But my favorite thing about “Poetry Week” is that it’s no more disturbing than any other Night Vale episode. Same humor, same beautiful prose, like it’s not on a different level than the rest of the show and I can and often do listen to it as just one more soothing, funny WTNV episode. Which is fun because it’s a meta-parallel to how in-universe Poetry Week is a fun community event to bring the town together, but also a rare and precious opportunity for tacit protest against an oppressive regime.

And I just… this podcast is so good, you know? Man. It’s so good. I want to eat it.

On Sunday, a lambent crevice

opened up in the street outside my house.

By Tuesday, birds were flying into it.

“I probably won’t miss you,” my mother said.

“I’m only interested in the end of the world,” I replied.

Many find it difficult to breathe

without the atmosphere,

but we knew how;

we just stopped breathing.

We’re at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner,

and they’re serving up fruit

from the plants growing out of the waitress.

The closed sign whispers, “Please, don’t touch me.”

We watch bodies fall to the ground outside

like deep sea creatures surfacing.

You turn to me and ask,

“Do you ever think about suicide?”

I look away from you and close my eyes,

eat the raspberries to confuse the blood in my mouth.

Now you’re in the only car in the parking lot at midnight

and you’re watching me throw stones at the moon

which hangs low in the sky

so that he can look into your house.

Your sister tried to touch him

from her window once,

and he flinched.

Now he and the oceans watch her with a quiet concern.

The lilac sky is trying to rest her head on his shoulder,

all trees gradually growing through her.

A hummingbird whispers to you,

“Be careful. Under her dress is her skin,”

and then builds his nest in the middle of the highway.

I look back to you,

and you close your eyes.

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .4

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Mutual masturbation; Come eating; Angst; Vague mention of abortion; Discussions of child neglect; Discussions of unwanted pregnancy

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Some of this is so… phew… idk what came over me or how i come up with some of this shit. sorry (but not really). Joel’s a little nasty in this beware

Art is by Denis Sarazhin.

Word Count: 7.7K

Read on AO3

.4

A single person is missing for you, and the whole world is empty.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

To think that despite his momentary acquiescence to your need for space, he was not, afterwards, made into a raving, snarling beast prowling its cage after having tasted you, would be fallacy – because that was what he was calling it in his mind, for now. Not yet ready to accept it within himself as a full blown rejection, so yes, for now, space, time.

He returns home with Sarah after the lakehouse – Eva gone off with her girlfriends on an extension of the weekend, wanting to draw out the farewell to summer just a little longer – to their routine of lunches and snacks and daycare and evenings playing mermaids and dinosaurs in the little pool in the backyard that he’d gotten for her at HEB. He tries to be good, to remain calm, controlled, but it’s just short of impossible. He feels as though he still has the taste of you on the surface of his tongue, the sounds of your moans ringing in his ears at all hours of the day, in bed at night, hard and aching and alone, wanting you. This turns out to be a different type of hell to the one he’s usually used to, that of monotony and loneliness and resentment. No, this is burning and painful, a type of fire that whips through his arteries and chars his bones and leaves him dizzy and disoriented.

He’s never experienced something like this before. Not in his entire life. 

It is not easy, per se, but productive, to lose himself in his work, and the start of Sarah’s school year. She’s in a 3K program for the fall, her first time going to a real school, and the work and preparation and pure fucking anxiety induced at the thought of his baby going to such a big school is overwhelming. No small feat to accomplish all on his own. 

But at night, after he’s worked himself into the ground all day, and read Sarah her bedtime story, at least three times, sometimes up to seven, but never passing ten, that was their very strict rule, and tucked her in and checked the closet and under the bed and behind the door for monsters, when he’s finally found himself alone and quiet and with a spare, but infinitely painful moment to think of you, he lets you in, in full force.

He pulls his shirt up over the back of his head, tossing it into the hamper as he passes his closet into his restroom, undoes his belt and jeans, pulling his contraband from the pocket, to push them off as he reaches to turn on the shower. 

As he lets the water heat up, he pauses to look at himself in the mirror. Tall, long frame, still pleasing to a woman, he’d imagine. Well, he hopes so. He’s still strong, his shoulders broad, his chest built from the long hours of hauling and climbing and exhaustive physical labor. There are a few grays threaded through the dark curls at his temples. Sprouting, just in the last year, to remind him that he’s getting older. One of his buddies had told him that eventually everything went gray, everything. That weirded the fuck out of him, to be honest.  He hates the thought of you seeing that, thinking of him as old. You’re so much younger than him. So pretty. Too pretty. His middle has gone slightly softer since hitting forty, but only slightly. There’s no helping that. And the small creases at the corners of his eyes… shit, he’s getting old. But his cock is still long and thick, and he’ll give that to you as much as you’ll let him. If you ever let him. All the time if he can. All he has to do is find a way to see you again, to convince you to let him see you again.

He feels a small bitter ribbon of self consciousness curl through his stomach as he takes himself in. He doesn’t want you to think of him as some old man. Some old, sleazy man who’d seen you and been so fucking desperate for you, he hadn’t cared that he was married, that you’re too young for him, that he has a family, and responsibilities and a life, like some pathetic fucking pervert. You’re just so lovely, so soft and pretty and you smell so good, always. And he’s been so alone for so fucking long. He is lonely. And you, you’d looked at him, you’d seen him, you’d wanted him back just as fiercely as he’d wanted you, even if just for a moment. How was he ever supposed to be strong enough to resist that? And further than your wanting, you’re good and kind and smart and so fucking funny and adorable. Joel could be strong when he needed to be, but he could also be weak, and he thinks that you, perhaps, have the power to make him weaker than anything else. 

What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the person who you could very well fall, probably, very deeply in love with?

Because yes, even now, he is emotionally aware enough to recognize that. More than anything, he can recognize that he has, as of yet, never been in love, but that you present the great, great possibility for that. And yes, it’s too soon, and maybe nonsensical or crazy or what have you, but Joel has always been a man that’s known himself well. When he knows, he knows, and when he chooses, he chooses, and he is very close to knowing and choosing you. 

He looks down at your panties laying on the bathroom counter – the ones he’d stolen. After you’d slipped them off, too wet from your come, from him making you come – they’re his now. 

He runs his thumb and forefinger along the silk lace at the edge. They’re a pretty, soft blue. He loves the color blue now. It will, forevermore, be his favorite color after this. The cut in the back is high, he knows the soft flesh of your ass was left mostly uncovered by them, he remembers he felt it when you rode his thigh. He wishes he could have seen it. He hopes he’ll have another chance to see it. 

If he thinks about it hard enough, he can imagine that the middle gusset is still damp from you. He brings them to his face, presses them to his nose and inhales deeply. The scent: still faintly musky, but also, slightly sweet. He sticks his tongue out to taste the fabric, and a violent shiver passes through him. He has to clutch at the countertop to hold himself upright. His cock is fully erect and leaking now. 

He has to taste you. He has to get the chance to. He’ll die if he doesn’t. He’s sure of it.

He brings the soft lace down to his aching erection. He doesn’t care if he’s disgusting. He doesn’t care about anything. All he wants is to feel you. To temper this fire churning in his blood. He can’t remember the last time his body felt like this, the last time he wanted something this fucking badly he felt like he’d die if he didn’t have it. Maybe never – he doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this. He wraps your panties around his hard length and starts to jack himself off. Strong, tight strokes from base to tip with the tiny, blue silk sliding along his fevered skin. The sound of your orgasm, the look in your eyes as you humped his thigh, ground your little clit on him and soaked his denim. He should’ve touched you more when he had the chance. He wants to fuck you so badly, wants to sink into the tight, wet clutch of your cunt and fuck you full of his come. Mark you. Brand himself into your skin so that you’re never without him. He wants you to smell like him. He wants to feel the wet gush he felt on his jeans on his cock and dripping down his balls, and Jesus fucking Christ, he comes at that. Long, thick ropes of white spend, spitting from his swollen tip at the thought of your pussy coming around him, a desperate whimper escaping in the quiet loneliness of his restroom.  

-

He thinks of you constantly, what seems like every moment of the day, in the weeks that follow. As much as he tries to keep a straight head on, he can’t. He craves you, dreams of you, fucks his hand to the memory of you coming for him, spilling his seed over and over again in the shower at the remembered look in your eyes and the sounds you made for him. He can’t help himself. 

Outside of that, everything else in his life is bleak and slow and… and he doesn’t know what else to call it, except for sad and wanting. Lonely. To have touched something so alive, so beautiful and sweet and perfect, and then be forced to return to the barren landscape that is his life in everything outside of his daughter, it’s jarringly difficult to do. He wants to be strong, to do what you asked of him, but it had been so long since he’d really wanted something for himself. Couldn’t remember what the last thing had been, really, and so to now have something to desire, something to want and think of, it makes him weak and fills his head with all kinds of excuses to see you, to call you – he’d forced Tommy to steal your number for him out of Gerri’s phone – to go to your work and wait for you to come out, just so he can catch a single glimpse of you.

He restrains himself from that, though. He forces himself to focus his mind on other things, Sarah and school and playdates, and he works himself like a dog, taking on more contracts than he ever has before. He doesn’t give himself any time to rest, any time to think, and in the few moments that he does, when he stares at your number on the screen of his phone, imagining what it is he’d say to you if he called, if you answered, what the sound of your voice would be like saying hello to him, saying his name, or in the moments when he fucks himself raw and spent and sad, those are the moments when he feels weakest, when he feels most alone, when he’s almost overwhelmed with wanting. 

-

He only lasts a measly three weeks after the lake house before he’s outside of the elementary school, one late Wednesday afternoon during the second week of the new school year. The sky is dark and angry, on the verge of a downpour, and he’s been waiting, agitated and anxious, for about half an hour, before you finally come out the double doors. 

The lightest sprinkling of rain is starting up, and he jumps out of his truck’s cab, jacket in hand, to approach you. He says your name softly as he comes up on your side while you’re distracted, digging in your purse for something.

You jump slightly at the sound of his voice and turn your wide, worried eyes on him, “Joel–” your voice, soft and breathy, so sweet, “Is everything okay? What are you doing here? Is Sarah okay?”

He holds his hands up in what he hopes is an appeasing, non-threatening gesture, he doesn’t want you nervous. Fucking Christ, asking for Sarah with that look of worry in your eyes, “Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” how in the fuck is he supposed to not be obsessed with you? “I was just – I was just hoping we could talk, is all.”

You look around at the sparsely filled parking lot, as if searching for witnesses, or perhaps, an escape, but then you turn back to him and pause to take him in. He watches the sweep of your eyes down his body, and then back up, stopping to search for something in his eyes. Whatever you find there must give you the answer you need because you nod your head once, “Alright, we can talk,” you say softly.

“My truck? Can we drive for a bit? I’ll bring you back.” You nod again, and he drapes his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from the drizzle as he leads you to his truck. “S’bout to come down hard,” he murmurs as he opens the passenger door for you, taking your wrist in his hold to help you up into the truck. He can’t help himself, he reaches for your seatbelt and buckles you in himself – is filled with an obscenely embarrassing fizz of pleasure at the gesture of it. 

You’re looking at him with the most concerned little frown marring the soft spot between your delicate brows, “Are you okay?” your voice slow and unsure, and then more of him being unable to help himself, to keep his hands to himself, because he reaches up and gently brushes his thumb over the little frowning wrinkle, nods his head once. 

“I’m okay, baby.”

He drives for a bit, takes you to a spot up in the hills he likes to come to sometimes when he needs to think. Somewhere the two of you can be alone and quiet, just for a moment. He parks the truck by a copse of trees, a view of Austin on the other side of the two of you. The rain has turned into a violent downpour by now. He shuts off the engine and looks out at the view of the city. 

-

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t bother you – you asked me to stay away, but –” He lets his head fall back against the headrest and sighs, and the sound of it is so weary, pained in a way that’s so very, very sad. It makes you hurt for him. You reach across the center console to grip his bicep, you can’t help yourself. You could see from the first look at his face that something was wrong. You know he wouldn’t have come to look for you if he didn’t need you now. 

“You’re not bothering me. I know I shouldn’t, but I wanted to see you too.” You only confess this because of the look in his eyes. The glassy, burdened look of them. You wish that you could climb into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, press your warmth into him. The rain hits the windshield like bullets, the sound deafening. The world outside of his truck’s cabin seems distorted, as if this liminal space the two of you sit in now, has been carved out of the rest of the real world, and the two of you exist here now, only, together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” he wraps his hand over yours on his arm, drags his thumb over the smooth little hills of your knuckles. His gaze out the window is so far away, lost, something almost childlike in its desolation. You watch the strong ripple of his neck as he swallows, clears his throat. “Nothing – just wanted to see you. ‘Dunno… Felt so tired today.” He closes his eyes for a moment, “Couldn’t stop myself. Wanted to just give myself this one thing.” He lets his head roll against the seat to look at you, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile. So beautiful and so sad, and you can tell that something is endlessly wrong. You feel afraid, for one moment, that he’s going to start crying, the sadness in his eyes is so overwhelming. You don’t think you’ll be able to stand the sight of his tears, you think they might break you. “Just wanted to look at you, to sit here with you, just for a little bit.”

“Alright.” You’re quiet for a beat, watching him watch the rain. Part of you wants to give him space, give him quiet, but you need to know what’s wrong. You can’t bear the look in his eyes right now. “Did something happen?”

He’s silent, as if gathering his thoughts or his strength around him, and then: “Eva had a pregnancy scare this week.” A jagged shiver slices through you.

“What?” You croak, you try to pull your hand back, but he clamps down on your bones, holds you to him. “But I thought–”

He shakes his head, “Not mine.”

“Joel… what? Are– are you–” You blink furiously, at a loss. What do you say to the man who you’re kind of having an affair with when he tells you his wife, who is also seemingly having an affair, might be pregnant with another man’s child? This is all so, so fucked up. So ugly. You swallow, turn to look out at the rain. You don’t want to cry, but you can’t seem to help the tears from pooling. A bombardment of recurring images from your childhood slingshotting through your mind; your mother, leaving, angry, cold, quiet. Always pushing you away. The sound of her crying through her bedroom door, your child’s ear, pressed to the cool grain, trying to get as close to her as possible even though she doesn’t want you. Always shutting you out. Your father, dead to the world on the sofa in the living room, drowning in his liquor and yearning and hurt. The sight of a tall, handsome stranger, coming up the front walk to ring the doorbell, to take your mother away with him. The way he’d crouched down from his great height to ask you what your name was because she hadn’t even bothered to tell the man she was having an affair with, the man she was leaving you for, what your name was. 

What is it about being unlovable, you wonder, and why is it that some are cursed with it so cruelly, while others are not?

“Hey,” Joel tugs on your wrist, pulls you closer to him. “I told you, we’re not like that, we’ve never been. I don’t want you thinkin’ somethin’ else, that I haven’t been honest.” He drags the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone, tips your head back to catch your eyes. You let them flutter shut and swallow, open them again. If you talk you’ll cry, but he needs words from you now. You swallow again, shake your head. 

“It’s– it’s not that. I believe you. And even if it was otherwise, I have no right–”

“Stop. Don’t say that. You know that isn’t true. You have the right to honesty after what I’ve told you, after what we’ve done.” You try to pull back, but he brings his palm to wrap around the back of your neck and grip you by the scruff. “Stop,” he grits, “Don’t pull away from me.” 

You bring your palms up to his chest, clutch at the collar of his shirt. “I’m not. I’m not, I’m sorry. It’s just–” you huff a sharp, bitter laugh, “Sometimes it’s like you’re just telling me the story of my childhood, over and over again. Like you’re living it again for me. This all sounds very pathetically familiar.” A tear finally falls, you can’t help it. A weeper in a long line of weepers, always. 

“Sweetheart…” he brushes the track of your tear away with his thumb.

You shake your head. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Is she?”

“She’s fine. Took her to the doctor this morning.”

“God, Joel– I don’t – I don’t know how you do this.” Another tear. You think of your father, how weak, how broken he was after her. He could have never shouldered the things Joel does. You feel very sad, very sorry, for the both of them, as different as they are. You feel sorry for the whole miserable lot of you, really.

“She needed my help, she was scared–” his thumb sweeps a slow, hypnotizing path up and down the back of your neck. The rough callus on his thumb catches at your sensitive skin and makes you feel hot and sweaty and overwhelmed for the feel of it on every other tender place on your body. “Terrified, really. Of being trapped like that again.”

“Trapped?”

“Sarah was never her plan. Neither of us were. She never wanted any of this.”

“You told me the marriage wasn’t conventional… but I didn’t – I didn’t think Sarah was included in that…” Your stories are too similar, the similarities too painfully familiar.

“We met at a bar, it was–” he looks away, and you watch a hot flush flood his cheeks. He’s embarrassed to tell you this. “It was a one night thing. Her birth control failed, and then – it was just – well, ending the pregnancy was never an option for her, and I told her from the get go that I’d do whatever she wanted, support her in anything she chose. She chose to go on with it. So I asked her to marry me, it made sense, it was– it was the convenient thing. At least, at the time – in my mind, it seemed so. But we – we were strangers, there was no connection. And then… I don’t know. It wasn’t, eventually – it wasn’t the right thing, at all, for any of us. She never wanted to be a mother. She told me once, after, that she’d chosen wrong, she’d made the wrong decision. And I always tried to be supportive, but by that time, well – we had Sarah by that time, and I– I loved her more than anything I’d ever loved in my whole life. Didn’t even know it was possible to love anything that much – and it made me so fucking angry with her – to–  to hear her say something like that, that she should’ve gotten rid of her. It was – I don’t know – a very complicated and painful thing –  for the both of us to grapple with, I guess. But I–” he pauses, takes a deep breath. His eyes shift madly, looking out the window as if the rain will bring with it an explanation or an escape for whatever it is that’s churning inside his mind as he tells you this. “There was never really anything to be angry with, I don’t think. No real reason or focus for my anger. I realized it’s impossible to fault a person for not being what they were never meant to be. She never wanted this. And I hadn’t planned for it, it just happened. And the decisions we made were made, and then things just ended up as they did. Sometimes – I don’t,” he frowns, shaking his head, “I don’t know how to say it, but–” He turns to you now, a wild, pleading look in his eyes, “But how can I say that we made a mistake, without saying that Sarah was a mistake? Because if I’ve ever done a single thing absolutely perfect, in my whole entire life, it’s that little girl. She’s perfect. You know what I mean?”

You nod, swallowing back your tears, “Yes.”

He frowns at you, his eyes filled with infinite tenderness, “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” you lie, turning to press the back of your hand to your hot eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just – it reminds me of myself, of my own mother. She – she was the same, I think. Never meant to be a mother. But not bad. It’s just what it was. And hearing you, hearing this, it makes me so sad for you, for all of you. I’m sorry.” He leans forward, wraps his hand around your jaw to press his brow to your wet cheek and just holds there. The two of you breathe each other in, match the cadence of your breaths to the other. You snake your arms around his broad shoulders to press yourself closer to him. It scares you, this feeling of necessity he forces out of you, like you need him, even this soon, for strength, for comfort, for happiness. You’ve never felt like this before, and it’s coming on so quickly, overwhelming you. You feel like you need him, and if you don’t have him you’ll never be happy for the rest of your life, you’ll never be able to forget him, to let him go. He shifts to nuzzle against your cheek and then your jaw, and then the hot press of his lips to the tender spot behind your ear. A violent tremble moves through you at the feel of his soft mouth against your skin, and you dig your nails harshly into his shoulders. 

“I just– lemme just–” he mumbles against your skin, and then that hand wrapped around your jaw is turning your head and forcing your mouth open so that he’s kissing you, licking into your mouth and everything goes tight and painful and white hot inside of you. “Jesus–” he says against your mouth. He forces your head back to deepen the angle, his other hand coming up to fist painfully in your hair, and you whimper into him. His answering groan is deep and rumbling and so, so wanting. Your heart feels like it’s flipping and squeezing and pinching inside your ribcage. You can hear how much he wants you, this, in the cadence of the sounds he makes. The kiss is wet, sloppy, full of teeth and all the desperation and yearning of these past few weeks. The days and days of not seeing him, of remembering your encounter in that dark room at the lake house, the way he’d made you come against his thigh, the sound of his own orgasm, the inhibition, the flush in his cheeks as he spilled in his jeans for you. The desperate, pathetic nights of your cunt stuffed full of your fingers, so wet and aching and still not enough even though you’d made yourself orgasm multiple times at just the memory of him. You claw at his hair and neck and back, you want to draw blood, imprint yourself on him in some way, the same way he’s imprinted himself on you. He brings the hand in your hair down to your waist to press you closer to him. The center console digs painfully into your ribs and you want to climb over it and settle in his lap, but you know you shouldn’t, that if you end up over there you’ll let him fuck you, and that you’ll never come back from that. Not ever. He drags his hand up to your breast, grips the heavy weight in his large palm and squeezes, and it hurts and it feels so, so fucking good that you rip yourself away from his mouth, push at his broad chest to force him away from you. The both of you stare at each other, wide eyed and panting great, heaving gasps. His hair is sticking up at all angles, messy from your pillaging fingers, his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed almost feverish. 

Oh, you want him so badly. This will be your undoing. 

“We– we can’t– I didn’t come here with you for– for that,” you gasp, pressing your fingers to your wet mouth.

“I know– I know– shit, we–” He passes a palm over his mouth, and you feel another tear slide down your burning cheek. You’re surprised you don’t see steam rise at the contact. “Fuck – fuck, baby, please. Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I got carried away– ”

“I’m not crying– I’m not.” Maybe if you say it enough times it’ll be true. You turn to wipe it away on the hill of your shoulder, try to hide your face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you

“I wanted you to. I want it so badly,” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut tight. You feel inconsolable. 

“I know– I know.”

You want him so badly, so badly, so badly, you want him to keep touching you forever. “It hurts, Joel. It hurts–”

“Jesus, what hurts? Tell me.” He leans forward, gripping your knee painfully tight, and you press yourself into the door at your back, “Fuck– is that sweet, little cunt aching for me? Tell me, baby.”

You nod

“Fuck, what if– what if we just – just watch each other? What if you pet your cunt for me, and let me watch? Just– just to make the ache go away? Would that be okay?”

You shake your head, unsure, but your hand is clutching his over your knee now, digging your nails into the top of his palm and letting him slowly push your knee open further. 

His voice is so coaxing. Oh, he shouldn’t use that tone of voice against you, you’re powerless to it. “You can, it’s okay. It’s just to make the ache go away, it’s okay,” and you have no choice but to capitulate, no desire to not give in.

His palm on your knee slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt to bunch at your hips, and he hooks one finger into the side of your panties to pull them down as you lift your hips, allowing him to divest you of them. So easy, you’re so fucking easy, and you don’t even care. All you can focus on right now is the throbbing ache between your legs. 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he says, “Spread your legs… that’s it.” 

“Don’t– don’t look–” you stutter as you bring your shaking fingers to your core, and he’s leaning back to undo his belt and drag his zipper down. You can’t look either, you can’t, if you do, you’ll lose, you know it. You see the peripheral movement of him reaching into his clothes to pull the heft of his cock out, the shift of his upper body as he lifts his hips to readjust his pants to free himself. Your cunt is slick and throbbing, painfully swollen. 

You watch the movement of his shoulder as he starts to jack himself, “Just your clit first, baby. Soft, little circles, yeah… how does that feel?”

“Good– good, yes.” You’re panting, mouth hanging open. There is fire in his gaze, all for you, only for you. 

“Yeah? You need more?”

“Please, Joel–” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but you don’t think it’s for your touch alone. 

“Give yourself one finger, sweetheart. Just one – tell me how wet it is? Are you soaked for me?”

You press one finger inside, and yes, yes, your’re fucking soaked for him, you say. He groans at that, the rhythm of his shoulder gets faster. “I have to look, baby. Please, please, I have to see how wet it is.” The tops of his cheeks are flushed red, but as you watch the downward shift of his eyes to your spread sex, the place where you’re impaling yourself with a single finger, his eyes flare, the flush seems to ricochet even higher, hotter. You pull your finger out to cup yourself, hide yourself, burning with shyness and lust, but fuck, the look in his eyes, it’s bright hot, devouring. No one has ever looked at you like that. Never. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, “Put ‘em back in. Fuck yourself, make yourself come. I have to see it.” So fucking gorgeous, you hear him mutter under his breath, and you finally give yourself permission to look down as you stuff two fingers back into your desperate pussy. Fuck your rules, you have to see him.

He’s huge.

Thick and long, the size of his cock is not made smaller by the massive breadth of his fist holding it in a vice-like grip, jacking it, tight and fast. The head is flushed a deep, angry red, the slit at the top weeping a pearly stream of precum that makes your mouth water and the muscles in your pelvis tighten – you want to taste him, you want him to fuck your mouth until you’re forced to swallow his load. There’s a thick vein running up the entire length of the underside of the shaft that you’re sure you’d feel his pulse in if you set your tongue against it. He’s pulled his heavy balls out over the edge of his jeans too, and he cups them and squeezes. 

“Spread yourself wider for me – yeah like that… Lemme see you stretch that cunt.”Oh, he’s so dirty. 

You’re sucking in quick, shallow gulps of air, on the verge of hyperventilating as you watch his massive palm beat at his cock, almost dizzy with lust, your blood rushing in your head, your pussy sopping wet, tight as a knot. This isn’t enough, you want to stop, you want to go further, you want him to touch you, to climb into his lap, to take that heavy, thick weight inside of you and feel him stretch you to the point of pain. “Don’t look– you shouldn’t look–” you don’t know why you say it, maybe because you feel you have to, but it’s nonsensical when your eyes are glued to him. 

“I have to look, baby. Please, don’t ask me that. I have to see it – fuck, you’re so gorgeous, look at you. Prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Stop,” you moan, arching your back further to crook your fingers inside of yourself, hitching your knees higher to pet at the spongy, tender spot inside you that you’d like him to own. “St– stop– I’m–  m’not your baby– don’t– don’t– oh fuck, I’m gonna come–” your eyes roll to the back of your head at the sound of his choked growl, his eyes glued to your stretched sex, the sounds of your wetness and his slick palm echoing in the truck cabin. 

“You are, you are – even if you won’t let me touch you, won’t let me have you – you fucking belong to me now. Already, even like this – look at you, about to come for me with just my eyes on you.” His hips start to lift into his fist, his hand almost a blur for how fast he’s fucking himself, teeth gritted, tendons in his strong neck popping starkly under the surface of his flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Fuck– fuck, it’s so pretty.”

“Stop– please, Joel, I need–”

“Wanna taste it and fuck it and fill it with my come–”

“Oh my fucking God–” you’re going to come, now, now, it’s right there. You tell him.

“One more finger – lemme see you stretch yourself… yeah like that… my good fucking girl,” grunted as you stuff a third finger inside and start to spasm, mewling high and desperate for him, grinding your clit against the mound of your palm. You want his cock to stretch you like this, and you tell him. The sound he makes at your desperate plea, as if it’s been ripped out of him, painful, desperate, savage. You watch the wide head flush an almost deeper shade, verging on purple now, and he squeezes the base cruelly, his sack fisted tight in his other hand, and he starts to come, a thick white stream of milky spend that makes your mouth water, sliding over his fist and spurting onto his exposed belly. “Oh God, Joel, I want it.” You can’t stop the words, the sight of his orgasm forces them out of you. 

“I know, baby, I know. I want to give it to you,” he says through clenched teeth. 

You both stay frozen like that for a moment as you come down, panting and staring at each other wide eyed and flushed and trembling. That was, perhaps, no, it was without a doubt, the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced with a man, and you’d barely even touched each other. Pain and pleasure coalesce to leave you shaking and sweating, your skin hypersensitive. You’re scared you’re going to start crying again and scare him, give him the wrong idea – that you’d not liked this, that you’d not wanted this. When the truth is that nothing could ever compare to how much you wanted, needed it. How much you’ll want this forever now. You want to take him inside of you. The sheer force of your desire almost has a flavor, a shape to it. The strength of it, so potent, it is almost made sentient – a living thing. 

You pull your wet fingers out, and he snaps forward suddenly, to snatch your hand towards himself and brings the slick digits into his mouth, his tongue laving hot and wet between the spaces, sucking on them. All the while his eyes are zeroed in on the space between your legs, on the place that is still clenching and stretched, so ready and eager for him to fill. You gasp at his ferocity, at the feral look in his eyes because you can see, you can see that almost sentient desire you’re filled with, reflected in his own eyes. 

“Joel–” you whisper as he presses one final kiss to the wet tips of your fingers, his eyes fluttering shut as he holds there for one moment. 

“I know–” he whispers back, and when his eyes come back to yours, there is such a depth of understanding in them. You realize in this moment, in this shared look, that the two of you are the same in an essential way. It isn’t just your desire that connects the two of you now, it’s so much more. A loneliness, a sentimentality, perhaps, a keen sense of familiarity. That vein of shyness, of being closed off, that fear of opening up, of being hurt, of being left. He’s the same, you can see it, feel it. 

You’d never thought you had a very good sense of self identity – your perception of yourself skewed in the image of your mother, of who she was, of her shadow, of the things she’d done, but in this moment, looking into the reflection of Joel’s eyes, you feel you see yourself very clearly, almost securely, for the first time. It is recognition the two of you are sharing now, for some reason, in some way, you recognize him. And you find it ironic, that now, in this moment of all times, when you’re doing the very thing that you’d always been so afraid of, of turning into the thing that you’d always feared because of your mother, it is ironic that you are finally able to cast away her shadow, her image, and see only yourself, so clearly, so wholly, because of him.

And yet, despite the sudden, blinding clarity, oh, it was all so dark, so dark, that it be this man, this unavailable, married, unreachable man, that would make you feel so wholly seen, so understood, so connected. 

Your wrist is left wet and sticky where he’s gripped you with his spend covered fingers, but you’re careful not to wipe it away. You want to be left with the tightness of his dried come over your skin. 

“Don’t say that we shouldn’t have done that,” he tells you.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

“I was going to say that I wish we could do it again – that I wish we could do more.”

“Shit–” he whispers, passes his dry palm over his mouth and then up into his hair, to tug at the messy curls. You move to right your clothes, and he follows your lead, tucking himself back into his jeans. “Me too.”

You let your head rest back against the window as the two of you stare at each other in silence for a moment. It’s comforting, filled with companionship, understanding, the intimacy of the moment the two of you just shared. Your cheeks feel hot and you can’t help but smile at him, just a little, a small laugh escaping, and then he’s returning it, smiling and laughing softly too, until the both of you are wracked with the most ridiculous, schoolyard giggles, like two blushing teenagers. It’s a wonderful moment for the purity of it, the two of you together, laughing. Later, you’re sure it will make you very sad and desperate to relive it, but now, oh, now, it really does feel so wonderful. You wish the two of you could live here forever, together in this moment, in the warm, intimate space of his truck’s cabin.

You talk for hours after that, about nothing and everything. His work and yours, your art, his love of building things, of taking care of things, music and movies and books and Sarah. Always, Sarah. 

“She has an obsession with bats right now, weird kid, and there’s a sanctuary up town. We spent a few hours there on Saturday, she loved it. Scampering around in this Snow White princess dress she’s refused to take off for the past three weeks. Won’t part with the damn thing, not even to let me wash it.”

He loves her so much, and it makes your heart pinch and your eyes go hot and weepy. He is, you think, an exceptionally good father, an exceptionally good man. 

Eventually, however, it gets late enough that the two of you realize you need to get home. He drives you back to the school in the most comfortable of silences, your hand intertwined reassuringly in his strong embrace. It feels worryingly natural, right. 

“Will you let me see you again?” he asks when he pulls up next to your lonely car in the school parking lot. 

“I don’t– I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Joel. This will only go further from here if we continue. And I don’t– I can’t be your–” you frown, shaking your head, disgusted at yourself for even having to say the words, “I can’t be your mistress,” you tell him bluntly.

“I would never, never ask that of you.”

“So, then what is it supposed to be? You’re going to leave your wife? That– that isn’t what I want. I don’t want to be the thing that breaks your marriage up, your family, that leaves Sarah in a broken home. I cannot be that.” It would be your worst nightmare come to life. 

He says your name in the most serious tone you think he can muster, as if he can imbue the understanding of his words into your stubborn skull with the resonance of it, “There is no marriage to break up. She’s leaving soon, I know it, I can tell. She’s done. She’s leaving Sarah, and I don’t think she’s coming back this time. I don’t think I can let her just – just come in and out of our daughter’s life like that. Something needs to stop or change. I have to do something to make this better for my girl.”

“I understand that, and I can’t– I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that for Sarah. For you. Really, I understand more than I can tell you – but still, when it comes to you and I, or you and her – I can’t … I can’t get into that like this. I– I, I don’t–” you pant, “I don’t know. I’m sorry. But I can’t do that, this. Not now.”

“Baby–”

“No, Joel. You don’t understand – I watched my mother cheat on my father my entire childhood, until she up and left us one day, left him. I watched him love her for years, unreturned, suffer for her, and then I watched him kill himself slowly, drink himself to death until I buried him.”

“That isn’t what Eva and I are–”

“I cannot have an affair with you. I know – I know that’s basically what we’re already fucking doing – I know I’m a hypocrite–”

“You’re not–”

“But I can’t also be the reason you leave your marriage. It would kill me – do you understand?” your voice cracks, you’re shocked you’re not crying right now. “Please, Joel.”

He looks at you for a moment, you’re afraid you can see anger in his eyes, but then they go soft, understanding, and he says, “Yeah… yeah, sweetheart. I understand.” Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a shaky breath, relieved, but at the same time, filled with a sick twist of disappointment. What would you do if he pressed you, if he forced you? You know part of you would like it. “Can I at least call you? Only sometimes, please. Just to talk – to hear your voice.”

You start to shake your head, but when you open your eyes and take in the pleading look in his gaze, you can’t say no. “Alright, yes… yes, you can call me. That’s okay.”

“Can I kiss you? Just once more?” You lean over the console and press your lips to his, sudden and rough, as an answer, your teeth clicking together harshly. Of course, you want to kiss him again, of course. 

One long, tight moment, you clutch his wrists to keep them from pulling you in closer, and then you’re pulling back, scrambling out of the truck and forcing yourself away from him. You need to get away before you lose all strength of will and just let him do whatever he wants to you. You hear him get out, as well, and follow you around to your driver’s side door, waiting behind you as you dig for your car keys in your bag. You open the door, and then turn back to him, you can’t help yourself, and he lifts a hand to drag his thumb across your cheekbone, along the edge of your jaw. His eyes look so sad, like he’s afraid this’ll be the last time the two of you ever see each other again. The tears are back and angrily demanding release, but you try and take deep breaths through your nose to keep them at bay while your entire frame shakes and shivers at the restraint. He nods once and leans forward to press a long kiss above your brow, and then he turns and walks back to his truck, gets inside. He waits until you’ve gotten in your own car and are driving away, great heaving sobs wracking your body, overwhelming you, before you see him finally turn his truck on and start to drive back home, back to his wife and child.

Chapter .5

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

End Notes: This was kind of a heavy one, if there’s anything you’d like to chat about (or yell at me for all the angsty bullshit) pls come do so :)

[saphushia]

I would loveeeee to hear your weird creeper hcs 🙏🙏🙏

YES YAY THANK YOU 🌟

okay so i guess first off. i hc silverfish to be larval creepers. that, in addition with a creeper's diet (and silverfish's, of course) consisting of ore, is why creepers explode players. see, when creepers explode, their eggs are embedded in the surrounding terrain. as players often carry ores on them, a creeper managing to explode a player and drop their inventory means the silverfish that hatch are almost guaranteed a very generous meal upon first hatching. after that, silverfish burrow underground to continue eating, and to stay safe until they're ready to metamorphise into creepers

(bonus doc lore at the end of the post 🐐)

creepers emerge from the ground at night because that's when it's generally safest for them to finish the final stages of development and gather their bearings. creepers themselves cannot dig or burrow, so they stay on the surface (or in a cave, if that's where they emerged) for the remainder of their life.

the combustion is the result of a chemical reaction- they store reactive materials in chambers in their body, and when they're released and come into contact with each other it causes an explosion as a side note, creepers can eat meat, but are more scavengers than hunters, and only eat it when it's readily available with little to no risk.

moving onto doc (because i'll never pass up a chance for blorbo talk), his anatomy is somewhat different from a standard creeper due to all the modifications to give him a more 'human' bodyplan and appearance.

his forelegs were originally removed and reattached to act as arms, however his spine and leg joints weren't built for a bipedal upright stance, so it gives him back, knee, and ankle pain to walk like that too much. his retractable robotic forelegs were a later addition he made for himself as a mobility aid to help relieve that pain. because of that he has a slightly more 'taur' like body structure, vs standard creepers whose necks are centered between all 4 legs. originally both his arms had 3 digits each (as they were made by modifying his legs), but when he made his right arm prosthetic he gave it a 5-fingered, more human-like shape for easier manipulation of stuff designed for human use

his combustion chambers were also removed long ago, so he can no longer explode himself (which he doesn't really mind. not big on the whole 'one panic away from exploding himself to death' thing)

he can digest a larger range of food than standard creepers can, but he still needs to eat ores to keep a nutritionally balanced diet. mostly he eats non-mineral foods just because he likes the taste, rather than actual nutritional value. it's recommended not to eat anything he makes for himself, because even if it looks like smth a human can eat, it's probably seasoned with redstone or iron shavings (he is good at making human-safe food, but he has no reason to make his own meals human safe. only eat doc's cooking if you know it's meant to be shared)

his scales are also softer, fading into something more similar to rough skin on a lot of his body. his 'hair' is thicker than a human's but thinner than a creeper's scales- it has almost a quill like texture. he can still 'hiss' by rattling them, but it's a somewhat different pitch than your standard creeper.

he also has a lot of mods on his neck to allow him to speak, and his robotic eye sees far better than a creeper's (slightly above human average, vs creeper eyes which are far below a human average). also a lot of questional brain/head mods to give him a more human appearing face and human-level cognition. his horns however are purely aesthetic.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,191 Words

Summary: Ruin fails. Furrily?

Warnings: Death (mentioned), Near Death (mentioned), Crying, Angst, Shock, Cursing, Trauma, Newborn Kitten Care (aka helping them eat and go to the bathroom), let me know if I should add anything else.

Multiversal Kittening?

"I don't wanna go…" Solar muttered as he felt his body deteriorating, changing, turning into something like dust.

"You don't have to!" Moon insisted, holding onto Solar's arms as they deteriorated and Moon's hands slipped through the air they used to be in as Solar felt darkness fall around him.

Moon stared at where he's slipped through, falling onto his face on the ground as he fell through where Solar had stood and ended him up onto the ground. Moon was hyperventilating still, body shaking as he tried to keep himself together, oil-based tears sliding down his face and staining the blue and silver surface of his faceplate with the clearish-amber tears.

Moon stayed on the ground, not wanting to get up as he heard Sun screaming something, Moon couldn't hear what Sun was saying, everything he heard was ringing, his audio sensors were muffled by something, his processors were buffering, something was wrong. Something was wrong and Moon couldn't move or think or hear.

Moon felt someone touching his shoulder and finally managed to pick his head up to see his twin shaking his arm to get him to respond, shaking Moon out of his shock. Sun was in tears too.

"Moon!" Sun urged his twin back. Moon looked to be in shock on the floor, face down and unmoving. Now that Sun had shaken him, Moon did look like he was recovering a little bit.

"Moon, sit up. Be careful." Sun guided Moon to sit up against the nightstand and Moon gazed at him, tears still not stopping but Sun knew it was better for his brother to just cry than bottle it up.

"Sun…" Moon muttered.

"I'm here. It's okay. Moon, it's okay." Sun told him.

"He's dead." Moon reminded his twin. Nothing was okay. Solar was dead, their brother was dead, Moon's best friend was dead.

"I know." Sun sighed softly. Sun then whipped his head to the side and Moon's head followed, looking at Ruin moving. "Don't you fucking move!" Sun snarled at Ruin.

"I will not. I surrendered." Ruin told them cheerily, sitting on the bed. While Sun was busy glaring at Ruin, Moon felt something against his right leg between his leg and Sun's. Moon looked down at it and saw a tiny little kitten. Did Sun get a new cat?

It looked like a newborn kitten with calico fur with the face half orange on the right and half black on the left with it's body swirled throughout with orange, black, and white fur. Its eyes were still closed, ears still curled and it was wriggling against his leg, bonking his leg softly with its tiny head to get his attention.

The kitten gave a tiny squeak of a meow and rolled on its side as it lost its balance and flopped onto its side on the floor, exposing the black and white belly it had with an Eclipse symbol on its belly. Moon's eyes widened as he saw the symbol. Solar? Was Solar a kitten?

"Moon? Moon!" Sun was looking at Moon again before looking down at the kitten and Sun's eyes widened too. "Solar?" Sun whispered as his hands carefully scooped the tiny kitten into them, cradling him away from the wood floor in his hands. The tiny kitten was so small that he fit into only one of Sun's hands and it squirmed a bit, squeaking and demanding attention and warmth.

"Is that Solar?" Moon asked softly.

"I think so." Sun admitted as he showed the kitten to Moon, whose tears began falling faster again as he looked at the kitten.

"What…?" Ruin muttered, looking over the kitten, who wriggled in Sun's hands as if attempting to get to Moon.

"Moon, he's getting cold and your engine is warmer than mine." Sun told his twin. Moon raised a shaky hand, terrified of hurting him and gently pet Solar's tiny forehead, making the kitten squeak at him with joy. Moon looked at Sun and back to Solar before taking off his hat and gingerly taking Solar out of Sun's hands.

"Good thinking, Moon." Sun told him, helping hold Moon's hat for Moon to safely place Solar in the warm hat. Once Moon had placed him int the hat, Sun wrapped Solar in the hat like a swaddle and gently placed him on Moon's chest so the warmth of Moon's engines would keep Solar warm.

"Be gentle. Not too tight holding him." Sun instructed Moon, placing Moon's hands to hold Solar up against him while Moon sniffled and held Solar as carefully as possible. Solar mewled softly, almost like he was whining.

"He's hungry. Come on. I have some milk for my cats he can have." Sun guided Moon up to his feet and then turned to glare at Ruin. "Don't you dare leave this room!" Sun hissed at him.

"I won't." Ruin agreed and raised his hands. Sun then guided Moon out to the kitchen and got out the kitten milk replacement for Solar and the tiny feeding syringe and nipple he had left over from finding Shadow a couple of months ago now.

Sun cleaned and sanitized the syringe and nipple and mixed together 2.25ml of the milk replacement before he drew the 2.25ml up into the syringe and put the nipple onto it and showed it to Moon.

"Do you want me to show you?" Sun asked.

"Yeah…" Moon admitted.

"Alright, put him on the counter if he feels human temperature." Sun told him. Moon felt over Solar's belly and he did feel warm enough, so moon placed Solar on the counter on a towel that Sun laid out for him.

"You just let him sit on his little butt and you put your thumb and middle fingers under his chin to hold up his head but don't squeeze because you're holding his neck, you're just holding his head up a little bit so he swallows." Sun told Moon as he narrated what he was doing once he unraveled Solar from Moon's hat.

"Then you get the nipple in his mouth and very slowly push down on the plunger. You don't want him aspirating because he's too tiny to cough it back up." Sun told him as he very slowly pushed the plunger and Solar greedily suckled at the nipple on the syringe, making little noises as he did so that Moon thought were adorable.

"I know it's probably going to feel weird, but kittens need help going to the bathroom until they're about a month old, so just use a washcloth and it'll help him go to the bathroom and clean him up." Sun finished feeding Solar and used a clean washcloth to help Solar go to the bathroom, Solar squeaking like a mouse with annoyance the whole time until Sun finished cleaning him off with a warm damp paper towel and a dry one to keep him dry and warm.

Sun rebundled Solar into Moon's hat and settled the kitten back into Moon's arms. Moon cradled him close and Moon watched the wriggling little kitten get comfortable and go to sleep against him, nuzzling against Moon's chest.

[mossgh0st]

By Any Other Name (Jean Kirstein x Reader)

Summary | Jean realizes not all nicknames are bad.

Contents | Fluff, No use of y/n, Eren and Floch are little shits, Mikasa manhandles Eren, snarky!Jean

Pairings | Jean Kirstein/You, Eren/Mikasa

Notes | This was inspired by @fandominfestation‘s post. Header image credit goes to Portgas D. Ace on Pinterest.

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

He hates it.

The snark of Eren Yeager matched only by himself, the holler of his cackle makes Jean Kirstein’s spine stiffen.

What’s worse than his cackle? Only one thing.

“HEYO ~Jean-boy~!” The high pitched whine of Eren’s voice bellows from down the hall. There could not be a worse nickname, coming from a worse person. If he didn’t know better, Jean would say even the bricks lining the walls of Mitras’ capital building shuddered in embarrassment for him. Floch’s (fucking fuck that guy, Jean thinks) stupid laugh follows quickly behind, his wheezing sounding more donkey than human.

He can’t stop the lava-hot anger boiling to the surface, shoulders rising and fists clenching at his sides. Now they’re both laughing, and he wants to deck them both in their stupid, snide faces. Jean turns, eyes narrowed to a slit, “Where’s your bodyguard, Yeager? I don’t see your usual evil brooding shadow.” Smirking, he knows he hit Eren right where it hurts, in his puny runt-sized heart. Fuck it, if he wants to play hardball and mock my mother, I’ll play, he thinks.

Eren short circuits and Floch’s jaw falls open. Before Eren becomes his usual flash of rage induced, uncoordinated, off-balance flurry of flailing limbs, Jean stalks off not quite fast enough to miss the tail end of a devastating loss.

Mikasa grabs him by the collar before he can wind himself up, “Why do you always do this shit?”

Jean smirks to himself. “Oh, hey Mikasa. Didn’t see you there!” He calls.

He’s rounding the corner when Yeager grounds out a retort that’s followed by an “Oof,” where Mikasa yanks his collar a little too hard.

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

Yeager still tries his patience, incessantly. Jean blows him off nowadays, his temper no longer simmering just below the surface. When his pest’s favorite insult doesn’t even make his skin prickle, he knows he’s fucked.

There’s a new factor at play, and Jean’s too preoccupied to care much about Eren being a little prick. All because of you.

It’s not his fault, he thinks. You’re so sweet. If they bottled and sold you as a drink, no one would get enough. It’s in the way you smile, eyes twinkling. How you immediately flush when paid too much attention, or address a group. Your soft voice and desire for the quiet. Jean knows you’re not a pushover, you’ll knock someone on their ass. The difference is in how - with few words spoken and gracefully, swiftly, without hesitation.

So when Jean spends the night in your quarters, warm and wonderfully devoid of the regular scout racket, his mind is far, far away from fucking Yeager and Floch. And, when you beckon him closer in the lamplight, finger under his chin and a glint in your eye; when you whisper “Come here, Jean-boy,” before bringing your mouths together… well, he’s never loved the sound of his own name more. Yeager can eat a bag of dicks, he thinks, right as your lips part and let his tongue explore the softness of you.

With one hand on your waist, the other in your hair, and you on his lap, hands around his neck, he knows for certain that he is absolutely and unequivocally fucked.

Bonus: Eren tries it again and the unintended effect is that Jean gets a raging boner.

[lnnlove]

heat waves | j.m.

based on “heat waves,” by glass animals

summary: regret and angst surround JJ and Y/N after JJ ended their relationship thinking that you would be better off with someone other than him. of course, it's a small island so you can't avoid each other forever, leading to you both having to confront your true feelings.

author’s note: sorry, apparently all I can write are angst fics based on songs but the ideas just keep coming! hope you’re not sick of this and enjoy. also I think this is the most JJ dialogue i’ve ever written, I hope it sounds like him!

word count: 9.7k (sorry, got carried away)

warnings: cursing, slightly smutty (foreplay/lead up), self-deprecation, depression, skipping meals/eating very little, language, marijuana use, fighting, yelling

Sometimes, all I think about is you. Late nights in the middle of June. Heat waves been faking me out. Can't make you happier now.

JJ can’t sleep. There’s a storm raging outside his window but it's nothing compared to the one inside his head. Summer always comes with storms in the South, because when the heat of the days meets a cold front from over the ocean, the heat wave rises and humidity condenses into rain.

He paces around trying to quiet his mind and throws his hat to the ground when he can’t. He flops to his bed with a frustrated grunt, exhaling the deep breath he’s been holding in. You taught him those, but they don’t seem to work anymore.

JJ brings his arms behind his head as he stares to his ceiling, possessed by the lightening flashes in his window, momentarily illuminating the surface above him before returning back to shadows.

The blank stare in his eye deepens as he fixated on the ceiling, remembering how you loved to snuggle up during storms to listen to them. He remembers how your soft skin felt underneath the blanket with him, arms and legs tangled together in a nest of comfort in one another. He remembers how one particularly large clap of thunder could cause a slight jump in you and that he always found it adorable.

“At least now we can spend the rest of the day in bed. Storm rules, I don’t make them up,” he remembers you saying after he would complain about the storm causing him to miss a day of surfing.

When he would hesitate to join you, you would pout momentarily before bursting into begging pleases with a gentle yank of his arm leading him towards your bed. Sometimes he would hesitate on purpose just to trigger this response from you. He loved it. When he finally gave in, a huge smile would spread across your face before kissing him. That smile, he thought. That god damn smile that's burned in to his brain could get him to do anything.

He wishes the memory would warm him up but really, it brings him nothing but pain knowing that he pushed away that one thing that brought him nothing but happiness because he thought you’d be better off with someone other than him.

JJ groans and rolls over to lay on his stomach, taking the pillow in his hands and shoving it over the back of his head, applying pressure - certain that will help drown out the thoughts that are plaguing him tonight.

But nothing helps. And it's been five weeks.

JJ suffers through the restless night, thinking of only you and how he wished he could feel a kiss from you one more time. He desperately wants to cave, give in and call you. He opens his phone, the light illuminating his face in the dark room. He stares at your contact. He wants to apologize and take it all back more than anything. But in his mind, this was the best thing he could do for you. And so, he suffers, closing his phone and tossing it across his room, thinking he was doing you a favor.

If you love someone, you have to let them go, he recited to himself internally from under the pillow. He repeated it over and over in his mind until he was sure that he had done the right thing and at last, finally began drifting off to sleep.

JJ hoped that you were doing better than him. He hoped that he was right, and that you’d find more happiness with someone who could give you more of what you deserved than he could.

But little did he know, less than a mile away, you were in your bed doing the exact same thing.

Usually, I put something on TV. So we never think about you and me. But today, I see our reflections clearly in Hollywood, laying on the screen.

You love rain. You love how it pours down, washing over everything without discrimination. You love how after a rain, the grass is greener and the birds sing and you feel clean.

You are so thankful for the storm outside bringing you at least a little comfort in your bed that night. You haven't had any comfort like this in weeks, since JJ ended things with you.

Your favorite foods don't taste the same. You favorite shows can't make you laugh. The blanket on your bed and the water in your shower doesn't feel the same on your skin. Your bed suddenly feels big and empty with just you in it. Your mom doesn't know how to talk about it with you so she just stares quietly from the door, dropping off meals on your side table and picking up the last one that remains barely touched.

Desperate for a interruption from your persistent ruminating thoughts about not being what JJ wanted, you sit up against your headboard and reach for your remote.

Surely there is something that can distract me from this torture, you think to yourself, flipping through the channels on your screen, desperate for some type of relief.

You settle on a black and white film that you don't recognize. There's something about the grainy picture and muffled sound of old films that you’ve always found comfort in, even if you’re not paying attention to the plot.

But there’s something in the way that the male lead in this movie looks at his best friend in the movie that reminds you of how JJ used to look at you and now you know there’s no use in seeking distraction from movies. It's been five weeks and everything reminds you of him.

With a sigh, you sink back into your bed and roll over, wrapping yourself in your blanket to look out your window. After watching the lightening momentarily illuminate your room, you close your eyes to listen closely to the rain falling on your roof.

And when the thunder rumbles outside, you find comfort in the small rattle it causes in your sternum. This is the first thing you’ve felt deeply in weeks.

Of course, the storm makes you think of all the stormy summer days that you’ve spent with JJ. You can’t help him coming across your mind. He was everything to you, so of course you have your own personal storm of memories flooding your headspace, ending with the stinging pain of remembering how he ended things with you.

You wonder how he is. He’s probably at the Chateau with his friends anyway, probably not giving you a second thought, you think. How naive you are.

Even with that thought swarming in your mind, you feel a serious temptation to call him.

You open your phone, staring at his contact. You can’t bring yourself to delete the photos of him from your phone. It would probably make it easier to get over him, but you’re so scared to never have them again.

You almost do it. You almost press the call button.

He wouldn’t answer, you think. And just like that, the fleeting temptation is gone. You close your phone and set it upside down on your nightstand.

You have the feeling in your throat like you want to cry. But you’ve cried all the tears you had already today, so you’re stuck with that feeling in your throat and no way to relieve it.

You close your eyes and wish for sleep to take you. Maybe if you wish hard enough, it will come.

But when you close your eyes, all you can think about is the look on his face that night.

You just need a better life than this. You need something I can never give.

The text you got from him that night sent you into a panic.

Can I come over? Need to talk.

You tried to push it out of your mind. JJ needed to talk a lot, about all kinds of things. You shouldn't jump to the assumption that it's bad. There hadn't been any signs that he was unhappy in the relationship.

Sure babe! Whenever.

You responded, forcing yourself to act normal.

You swallowed the negative gut feeling you had down and prepared to wait for him to arrive, thinking he would come later in the night and then stay with you. But he was there within 5 minutes, knocking on your front door.

"Hey baby!" you greet him. He's standing with his hands in his pockets, he gives you a soft smile and small nod.

That's weird, you think. He moves inside and passes you as you close the door behind him. You turn around and step closer to where he's standing now. He's not immediately seeking physical connection with you like he normally would, either by snaking his arms around your waist or kissing you when he walked by. You move in to give him a kiss as you wrap your arms around his middle for a hug. He barely returns your kiss, and remains unmoving and tensed in your hug.

You pull your head away with haste, leaving your arms around him as you search his eyes for answers only inches away.

“What's wrong baby?" you question him.

He just stares down at you with hardened eyes, brows furrowed as he focuses on your expression twisting into concern.

Fuck, he thinks, this is going to be hard.

"JJ, please tell me what's going on," you beg him, stress building inside you at his prolonged silence and apathetic body language.

It seems to you like he's standing there, careless and completely indifferent to the concern he's causing you. But what you don't know is that he's in his mind screaming at himself to keep his resolve and act like he doesn't care when his first instinct is to rush and wrap you in his arms planting kisses all over your beautiful face to get that look off of it. He's a good actor.

"I've been thinking," he finally speaks, "And..."

"And?" you question.

"And I don't think we're right together, Y/N."

You pull away from him and step back, collapsing into yourself. You hear him continuing, but you don't understand the words. You can see his lips moving, talking at you but you don't comprehend the string of words that are blending together as everything around you goes quiet and your vision begins to blur with tears. Your wrap your arms around yourself to try and find comfort as he stands in front of you, just inches away but he's never felt farther.

You return to the moment and swallow the lump in your throat, wiping the tears at your eyes.

"No," you beg him, lifting your eyes to meet his. It's all you can say. What could have possibly changed since the last time you saw him to cause this? you think.

God damn, she's so stubborn, he curses internally. He didn't expect you to put up such a fight for someone like him.

"You deserve better than what I can give you Y/N," he presses you to see reason.

"What do you mean JJ? I don't understand," you plead between your continuing tears.

"I mean," he pulls his head away from you, dropping it into his hands with frustration, "that I'm not good enough for you."

"Of course you are," you take a step forward with an outstretched arm to try and comfort him, "where is this coming from?"

He jerks away from your efforts.

"Damn it, Y/N, why do you have to make this harder?"

"You think I'm just going to let you break up with me for something as stupid as this?"

"It's not stupid!" he yells. Exasperated, he stares at you with a look you've never seen on his face. Hurt, shame, embarrassment, and also anger all at once.

"You need someone who can take care of you! You need someone who can take you out whenever you want and buy you fancy dinners and dresses and jewelry. And take you to see the world like you've always talked about. And someone who can give you a comfortable home and life and everything that I can't give you!"

"JJ, what have I done to make you think that? You can take care of me! And I don't care about any of that stuff. Why don't you let me make that decision for myself?"

"You don't know any better," he says with a short tone.

"Excuse me?" you ask, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. You're offended now, "do you really think I am so small minded that I don't know what's good for me? Did how I feel about this ever even occur to you?"

He doesn't answer. You start again.

"JJ, YOU are what makes me the happiest. Even when you're acting like this, I still want you. I do feel like you can take care of me and build us a home together. If you think I'll be happier without you, you're crazy."

This isn't working, he thinks to himself. He rushes to figure out how he can convince you. What will he have to say? Unfortunately, that leaves you with the perfect amount of time to jump to conclusions. And it gives him the perfect opportunity.

"If you don't want to be with me, just say that. Don't pull this noble 'I'm saving you' bullshit," you mock him with air quotes, fighting now.

"Fine," he says, exhaling his anger and bracing to hurt you now. This is the only way you'll accept it.

"I don't want you anymore," he lies. Of course you're what he wants for the rest of his life, but he can't be selfish, he has to stay on task. This may be the hardest thing he's ever had to do, hurting the person he loves the most in the world.

"Okay then," you whisper with a nod, now fully understanding what this was about. Or so you thought. You begin to cry, breaking your eye contact with him and looking for anything in the room to focus on other than him.

For a moment, JJ falters when he sees what he’s done.

“Y/N wait,” he begins, taking a step forward with a hand outstretched to touch you, but you step to the side away from him. You walk towards your door and open it.

“Just go, please,” you say quietly, standing by the door and using it to block half of your body. JJ doesn’t see that the part of your body that’s hidden is leaning on the door to keep you standing.

He takes one last look at you through furrowed brows and sorry eyes. He wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. Probably that he loves you and that’s why he’s doing this, but of course you wouldn’t believe him.

JJ breaks his gaze from you and opens the glass door that remains in his way. His heart is breaking. His brain is yelling at him to stop, turn around and take it back, but his feet somehow keep carrying him forward.

The glass door is not even closed behind him when your knees fail you and you collapse to the ground in tears. You had been holding it in so well for too long and the audible pain you’re experiencing escapes you.

JJ turns around and sees you through the glass door, on your knees and sobbing into your hands.

He thought lying to you was the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he was wrong. He lies all the time. Standing there seeing you breaking like that and not rushing back to you to it all back is the hardest thing he's ever done.

You can't fight it, you can't breathe. You say something so loving, but now I gotta let you go. You'll be better off with someone new.

There’s a gentle knock on your bedroom door that pulls you from your book. And for a moment you think maybe it could be JJ. But you remember the pattern with which he used to knock and know it couldn’t be him.

Your door barely opens and you hear your mom call to you.

“Hey honey,” she says as she peeks inside to make sure you’re awake, then she opens it fully and enters.

You’re sitting on your bed, reading your tenth book in the six weeks since JJ broke up with you. You haven’t been doing much else at all. Your mom approaches your bed and sits on the side of it facing you.

“Hey mom,” you say quietly with a small smile, moving your bookmark into place and setting the book down in your lap.

“How are you today baby?” she asks.

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. It’s not a total lie. You have good days and you have bad days. You haven’t cried today which is always a small victory.

“I’m worried your wasting your summer away cooped up in here, Y/N. It’s already June and you’ll be back to school before you know it.”

You’re a little shocked by your mom’s words. She hasn’t acknowledged the break up or your behavior since very much. She’s mostly kept her distance and let you be, not forcing you to talk about anything. She’s even let you get away with stealing her wine and liquor, which you know she must have noticed by now.

“I just don’t have much else to do mom,” you respond with a defeated gesture. You’ve gotten out to go on a few walks in the last two weeks, but there’s too many spots on the island where he could be and so you avoid them all together for fear of seeing him. That doesn’t leave too many places to go.

“What about your friends baby?” she asks.

In truth, you grew apart from most of your friends when you started dating JJ a year ago. You spent so much time with him that you started seeing less and less of them, and you couldn’t blame them for being mad about that now. Of course you also had the pogues when you were dating JJ, but after your connection to them was severed, you haven’t kept up really. They were JJ’s friends first.

“I don’t really have any anymore,” you mutter, “not since…” you trail off. She knows what you mean.

“Well, that’s not true,” your mom cuts in.

“Yes it is mom,” you insist.

“I saw Sarah at the grocery store today and she asked me about you. She seemed very concerned.”

You don’t say anything, but your look must have told her to go on. You’re not sure you want to know what she told her about how you’re doing.

“I said you’ve been better,” she says jokingly. It does make you laugh a little. “Then she begged me to tell you about her birthday party tonight. She sounded like she really wanted you to come.”

Your attention was peaked and you raised your head to meet your mom's eyes. The excitement is fleeting though, and it dies down when you think about seeing JJ there.

"I don't know mom," you whisper, "what if he's there?"

"Who cares if he's there?" she shouts. "Show him that he hasn't broken you baby," she tries to empower you. She's always been very good at this part, being your friend. She had you at a young age and remembers what it was like.

"But," you start. "He has mom."

"I still see my same Y/N," she says. "And life goes by too fast for you to spend all this time in your room avoiding him just because he's stupid."

You contemplate her words. She tries again.

"Are you really going let him take away your summer like this? All these nights you could be spending with friends or making new friends? I simply won't let you spend another night in here wasting your youth. You'll be grown up before you know it," she lectures.

You know she's right. All she talks about it how fast she grew up and how you shouldn't wish your life away. But all you can think about is growing up and getting off the island. Going somewhere for college or maybe not and just moving somewhere to reinvent yourself.

Her words register with you. She was hoping to make you mad and she thinks it worked.

You exhale the breath you were holding in with a huff. No, no you won't let him take your summer from you. If the party was on Figure 8, you were sure he probably wouldn't be there anyway.

You lean in to hug your mom, throwing your arms around her neck and say "Okay, I'll go," while in her embrace.

She pulls away with a smile and says "That's my girl. Now let's pick an outfit!"

Your mom got you out of bed and helped you choose an outfit. She played music and made sure your spirits were high before you walked out of the door. She always talked about how she wasn't a good mom, but she was exactly the one you needed, especially in that moment when you needed a friend.

Of course, the confidence and excitement you were feeling with her died the second you turned your bike out of your driveway and were alone again.

The loneliness set back in and the pit in your stomach grew bigger and bigger until you considered turning back around and telling your mom you'd rather stay in with her all night. Sarah wouldn't miss you that much anyway, you thought.

Luckily, you prepared for this feeling and pulled your bike off as you passed an entrance to the beach on Figure 8. JJ definitely wouldn't be here of all places.

You leave your bike momentarily at the entrance, and make your way down to the beach. You find an empty spot close to the surf and sit down, thankful that the beach tends to empty after sunset.

You reach into your pocket and retrieve the joint you had rolled for yourself earlier that day and a lighter, silently thanking your past self. Like second nature, you stick it between your lips and light the end, inhaling the first hit and holding it in your lungs for a few moments before exhaling the smoke, closing your eyes to let the immediate comfort it brings you set in.

At least some feelings never change, you think, taking solace in the familiar feeling of the high taking over.

You take a few more draws from it while you listen to the crashing waves before putting it out in the sand and saving the other half for later, certain that you'll either need it or it will be an easy way to make friends at the party.

You make it back to your bike and hop on, finishing your ride to the party much more relaxed now.

Sarah’s house is full of people that spill out and litter the front and back yards. You enter through the opened front door, hearing the music blasting from the threshold. You wade through the crowd of familiar faces, offering a soft smile or small greeting to everyone you pass. It seems they’re not as mad at you as you thought which gives you more confidence to be there.

Finally, you make it to the kitchen to secure a drink, quickly combining a rough pour of vodka and orange juice to get you started quickly. When you turn the corner into the next room, you see a group of girls from school and move to speak to them.

You are welcomed into the group after some small talk and stand with them in a comfortable corner of the room. You pay attention to their conversation, relying on them mostly to carry it while you contribute here and there. The safety of the corner allows you to see around the room, watching everyone talking, singing, dancing, drinking, laughing. You missed this.

As you scanned the room, you finally spot Sarah several people over. You smile when you see her, having missed her friendship so much these last six weeks. When your eyes continue on their path, they suddenly fall on the group around her.

Pope, Kie, John B…. and JJ.

Just when you realize that he’s there and the sinking feeling returns to your stomach, Sarah looks away from the people she was talking with and meets your eyes. Her expression does not match the concerned one that begins to take over your features.

She smiles and waves at you. You muster up a small smile and return her wave.

She beckons you, asking for you to come to her.

Your eyes widen and glance to her left, signaling JJ’s presence. You give her a begging shake of your head and beckon her in your direction.

She looks to her left and realizes the meaning of your unspoken language. She slowly returns her head to face you and mouths “Ohhh.”

You laugh at her silly drunkenness while she makes her way over to you.

“Y/N!” she sings with a gleeful tone as she approaches you and pulls you slightly away from your group.

“Hey Sarah,” you say as she wraps her arms around your neck in a hug, “happy birthday.”

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you,” she says next to you, continuing her hug.

“Kie and I both have,” she adds while pulling away to see you.

“I’ve missed you both too,” you return and an awkward silence falls over you two for a moment as you both decide not to bring up the reason you’ve been separated.

“Well I’m really glad you’re here now,” she says, linking your arms together, “we'll have to catch up while you’re here and you can’t go back in to hiding after this.”

“I’m working on it,” you say bashfully, finding comfort from talking about this with a friend. You considered Sarah one of your closest friends after joining their group. She has a way about her that makes you feel instantly comfortable and like you’ve known her forever. That must be why there were so many people here for her birthday, everyone loves her because she makes everyone feel loved.

Which is exactly why someone else approached her as you talked, pulling her away from your conversation.

She looked back to you and said “we’ll talk more later,” while being pulled away by the next guest wanting her attention. You nodded to assure her that you were alright being left alone. You returned to the group you were talking with and retreated back into your corner, able to keep an eye on all the guests to make sure one in particular didn’t surprise you.

You stayed there for what felt like an hour but could have been just minutes listening to the party around you. Everyone talking over the music and laughing at each other’s jokes, having a good time. Why did it seem like everyone could have a good time except you? It seemed like everything you used to be able to talk about had been wiped from your memory and you didn’t know how to contribute anymore. All you could do was stand there paralyzed, watching your peers enjoy life, moving on and growing without you.

Including JJ.

You couldn’t help but watch him when he was so close, laughing with his friends, joking with the people around him, passing through the crowd with effortless motion, completely weightless and smiling like there was nothing burdening him.

It made you lose your breath.

He’s totally fine, you think, trying to decide why you thought he would be anything else since he was the one to end it. You struggled to keep a full breath of air in your lungs as your chest began to rise and fall very quickly when the memory of him telling you that he didn’t want you anymore resurfaced.

Of course he doesn’t, your brain attacks you. Why would he want you when he could have any girl here?

You could see there weren’t any girls flirting with him, but your mind betrayed you by planting those toxic intrusive thoughts and then it was all you could think. Seeing him acting as if he couldn’t be happier convinced you that he never cared at all, that he was enjoying this newfound freedom even.

You excuse yourself from the group you were standing with and begin walking away, desperately needing to remove yourself from where you could see him so clearly. With no idea where you were headed and legs barely able to put one in front of the other, you had to stop to try and catch your shallow breath. You placed your drink on a table and brought your hand to your chest to try and steady your breathing.

When you pull your head up from where it was hanging between your shoulders, you instinctively look in his direction to see if he’s noticed you. You regret that.

JJ pulls his eyes away from Pope and meet yours across the room. The smile on his face falls from his lips, and light begins to leave his eyes. Of course he’s disappointed to see you, you think.

You hold his gaze long enough to see his eyes soften towards you and your chest starts to rise and fall rapidly again, heart beat quickening and breath hitching in your throat. Your panic is visible to him as you bring your hand to your chest once again to stop the sting you’re feeling in your heart.

Your flight response finally takes over, and without control you turn away from him to flee as fast as you can in your panicked state.

As you navigate slowly through the crowd, excusing yourself to every one you pass, you hear several muffled words faintly behind you and realize he is trying to get to you.

“Sorry, coming through,” you hear his voice behind you for the first time in weeks. Knowing that he’s following you, you pick up your pace, desperate for a way to escape him. Lost in the big house and crowd of people, you settle on a hall closet, jogging to the door as you feel his presence closing in on you. You open the door and rush in, turning around once inside to brace yourself against the door.

JJ gets to the door within seconds.

"Y/N, open the door," he begs you on the other side of the wooden barrier. You silently refuse, tears welling in your eyes at the sound of his voice.

JJ continued banging on it harshly and begging you to open the door. He tried opening it himself, but you hold the knob, using all of your strength to keep it closed against him. But you don’t have much strength to give. And he's stronger than your strongest.

You give up, retreating to the back of the small room, placing your back against the wall and sliding down to the floor with your knees in front of you to guard yourself from him, leaning your head against the wall behind you to try and regain your breath.

He invades.

The two of you have been in this closet before, under vastly different circumstances. The memory on both of your minds is obvious, creating a thick air of tension, but neither of you will mention it.

He catches one look of you crying against the wall and turns to face the door, leaving his back to you. He props his forehead against the door to ground him.

"What are you doing?" you question his odd movements, breaking the silence that hovered between you since he entered.

"Trying to give you some privacy," he responds.

"Why did you follow me in here then?" you plead between breaths.

Silence falls over you both again when he realizes his contradicting actions. He begins to gently tap his forehead repeatedly on the door.

“You’ve got to get over me, Y/N,” he exhales in a whisper.

You let out a sarcastic laugh at this.

“Yeah sure, I’ll get right on that. You got any tips? Seems to be working quite well for you,” you scoff.

"I just want to help," he says, ignoring your insinuation and thus confirming it further to you.

"You can't help when you're the cause, JJ."

That breaks him.

He turns to face you, taking the few steps that keep you distanced from him and crouches in front of you, eye level with you now.

"I don't mean to be, Y/N," he asserts, holding eye contact.

"What do you mean to do then, JJ? You can't just end things with me, act like you don't care and then follow me into a closet trying to comfort me again. It's confusing, J."

"You think I don't care?"

"What am I supposed to think when I see you out there just living your life unfazed by this, completely unbothered by not being with me? It's like you don't even remember how good we had it, and now we don't.”

A pang of harsh silence falls between you in the dim room.

"It does bother me,” he tries.

“Please go JJ, this hurts too much,” you ignore him.

“I can’t leave you like this,” JJ whispers.

“JJ, it’s too hard for me to have you so close in front of me like this when I can’t reach out and have you,” you sniffle out.

Those words hurt him. He silently stares at you. He’s thinking about it right now. He’s thinking about going back to how it was, just kissing you now and apologizing. He knows you’d take him back.

“Please,” you beg.

He stands and backs away now, having seen the pain he’s caused you. He could never make you happy again, now that he’s done this.

He knows one day you’ll be happy again, it will just take time and he’ll have to fight every urge to comfort you.

JJ walks to the door and pauses to utter “I’m sorry,” before gently opening the door and leaving you in the closet.

I don't wanna be alone. You know it hurts me too. You look so broken when you cry. One more and then I say goodbye.

It's been 6 days since you saw JJ at Sarah's party and one thing he said has been hanging in your mind since then.

"It does bother me."

You ignored him when he first said it, hopelessly refusing to believe him and just wanting him to leave you so that you could think again.

But since then, the words have lingered in your mind, dwelling on the words falling out of his mouth and how you dismissed it. Who knows where your conversation could have? And that "what if" has been tormenting you for days.

And that is exactly what brought you to tears that night, sitting alone again in your bed, crying over the loss of this same boy. You are starting to feel pathetic now, but how can you just move on when you had made so many plans with him? When you hadn't been prepared or even slightly seen it coming? You were completely blindsided.

That pathetic feeling you had for yourself quickly turned to apathy. You didn't care that you were still hung up on him because who was even around you to notice? And that apathy became rapidly dangerous as your sobs subsided for a brief moment and the tears cleared from your eye for long enough for you to see yourself pulling up JJ's contact in your phone.

I'm calling him, you thought. Your desperation and lack of pride becoming weaponized against you. You didn't care if he knew you missed him and needed him, he's the one person in the world you have shared your most vulnerable thoughts with. He's seen the deepest and most secret parts of you. You don't care if he sees that you're broken without him. He already saw you the other night.

You stare at his contact for several moments as you contemplated calling him. Your thumb hovers over the call button until you think fuck it, before you can talk yourself out of it.

Shamelessly, you press the button and swallow the growing nausea in your stomach as the phone rings.

JJ has been mentally kicking himself since he walked out of the closet leaving you the other night. He can't believe he let himself do that, abandoning you in that state.

Of course, he thinks he's doing what's right for you and so he lets himself suffer as he continues his internal battle of strengthening his resolve to let you go and giving in to his truly overwhelming feelings for you.

So when his phone rings and he sees your name on his screen for the first time in weeks, he hesitates to answer, unsure if this would end well.

After five rings, you're certain he won't answer.

Until in the middle of the sixth and final phone chime, he scrambles to slide the button and presses the phone to his ear before he misses his chance.

"Hello?" he answers. It sends an ache to your swelling heart and causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach at the same time.

Idiot, he thinks to himself, why did answer like you didn't know who it was. He squints his face and pulls at his hair in frustration, convincing himself there would have been something better to say as if that was the most normal way to answer the phone.

"Hey," you let out after holding your breath. You sniffle after saying it and thought it was quiet enough.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he jumps to conclusions hearing your stifling your cry, panic evident in his tone.

“Um,” you consider, “that’s a loaded question.” Physically you were fine, but you don’t think you could say you’ve been “okay” in weeks.

“Well, what’s going on? Has something happened?” he asks, trying to find out why you’ve called him.

“No, I just…” you trail off, unsure of what you planned on saying, “I just…. would you come over?” you blurt out.

JJ is silent for a few seconds, trying to suppress the immediate urge he feels to rush to you.

“I don’t know, Y/N… do you think that’s a good idea?”

The rejection of his response stings and the tears come rushing back to you. They spill over your eyelids and you can’t conceal the sound of your cries to the boy on the other side of the phone.

“Please J,” he hears you cry. “I just really don’t want to be alone,” you beg as you realize the true reason behind calling him. You couldn’t stand the solitude of heartbreak any longer. You needed a break from it even just for one night.

His heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. You voice is shaking in his ear and he can’t fight his instincts to be there for you any longer. He brings a hand behind his head and looks to his feet while holding the phone to his ear. He closes his eyes for a moment and accepts that this will fuck everything up, but he has to go to you.

“Okay,” he breaks, “I’m coming Y/N, I’ll be there.” And he hangs up the phone.

You try you best to subdue your crying before he gets there so that you don’t look like a total mess when he arrives, but your cries have been lasting longer than usual these last few weeks now that you have something to truly be sad about.

Ten minutes later, JJ arrives at your house and notices your mom's car is not in the driveway. Somewhat relieved that he won't have to face the disappointment of the woman that's treated him like her own son, he makes his way to the door.

He doesn't knock, he opens it and walks in like it's second nature to him. It is, really.

"Y/N?" he calls out.

He scans the living room for you and when he sees you're not there, he picks up his pace to the back of your house where your room is, knowing that's where you'd be. His nerves build in his stomach as he prepares to see you.

"Y/N?" he says as he opens your door without knocking.

You're sitting in your bed with you back against your headboard while you take in the sight of him there in your room again. He's in shorts and long sleeve t-shirt. The two of you stay like that for a few moments before saying anything.

JJ removes his hat and bends the bill of it between his hands, his nervous tick.

You're so tired of crying. You long for the day that you'll have no tears left to cry for him, but seeing him standing there with that concerned look on his face caused them to well again and stream out over your cheeks. You are the first to break eye contact in a vain effort to hide your whimpering from him, but he sees you.

At the sight, JJ drops his hat to the floor and moves to you. He doesn’t see the light that used to reflect in your eyes, or the big fun loving personality that he fell for. He climbs into his spot on your bed and takes you in his arms.

You melt into his embrace, this being the first time you’ve felt his warm touch in almost seven weeks.

JJ has to hold back a gasp at how frail you feel in his arms, having noticeably shrunken into yourself. He almost doesn’t recognize you from the sadness in your face, eyes and cheeks swollen and the tan fading from your skin from the lack of time spent in the sun. You’re a shadow of the person you once were.

He holds you while you cry into his chest, one arm wrapped around his neck to hold yourself in place and the other gripping the material of his shirt on his side. You want to hold on him so tight that he couldn’t leave even if he tried.

You had missed his embrace more than you realized and you savored it while he was there. His presence has such an effect of you that your breath begins to slow back down and you can hear his heartbeat through his shirt where your head is against him when your sniffling stops. You breathe in his familiar scent and smile slightly when you realize it will linger on your pillow and blanket that it’s escaped from during the weeks of his absence. His company has restored your calm and you finally wipe the last tears from your eyes.

"There we go," JJ coos into the top of your head when he realizes that you've stopped crying.

You lift your head to look at him, meeting his gaze and offer him a coy smile, showing slight embarrassment.

"I'm really glad that you're here," you admit.

JJ can't help himself. He takes your face in both of his hands to look closer at your swollen cheeks and puffy red eyes with a worried frown, assessing the damage he's done to you.

You can't help yourself either when he's holding your face like this. You've been missing him so much, down to the deepest part of you. If you'd known your last kiss would have been your last kiss, you would have leaned in just a little bit closer, held it just a little longer, cherished it just a little bit more.

And so, you think fuck it and boldly kiss him. You lean in the few inches that separate you from him and press your lips to his while he continues to hold either side of your face. Your hands are desperately grabbing at his chest and neck, searching for a way to keep close to him as he kisses you back. His soft familiar lips move in perfect rhythm with yours and you accept his tongue as it grazes against your lips and into your mouth to meet yours.

After a few seconds of savoring the feeling of his kiss that you'd missed so badly, you can't help but think he’s not kissing me like someone who doesn’t want me.

And just as if he could hear your thought, JJ pulls away, breaking your kiss.

"Y/N, we can’t do this." JJ keeps one hand in its place cupping your cheek and holding the back of your neck, but he drops the other to rest over the one you have rested on his chest.

"Why not?" you ask, pleading with your foreheads together.

"It's not right," he answers in a whisper.

"Since when have you cared about what's right?" you argue, lifting your head from where he was holding you in place so that you could look him in the eyes.

"I've always cared about what's right when it comes to you!" JJ shouts back, hurt by your insinuation.

You choose to ignore that statement. If he cared about what was right when it came to you, he would have never broken up with you.

You sit in silence for a few seconds, turning your head to break his stare, only the sound of your heavy breaths filling the room. You can't understand why he always insists on fighting you.

You turn back to face him, reaching out to place one hand on each of his shoulders, willing him to look at you. His body is aligned with yours, but he drops his head to the side to avoid your gaze.

"JJ, please," you state plainly, "I just want to feel something good." You have no trouble stating your needs. "I have been feeling so bad for so long and I just..."

He lifts his head and brings his eyes to meet yours, tears welling in them. They're looking softer and bluer than you've ever seen them. He stays silent, not protesting, and you take this as a sign to continue.

"And I just think..." you pick back up, "that if I knew it was our last time," you pause, "that I could move on easier afterward than I can with where we are now."

He says nothing, just looks at you. You can see the thoughts swirling in his head, see him deciding what he's going to do. It's so embarrassing for you to be putting yourself out there like this and him torturing you with no response. But you decide not to be embarrassed. It's JJ.

"If it's true that you don't want me anymore, then fine. You can leave right now and at least I'll know that you really mean that," you stop, waiting for a reaction. "But if even a little part of you wants me, even just a tiny bit..." you say, "let's just have this one more night together and at least we'll know it's the last one and we'll have closure." You squeeze your hands on his shoulders with searching eyes and a small faked smile, indicating you're done and it's time for him to decide.

JJ doesn't say anything.

He darts his hands to either side of your waist, lifting you and moving you to lay back on your bed. He lets out a deep exhale and brings his face to yours, kissing you fiercely. You relish in the feeling it gives you, moving your hands from his shoulders to be wrapped around his neck, fingers teasing through his golden hair, holding him closer and closer to you.

"Oh, baby," he moans against your lips, his hands tightening their grip on your waist and hip where he's holding you to the bed, "I want you so bad." That's him, your old JJ, returned to you, even if it's just for tonight.

"I want you JJ," you moan back. He breaks away to trail kisses down your cheek, along your jaw, to your neck and then to his favorite spot behind your ear. You run your fingers under the back of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his back and he raises from you momentarily to remove his shirt. He returns to his place at your neck while working his hand under the hem of your shirt to grasp at your bare chest for a few moments before moving his hand down along your skin to slip under the waistband of your shorts. You lift your hips to grind against his fingers. As he teases you, you stifle gasps and moans long enough to bring your lips to his ear and say "I want everything one more time, J," before you fully release yourself into the hold he has on you.

You feel his hand extract from you momentarily before a strong grasp tugs on your waistband to remove the layers that concealed you from him. JJ brings his left arm up to hold your hands above your head and with the other, he held your jaw gently between his thumb and pointer finger to look you in your eyes. He grazed his thumb over your swollen lips.

"I would do anything for you," he breaths out before kissing you hard on the mouth and continuing his work on your body.

I just wonder what you're dreaming of when you sleep and smile so comfortable. I just wish that I could give you that, that look that's perfectly un-sad.

JJ lay awake, his breathing only just recently returning to his normal pace. He had one arm tucked under his head and the other around you, clutching your sleeping form to his bare chest. You had one arm draped lazily over his middle, your sleepy fingers tickling his skin. How could he sleep after what just happened?

He didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep again. How could he live with himself?

He had one job. Break up with you and let you go. But that look on your face as you pleaded for him. How could he resist that? And he believed you. That you just needed him one more time before moving on.

JJ silently cursed himself, careful not to wake you. He had to savor the moment before you woke up.

JJ looked down at you sleeping silently next to him. He memorized the way your chest felt rising away from and falling into his side as you breathed. He shifted so that your head fell from his chest to the pillow beneath and he rolled on his side to face you. He felt your heavy exhaled breath flutter across his face.

Your hair had fallen into your face during the shift, so he lifted a hand to brush it out of your face.

JJ thought you looked so happy when you were asleep and wondered what you must be dreaming of. The smallest sweet smile apparent in your lips crushed him as he thought how he'd never be able to show you true peace like this.

He wished that he could be the reason for your smile instead of what you must have been dreaming about. Suddenly, JJ felt wrong to be there, intruding on you, invading your privacy. He felt he had to leave now before you could wake up and regret what you'd both done.

He shifted to lay on his back and exhaled a deep breath with a sigh before he made his move to leave. He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around for the rest of his clothes before silently standing.

He thought he would be able to get out unnoticed and slip away before having to have a difficult conversation. But the stirring and sudden absence next to you woke you.

Sometimes, all I think about is you. Late nights in the middle of June.

You stirred awake and reached for JJ but gasped when you saw JJ was gone from his place in your bed.

JJ froze in his place standing in your room, his shirt in hand. He watched you realize that he wasn't there. You shifted in your bed to sit up when you noticed JJ standing in front of you. He'd been getting dressed.

"JJ no! Don't you dare walk out of here," you raise your voice at him from your bed, tears threatening to flood your eyes.

"You said - " he shouts, an arm extended out in front of him in frustration.

"I don't care what I said!" you interrupt him. And you're not lying, you didn't care. "I care about what you said."

"What do you mean what I said?" JJ shouts.

"You SAID that you would do anything for me," you begin, "please explain to me how you could say something like that but not want to be with me?"

"Y/N, I really don't want to talk about it."

"No! We are going to talk about it JJ," you shout. "There is clearly something wrong! There's something you're not telling me."

"I'M wrong!" JJ seethes, throwing his shirt across your room in frustration.

"I - "

"No now you shut up!" JJ insisted, "if you're going to force me to talk, then you listen."

You blinked at him in disbelief. He's never talked to you that way.

"I am wrong for you, Y/N," he tries to say calmly, "I was laying there awake watching you smile in your sleep, thinking about how I can't give you that happiness."

Angry now, you scream "Are you delusional?!"

JJ starts to object but you cut him off.

"How can you be so blind and not see that I was happy tonight because you were here? And how are you SO SURE that I would just get over you like it’s that simple to me?"

JJ is silent.

"You mean to tell me that you've put me through this for months based on your delusional opinion that you're not good enough for me?" you can't help the tears that fall from your eyes now.

"Y/N, it's what's best for you."

"When will you trust me enough to let ME decide what's best for myself?" you shout.

JJ attempts to respond, but you continue shouting. JJ does too, both of you yelling from your spots in the room, arms flailing in an attempt to prove your points but with you both arguing at once, neither of you are listening.

You both settle down now that you've gotten your frustrations out through shouts. You're a little grateful JJ was yelling over you because you're really not sure of what you said.

"Can I go now?" you say chuckling quietly, asking for permission to continue. JJ nods and makes his way to sit on the bed with you.

"You do need to understand that I can judge what's best for myself," you start, "but also..." you reach your hand out to JJ's face, turning his head with your palm so that he will look at you when you say this.

"I need you to understand," you pause, trying to find the right words. "That your situation.... is not your fault. And you are worthy of my love regardless, and anyone's love for that matter." You're firm with your words. Even if he won't love you back the way you want, at least he'll walk away from this conversation having heard that.

JJ let your words wash over him. He closed his eyes and exhaled the breath that he was holding in. You saw his brow begin to furrow and you hoped that his silence meant he was listening to what you said.

He began to lean towards you and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him in to rest against your chest.

You sat in silence for a few moments while you thought of what to do. You had one arm around JJ's back, and the other running through his hair, something you knew always calmed him down.

"I don't want to sit here and convince you to be with me," you trailed off, although you weren't too proud to beg.

"You don't have to do that at all, Y/N," JJ cut in.

"But..... let me just ask you this."

JJ lifted his chin, signaling for you to continue.

"Stop thinking about what you think is best for me for one minute."

He nodded.

"And tell me what you want. What do you want?"

JJ sat up from where you were holding him and looked at you for a few seconds. He smiled at you so sweetly that you thought you might burst.

And he said "To be with you. More than anything I've ever wanted."

You closed your eyes and let out the breath you were holding in, bringing your hands to your stomach to combat the swirling feeling you were having inside. It felt so good to hear him say that. A smile spread across your lips as a few tears streamed down your cheeks.

JJ leaned in to you after wiping a few tears of his own. He brought his hands to either side of your face, swiping at the tears that littered your cheeks with his thumb.

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze.

"Then be with me," you requested with a sweet laugh and slight shake of your head, "please." It really was that simple to you.

Then JJ crashed in to you, enveloping you in a tight hug with both of his arms wrapped around your neck. "Okay," he whispered into your neck where he was nuzzled.

He pulled back to look at you.

"If you insist," he grinned. It earned him a laugh from you. How he had missed that.

JJ interrupted your laugh by kissing you again. It was a long and desperate kiss. And after, he followed it with several short pecks, "mwah, mwah, mwah," he said in between. As if making up for lost time.

"'I'm sorry for all of the things I said," JJ admitted.

"I am too," you added. "Just talk to me about it next time?" you requested with a laugh.

"I will," he promised.

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter sixteen lmao)

He can't do this by himself. There was far too much ground to cover and far too little time. Every second that ticked by was another that the hatchling could be mauled.

“I lost the hatchling,” Guilt laced his voice as absolute mayhem broke out throughout the bond. Everyone was talking all at once, pelting questions at him.

“How could you lose him?!” Damian had no excuse. He should have paid closer attention. Something precious was entrusted to him and he'd squandered it. This was a failure he’ll have to carry with him for the rest of his life.

“Hold on, I'll be there in a minute,” Dick said, Damian made no protest.

Damian continued his search of the shallows, attempting to shove himself into caves, making as much noise as possible to lure the child into inspecting. If there was one thing he’s learned about the hatchling while watching him, it was that he’s territorial and curious.

Mere minutes passed before his brother was at his side.

“Is he dead? What do you mean you lost him?”

“I don’t know! He just vanished!”

Dick circled the shallows, nose pointed towards the surface. “I don’t smell blood,”

The hatchling’s blood had a distinct copper smell, that along with its deep red hue made it disturbingly easy to find corpses. He couldn’t be far, they'd find him soon. Even the tiniest of cuts would alert them of his presence. All they had to do was search.

“I think I found him!” Dick called out, his excitement killed by the painful-sounding wheeze of a Crashfish shooting out of its plant. The elder recoiled, thrashing backward, trying his best to avoid the explosive charging straight for him.

He failed, the blast spreading soot against the pale blue of his scales. The sudden explosion paired with the static electricity radiating off his body, resulted in a pained shriek from his brother. His own electricity damaged him, the stress causing jolts of electricity to shoot off him in response. His body seized, tail thrashing through the water, kicking massive clouds of sand up.

A frazzled expression rested on his brother's face, hand swiping at a threat that didn’t exist anymore. In any other situation, he might’ve found this hilarious, but now it was just a waste of precious time.

Precious time that could be used to find the-

“Go wAy”

It was faint, but hidden within the base of a creep vine stalk was the hatchling. The vines curled around the child’s body, tiny fingers curled around the handle of a blade almost bigger than his entire forearm. Odd, the hatchling would have come charging up to attack them but instead, the hatching nestled himself deeper in the vine, seemingly unaware of his detection. Kyanite blue eyes darted between him and Dick, eyes lingering on the elder. Apparently, Dick didn’t feel the wariness radiating off the hatchling in consistent waves of anxiety. If he did, maybe he would've refrained from squealing like Crabsnake and rushing towards the guppy.

“He’s so little!” The elder squealed, making grabby hand at the hatchling who held the blade out in warning. The hatchling wasn't the type to give warnings, only taking a few split seconds to attempt to tear flesh with tiny teeth too weak to do so. Something was preventing the hatchling from attacking Dick. Damian had a hunch as to what it was.

A peeper flipped belly up upon contact with Dick’s electric field. The elder didn’t seem to realize an aura of literal death surrounding him wasn’t appealing to a baby who couldn't understand they weren’t going to eat him. The little one flinched backward swiping wildly through the ocean.

Before Damian had the chance to snap, the guppy darted behind him, gripping onto a fin and attempting to use Damian as a shield.

“Damian, tell him I’m safe,” The elder begged, like Damian had any control over a guppy’s behavior! He wasn't some stalker who could be trained by tossing a couple pieces of meat in their direction! While it was possible to behavior train sentient beings, it was a hassle. A hassle that would land him another scolding from father who’d be… less enthused after the “incident” with Drake.

“Do you think I have him trained?” The elder paused as if considering what to say next. Good.

“I mean… Do you?”

“No! I didn’t train a baby,” He roared, tucking the child beneath a clawed hand, enough space for the child to dart through the gaps in his fingers but not enough for Dick to grab at him.

“DaMi ProtEct mE”

Dick froze, a squeal so high in pitch it disoriented a stalker that wandered into the shallows. “He knows your name! Come on kiddo, say my name too!” The elder encouraged, much to the hatchling’s terror. Damian sighed, lifting his claws to swipe at his elder brother.

“OW! What was that for?!” Dick pouted, rubbing his cheek.

“You’re scaring him!”

"I am not! right buddy?” Dick reached for the hatchling, the little one ducking away from the elder's open grasp.

“Scary,”

The hatchling screamed, the sound unnerving, sending shivers down their spines as the little one clung to Damian like a lifeline. Dick couldn’t have looked any more heartbroken.

“I told you, having both of us here would stress him out!” Damian snapped.

“You asked us to come help you find him!” The elder defended.

“Well, here he is. You can go now!”

"But-"

“Until Father dismisses me from this mission himself I will be the one watching this hatchling,” Damian interrupted.

“Damian…You know how fragile these babies are, we all need to be there for him,”

“I am perfectly capable of watching a hatchling on my own!” Damian snapped.

“You lost him about an hour ago,” Dick reminded.

“Irrelevant,” The hatchling squirmed, darting between his claws and booking it towards the surface. The hatchling did this often. Damian had learned pretty early on that it wasn’t cause for concern.

“…” Dicks silence spoke a thousand words. Damian prepared to explain the harmlessness of the action but was interrupted by his brother speaking.

“He breathes air?” The question rippled through the sea. It was an odd trait for a hatchling to have, very few creatures had the ability to breathe air. If you stuck close to the surface, you could see one of the only land dwellers flying through the sky.

“What is he?” They already knew all the babies came from artificial structures. Artificial structures that crashed down from the stars when shot down by the precursor’s structure. The children looked like their more vulnerable forms, just without the tails to jet them through the water. The all the hatchlings had legs different than anything they'd seen before. Legs suited for both land and sea.

“My guess is he’s like a cave crawler,” The child could swim, unlike cave crawlers who just walked around on the seabed. But they both shared the ability to walk on land. The hatchling stood on a piece of coral sticking out above water, staring at them intently.

The two of them watched the hatchling swim around, Damian smacking Dick to ease the child’s fear whenever he got too close for the guppy’s comfort.

“Stop hitting me!” Dick cried dramatically.

“Go back to the bulb zone and I will,” Damian snapped.

“Your electricity is killing the fish!” As if to prove his point, a garyfish floated into Dick’s electric field, almost popping from the sheer voltage the other was giving off.

“What do you think it’ll do to the hatchling if you actually manage to grab him, huh?” Damian questions, realization dawning on the eldest.

“Go back to the bulb zone and calm yourself. That Crashfish clearly stressed you out,” Damian finished, waving the other away.

“Fine, but I expect you to keep us updated!” Dick called out, boosting away from the shallows, using his hands to launch himself at top speed.

“We wIn!”

The hatchling declared, circling around him for a few seconds before fleeing to his nest.

Damian sighed, glad that the hatchling finally grew tired of attacking him.

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Ghouls Headcanons 4

dew once drank gasoline and kept coughing flames to scare the shit out of copia. He scare the shit out of everyone and almost burnt have the ministry down. Sunny tried to use him as a flame thrower.

There a hole in the wall in the common room from where Swiss fell through while he was drunk. They told sister it’s been patched up. They are filthy liars.

All ghouls watch and love baby sensory videos. It’s one of the only ways to keep them calm and quiet. It’s also one of the only ways to keep them distracted. The dancing fruit one works the best.

Sunshine bought a motorcycle with the ministry credit card. She got in a lot of trouble with sister because of it. She blamed it on copia. She also bought aether one so they can go on joyrides together.

Mountain eats rocks. Will just straight up pick rocks up off the ground and crunch down on them. He says he like the crunch. He’s not allowed to have crystals anymore because they’re like candy to him. Don’t ask him about the teeth marks in the granite work surfaces in the kitchen, it wasn’t him.

Aether needs glasses to read. All of the other ghouls find it incredibly attractive.

Sunshine, Swiss and dew are known as the terror triple around the ministry. They are not allowed to be left unsupervised together. They are banned from using cleaning supplies because they tired to make mustard gas. They peed in the gas tanks of all cars that the ministry own. They tried to make a bomb in a toilet. Not a big one they just thought it would be funny if the all water systems were broken at the same time. Thankfully they were unsuccessful.

Birds, rabbits and deer and the number 1 distraction to ghouls (apart from themselves).

They will stand at any window, staring intently at the small creatures, ears high, tails swishing and pupils blown wide while chittering and chirping to each other while

Swiss can’t be trusted with laundry detergent. He drinks it like it’s a smoothie.

Ghouls can’t dream. Something about them not having souls makes them unable to.

Mountain has terrible posture from having to duck down through doorways and lean down to talk to people. Cirrus always rubs his back for him to help.

Cumulus makes the best tiramisu ever. She’s famous for it around the ministry.

Special lives in the basement of the ministry and is the biggest gossip ever. If he’s bored he’ll make something just to see the drama unfold.

Nobody knows but cowbell lives in the basement with special. Everyone thinks he got sent back to the pits.

Aether has never sat through a full movie. He always falls asleep about halfway through. Especially if he’s in the middle of a cuddle pile.

Dew walks around with his hand in someone else’s pocket. Jean pocket, coat pocket, shirt pocket, front or back it doesn’t matter to him he’s wiggling his hand in there.

Rains favourite tv show is friends. He’s had it on repeat since he was summoned. His favourite character is joey because he reminds him of Swiss.

Ghouls have their own language that only ghouls understand. They only speak it around each other in private. They prefer to speak their papas native tongue or English around anyone else.

Rain and mountain watch my neighbour totoro together every Friday night without fail. Sometimes cirrus and cumulus join them.

Aether likes to eat bath bombs. He likes the way they fizz on his tongue. He’s gotten banned from every lush store he’s been in.

Cirrus drinks perfume. She says it smells nice so why would it taste bad. She’s surprised every time when it’s awful.

None of the ghouls can handle caffeine.

When dew was first summoned he was terrified of snow.

All of the ghouls are incredible at Mario cart. Especially cumulus and rain. They fight for first place all the time. Swiss is undefeated at just dance.

Dew and rain completely switch personalities when they’re off stage.

Cumulus does a face mask almost every night and dew and Swiss try to lick it off her every time without fail.

All ghouls are banned from playing among us. No explanation needed you already why.