#i don't have any friends in this city so i can't say i'm meeting anyone either cause it would be like. not believable at all XD

[softgrungeprophet]

trying to think of an excuse i could give my mom as to why exactly i, known hermit, would possibly need to go somewhere so's i can go to the place where they make the chocolate and avoid paying $10 shipping on $12 worth of chocolate

*for mother's day lol

[joelmillerisapunk]

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words. 

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises." 

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim. 

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

 You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter. 

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.” 

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.” 

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.” 

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you. 

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze. 

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—" 

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you.  Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release.  As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,”  he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office. 

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him. 

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin�� else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

 As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk. 

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.” 

As you step out of the car, the cool  air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again." 

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller.  you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness. 

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through 

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

[misc-obeyme]

Hi cc💕 could I request some mammon fluff headcanons 🥺🥺

Hi there, anon!

Of course you can, my friend. I'm sorry it took so long! But I actually feel like this turned out pretty okay? It's definitely fluffy at any rate. And what can I say, I love Mammon. I still don't know what it is about him.

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Mammon

Warnings: none

Everyone knows that Mammon is down bad for you. Even though he tries to play it off, he can't truly hide it from anyone. He will bluster and try to maintain his cool guy persona, but the reality is that no one is fooled. And the minute you're alone with him, it's like he becomes a different demon.

Mammon is a troublemaker, but he's also fun. When you first meet him, he's always scheming to find ways to make some fast Grimm. But as time goes on, he starts scheming about the best ways to make you smile. He comes up with some elaborate date ideas, taking you places that he thinks will impress you, constantly trying to outdo himself.

Despite this, he also enjoys a simple hang out. He'll take you in his car and just drive around the Devildom. He surprises you by stopping somewhere remote with a beautiful view of the city and the stars. Any time he wants you to himself, away from the chaos of his brothers, he asks if you want to go for a spin. You know this eventually leads to steamy make out sessions on the car hood because Mammon has a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

He's overprotective sometimes, but it makes you feel safe so you don't mind. If he ever feels like you're threatened in any way, he will immediately get between you and whatever the danger is. You have to talk him down occasionally, when a perceived insult from someone makes him start throwing punches.

Mammon likes to touch you. He needs the physical reassurance of your presence. He's always seeking out your hand or putting his arm around your shoulders. Even just sitting close to you is enough, your legs pressed together. If he can have his arms around you, he will. In quiet moments, when you're alone, he'll hold you as close as he can. He'll bury his face in your neck, taking in the feel of you, his grip almost desperate like he won't survive if he ever lets go.

It's at those times when he also finds he can't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. Words that he would never say where anyone else could hear. Words that he's kept bottled up for too long. Words that when he finally says them, he realizes he needs you to hear them. You listen and it's like stream of consciousness, almost incoherent, but there's no question that every word is about how much he loves you. About how important you are to him. About how he can't stand being apart from you.

He might even apologize. He knows it's his greed that makes him like this, too needy, too clingy, only wanting more. More of your time, more of your attention, more of your touch and your words and your soul - more of you. He might need your reassurance. Please, MC. Please tell him that ya don't mind. You hafta understand what ya do to him.

You do understand. You tell him as much, as often as he needs to hear it. You hold him close when he wants your touch. You stay beside him when he wants your time. You always answer when he calls you, always focus on him when he's with you. It turns out you've fallen just as hard for him as he has for you. Both of you are so lost in each other it starts to feel like nobody else even exists.

In those rare moments when you are apart, you can almost feel that red string of fate tying you together. When you enter a room that he's in, your eyes find him before anything else. And he's always looking right back at you, a bright grin on his face. When you're thinking of him, your D.D.D. will ding with a message where he's just saying hi. When you're in the human world, it feels like the universe is conspiring to bring the two of you back together.

Mammon will take you to parties and buy you expensive gifts that he worked hard to earn the Grimm for. He will make you feel like you've won the jackpot every day of your life. His favorite thing is to hear you laugh and to laugh with you.

He doesn't bother to think about how human you are. He has told you simply that he just wants to love you while you're still with him. Don't worry about the future. Not when he can have you right here, right now, safe in his arms.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[kaliforniahigh]

MEDUSA - Part Five.

Noah and Y/N meet again. Things are picking up for real now.

Warnings: talks of killing people, talks of violence, a mysoginistic insult directed at Y/N.

WC: Almost 2k.

Summary: Y/N is a private dancer at a Gentleman's Club called Medusa. Noah Sebastian is a crime boss. Their paths cross when one night, Noah pays for one of her dances and they can't seem to be apart from each other.

Series Masterlist

You really tried to keep calm while you waited for Noah to arrive, you didn't want to alam anyone with your nervousness. You checked your watch and it was only a quarter to 9pm. You already changed and touched up your makeup to keep yourself busy, all while replaying the conversation from earlier in the night.

A few of the girls came and went and you made small talk with them as you waited. You pondered over your decision, questioning yourself if you made the right choice to text him. If this guy and Noah were in the same business, what made them so different from each other? Why do you care for Noah and not for the other guy? If it's not Noah who ends up dead, it's probably gonna be the other guy, so why did you think one act of violence was different from the other?

You had no time to think further on your moral dillema, because soon Ava was walking through the doors and calling for your name.

"He's a repeat, you probably did a good job. Congratulations, girl", she told you, with a smile on her face, slightly raising her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. You smiled back but didn't bother answering her. Eager to get this over with, you walked to the room, looking both ways to make sure no one was watching your hasty entry.

When your eyes landed on Noah you noticed that this time he wasn't sitting on the chair, he was standing up and also had an air of anxiety around him.

"Hey, are you ok? You texted me out of nowhere. I didn't really think you were going to use my number after I went to your house", he said, subtly looking over you as if to assess any kind of injury.

"Listen I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't extremely necessary. To be honest, I'm not even sure why I'm doing this in the first place", you tried not to pace arounde the room, but he could tell you were antsy.

"Ok, you're scaring me now. Why don't you tell me what happened?", he noticed you were overly serious about this. You motioned to the couch on the other side of the room, suggestion you both sit down.

"So I had this customer tonight. He is not one of my regulars, he actually didn't pay for a dance at all. One of the girls that work the tables, delivering drinks and whatnot called in sick so I had to cover her", you started. You could tell he was hanging onto every word you said. You don't remember a man ever paying this much attention to what you were saying. Noticing that you stalled, he nodded his head to tell you to keep going.

"He requested a drink and suggested that I drink something with him, after that I sat at his table with his friends. This is all customary. But then they started to say a few things", you didn't have the chance to continue before he added.

"To you? did they offend you or insult you? did they harass you?", you shook you head.

"Noah, they were talking about you, and they were not good things", he slightly smiled at this and responded "people don't always have the nicest things to say about me".

"One of them said they're going to kill you, that what they have in store for you is going to shock everyone. And that after all is said and done you're just going to be an afterthought in the city of New York", you got everything off of your chest, your eyes wide, as if you wanted to tell him you were really serious about this.

"What happened after that?", if he was worried about this information, he didn't show it. You guessed it was for your benefit.

"I excused myself shortly after this, then I went to the dressing rooms and texted you"

"Did they notice you were nervous or that you know me at all?", he inquired. At the time you were confident that you did a good job of hiding your true feelings, but you could never know for sure.

"I don't think so. I tried to be very subtle", there was a pause in the conversation, you looked at him and he was pensive, as if considering his next steps. "You don't wanna know who these people are?", you questioned him.

"I think I already know who they are", he looked at you, he grabbed your hands in his and he noticed they were cold. "Listen, I don't trust these people. The fact that you called me here was really risky. They can't find out that you know me"

"Well, I couldn't just listen to them planning to kill you and not say anything", you said, as if that is the most obvious thing on the world.

"I know that, I'm really thankful for that. I'm gonna give you one of these, so everytime you contact me, it doesn't have to be from your personal cellphone", he took out a disposable cellphone and handed it to you "and you're not going to like what I say next, but I'm having one of my men posted outside your house and have them follow you to and from work"

You get up from you sitting position as soon as he said this, shaking your head. "There is no way. I'm not gonna have one of your goons follow me around"

"Well, I can't take the chance of you getting hurt and it being my fault", he got up after you and grabbed you by both shoulders "this is a non-negotiable order. You don't have to acknowledge their existence, but we'll both sleep better knowing you're safe"

"Ok, since we're giving out orders now, I don't think it's safe for you or your friends to come here anymore. If they were here earlier, the chances of your paths crossing are high", you talked to him in the same tone of finality that he spoke to you.

"I agree with you", he was going to give this information to you, but apparently you beat him to it. "Here's what we're gonna do. I'm calling one of my men to wait for you outside by the back entrance. What time do you get off work tonight?"

"Around 4am", you answered him.

"Ok, he is going to be here by that time. I'm going to put his number on your disposable along with mine, so if you need anything, you call him or me. Understand?", he made you look at him in the eyes. You nodded. A moment passed where you just looked at each other. You had an uneasy feeling in your gut and he had an apologetic look in his eyes.

"I have to go now. Pass the information along", he hesitated, but he could tell you had something in your mind. Not trying to pressure to say anything, he began to turn around to leave, but you stopped him.

"Are you going to be ok?", you couldn't help but ask. He could see the sincerity in your eyes. He smiled softly to reassure you.

"Yeah, I'm going to be ok, don't worry", you nodded. You had no other option but to trust him. He opened the door and left.

You sat back down on the couch, letting out a loud sigh.

Sure enough, when you left through the back door as soon as your shift ended, you noticed a black sedan parked not too far away. You checked the plate and it matched the one Noah sent you.

You pretended to not see him as you made your way over to your car. It would get a little used to having someone on your tail 24/7, but you would be lying if you said you don't feel safer.

As soon as Noah left Medusa, he called Jolly, Nick and Nicholas and told them to meet up with him at his house. Urgent matter.

During the drive, he thought about you. He wondered if he was doing enough to keep you safe. If it was up to him you would be at his house, under his watch and protection. But he knew you were never going to accept that.

Gathering everyone around the table, he explained the entire situation. It would be really important if they could pinpoint when this attack is going to happen. They all sat in silence, deep in thought.

"Dude", Jolly said, from his spot. "We have that massive gun shipment coming next week. All of us, including you", he pointed to Noah "are going to be at the port, inspecting everything".

"What if their last attack was some sort of practice for them?", Nicholas pointed out.

"If it was, they were shit. 'Cause we killed his men and got away", Jolly shrugged his shoulder and Nicholas let out a little laugh. They noticed Noah was strangely quiet, but brushed it off as him being concerned about you. They didn't know yet the depth of his feelings for you, but they knew he liked you enough to keep surveillance on you at all times.

"It wasn't an attack", he said suddently, cutting through the small talk that emerged between the guys. "I was a set up", Noah looked at everyone. Realization dawned on their faces. He kept going "we were meeting up with the supplier responsible for the shipment. They set us up and they're gonna do it again next week". He got up from his chair angrily. Noah didn't like being played like this.

After two days of being followed, you could say you were getting used to it. You also noticed they were two different men. You guess they had to take turns. You wanted to bake them a cake or something, to show appreciation, but Noah told you to not aknowledge them, so you had to leave your pleasantries for when this was over.

You felt a little more at ease. Sometimes you would take a peek at the bar and the tables during work, but from what you could tell, the men never came back. That was a relief.

Noah checked up on you every few hours. You didn't talk much, he would ask if you were ok and you would say yes and the cicle repeated itself over and over. There were times you wanted to continue the conversation, but held back. You were way too envolved in this already to make small talk with a man with a target on his back.

It was good night at work so far. You had a few clients, one of them being an older man who always requested a dance, but always sat down and talked about how his wife was having an affair with her personal trainer. That is how some of them were. It's easier for a man to go to a strip club to talk about his feeling rather than a therapist.

You were scrolling on your phone when Ava called for you, saying that your 1am client has arrived. You thanked her and walked to your vanity to put your heels back on. You were used to them, but to be barefoot between clients was a relief everytime.

You fixed your hair and walked to the room. Putting on your sexy face, you opened the door, expecting a man to be inside, only to find the room vacant, save for an envelope resting on top of the chair.

You slowly walked towards it, picking it up and inspecting it. It had nothing written on the outside. You looked behind you just to make sure this wasn't a prank.

You opened the door reserved for the clients, motioning for a security guard to come closer to you. You ask him if he saw someone coming in and out, but he said no, apologizing. Going back in the room, you opened the envelope, there was a hand-written note inside. You started reading.

You ratted, didn't you? You thought I wouldn't notice you have security around you now? Looking forward to when lover boy finds your body in a ditch somewhere. Even then, nobody cares about whores like you. J.C.

You felt your heart drop, the note slipping from your hands and everything around you becoming blurry. This couldn't be happening.

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Dividers: @cafekitsune

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

I just want somebody to treat me like somebody

Neighbor!König x reader where you struggle with seasonal depression during the winter, that is only being worsened by moving to a new city without friends or family. Then you meet König, a kind neighbor who offers you support and much needed companionship. König helps you because he's a good man. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

[DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, self harm, depression]

The winter drew out the worst in you. Seasonal depression. It was always there; just got worse around the holidays. So cliché. Moving to a new city and having zero friends or family certainly didn't help. Isolated and too depressed to go out and meet anyone. You were going crazy. Locked yourself in your bedroom with blackout curtains, crying for hours on end. Never good enough. Pathetic. Useless, useless, useless.

Your chest ached so bad you felt like you were having a heart attack sometimes. Despair swallowed you whole. You did the only thing that made you feel better. Even if you didn't do it for years, today was especially unbearable. Finding a sharpener and taking the razor out, you drag it along your skin. Snot and tears running down your face. Pain helped. You needed more. So you do it more. It was clean lines at first. Horizontal. Up your thighs. On the outside of your forearms. Up the side of your hands. It was a comforting suffering. Then vertical cuts over the horizontal ones. Mortification of the flesh. Cuts on the wrists. Not enough to do any actual damage. You learned from last time. Didn't wanna die, just wanted to not wake up the next day. A just punishment for being so unbearable to everyone, even yourself. You cringe at the way you liked watching yourself bleed, made you feel like some edgy teenager. Something was satisfying in it though.

You barely leave the apartment, only going out to work or get groceries. Always wore long sleeves. Couldn't hide the cuts on your hands though. It made your coworkers uncomfortable. It was tense whenever you came around, but nobody said anything. Why would they care about you? You don't even care about yourself.

You walk home one particularly hard day after a customer yelled at you and someone else pointed out the cuts that peeked out from under your sleeve. It starts pouring as you head home. You run as fast as you can to your apartment complex, getting cold and wet. What a fucking miserable place. Always raining. Walking up the stairs and fumbling with your keys. You drop them. It's too much. Your whole world crumbles. Tears well up in your eyes as you scramble to pick up your keys to open the door, hands trembling.

"Are you okay?"

You snap your head in the direction of the Teutonic voice. Impossibly tall, burly guy. Keys in his hands, ready to open the door to his place. A neighbor. You never saw him no matter how many times you passed each other, you were too miserable to notice honestly. Head always down, people mostly gave you uncomfortable looks anyways if they even noticed you.

He noticed you though. You radiate sadness and despair. He can almost see the perpetual rain cloud that looms over you. Your presence is heavy. Watching you almost break down was finally enough to make him say something.

"I'm fine."

You respond, choking back tears. This close to full-blown sobbing. You were not fine. Something about his words makes you ache. Maybe it reminds you that he's the only person to check in on you since you got here. You wanted pain, enjoyed it even. But it was distressing this time, made you kind of scared of how far it would take you this time. Even if it was three simple words, they comfort you. You need that from somebody. Anybody.

There was an uncomfortable silence as you stood in front of your doors. You look up into his eyes. They looked tired, like he worked long and demanding hours. He can't help but feel empathy for you. It was clear you were suffering. Defeated eyes begged, 'save me, save me, save me'. Can't help himself anymore. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth. At least he was doing something good. He clears his throat.

"Kaffee?"

He offers. You bite your lip, never wanting to be a bother. Not wanting to take up space or feel vulnerable in front of another person. But you need this. More than anything. You've been screaming and screaming for someone to help you. It's enough to drive anyone mad.

"Alright."

You turn to him, as he unlocks his door, and lets you step in first.

"Shoes, bitte."

You comply, looking around. Spotless. Looks like something out of a magazine. Not a single thing looks out of place. Has to have OCD or something. He ushers you to the kitchen and shuffles around, making your drinks.

"How do you take yours?"

He grabs milk from the fridge, bending his imposing frame oddly.

"Sweet and light."

There are no more words said. He sets down the cup in front of you. Leans back in a chair on the other side of the table, sipping coffee. He examines you. You avoid his gaze. Both of you shift in your seats, awkward. Both of you are afraid to say something. It's like this until you finish your drink, setting the cup down.

"Thanks."

You instinctively pull on your sleeves to cover your hands.

"Natrülich. Anytime."

There was more that he wanted to say. Couldn't find the words though. What was he supposed to say to a stranger? It was enough for you though. At least in that moment. Someone noticed you. Made sure you were ok. Kind of. You stand and slip your shoes back on before walking to your apartment. His door was still open. You play with your keys, hoping there is more to be said.

"You can take my number if you'd like."

He pulls out his phone as you turn around, trading contact info before fucking off to your dismal abode. He watches you disappear into your dark apartment. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

You curl up in bed in the dark, the usual. Holding your phone, staring at the screen. König. Never heard that name before. Look it up out of curiosity. The fuck? Did he seriously put his name down as king? You're just kind of confused staring at your phone for a while before crying yourself to sleep like always.

Ever since he made himself known, you'd notice him. Going up the stairs, heavy steps in his steel-toe boots. Sometimes you'd be getting home at the same time. Sometimes getting your mail as he was checking his. Hm.

Always quick 'hi's' and 'bye's'. You've yet to text him. You're sure he just gave you his number because he felt bad. Maybe obligated? Whatever. You were in the middle of a breakdown, cutting up yourself. You get a ding from your phone. An unfamiliar sound. You never get texts. Or calls. You look at the screen. König. Still can't believe he typed that.

Hope you are doing well.

He knows you're not. He can see it in your face whenever you walk by; eyes sunken from the constant tears, fresh and old wounds peeking out from under your sleeves. Looked like you were withering away even more so than before.

Thanks

Intrusive thoughts flood your brain. Never good enough. He just pities you. Maybe can't stand the way you make him uncomfortable whenever you pass by with your insufferable self.

Kaffee?

He doesn't know what else to say. Doesn't want to intrude. Can't help himself. Every time he sees you he aches a little.

Sure

You wash your bleeding arms before slapping some gauze on them and throwing on a hoodie. You're in his place again, this time in the pristine living room. Him on a recliner, you on the couch. He clears his throat.

"So, what do you do?"

His voice trying to be as soft as he can be. He's intimidating standing, but he tries to be more mollified sitting down across from you. You stare at the floor.

"Barista."

You're not one for conversation. Neither is he.

"You?"

Your voice a morose whisper.

"Freelancer."

His answer is purposely ambiguous. You're curious, but don't push. You set your coffee on the accent table next to you. He stands before you even put it down, placing a coaster under your cup. How anal.

"Do you want to..."

He racks his brain. He's not one to host. Doesn't know what to do.

"...watch TV?"

It's the only thing he can think of.

"Sure."

Better than being alone, you reckon. He asks what you want to watch. You think for a moment. You haven't had any interest in anything lately, nevermind sitting down and watching something. Suddenly, something springs in your head. It's ridiculous. He wouldn't want to watch that. Fuck it.

"50 First Dates."

It was what you watched when you were younger. Put it on whenever you felt down. 'Gossamer thin,' one critic said 'but lots of fun nevertheless.' His face is neutral.

"Never heard of that movie."

He types it out in the search bar. Of course he hasn't, must've been at least 20 when it came out, definitely too grown and not the type to watch shit like this. You were kind of regretting it now. What a cringey fucking movie. He puts it on. It's kind of embarrassing watching it. There are no words exchanged. Eventually, you stop caring about what he thinks; you just appreciate the movie. There's a familiar emotion as it finishes. Always adored the ending, made you feel good. Or at least better than before.

"Interesting."

He says, impassive. Eyes glued to the screen. You feel the need to defend yourself but don't.

"Well..."

You stand; wanting to crawl under your covers and dissipate from humiliation. He follows suit, walking you out of his apartment.

"Thank you for coming."

He says in a way you're not sure you believe.

"Anytime."

As you close your door, you kick yourself. Dumbass, he's never gonna let your weird ass back in his place ever again. He closes his door. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

~

You go about your monotonous days, mopey as ever. It's like you were stuck in your very own cruel and dreary Groundhog Day. A week goes by. Ding

Hope you are doing well.

Wow, he really must feel bad for you.

Thanks

You could try to be more amiable for someone who gives you the time of day.

Would you like to come over for dinner?

Dinner, how intimate. Your thumbs fidget over the screen, keyboard awaiting your response.

Sure

You don't even attempt to dress nice, just don the same hoodie and baggy pants combo you always do.

It's a quiet dinner. Steak and potatoes. Probably the most complex thing this man can whip up. Still, it's better than the junk you've been shoveling down your gob.

"Thanks."

You say between bites.

"Natrülich."

He responds. As if this was a common occurrence between the both of you.

"Any hobbies?"

He's cutting his steak. It bleeds, practically still mooing. Thankfully, yours is cooked more thoroughly.

"Not really. You?"

You chew your steak. God, you're such a loser.

"Reading. Cycling. Bird watching."

He states, cutting his potatoes in quarters. Quite the character, this one. Whatever, it was nice to not eat alone for once. Better than eating delivered fast food in the dark like some gremlin. Dinner is finished and you didn't even have a full conversation, probably something you both preferred. He waits for you to close your door before he closes his.

Something made you feel better temporarily as you sat in his apartment. Some company was good for you, as much as you despised feeling burdensome.

It became a weekly routine for the two of you; no contact until you get an invite, eat dinner in silence, maybe a nonintrusive question, then you scurry back to your apartment. You looked forward to it, as predictable it was. One day he says something off-script while cutting his roasted potatoes in quarters,

"Two peanuts were walking down the road. One was assaulted."

You stop chewing, staring at your plate. You sympathetically force out a chuckle. He knows it's disingenuous. Kind of appreciates you entertaining him, though. You think the same. Leave. He cleans up, thinking about that splotch of blood on the sleeve of your hoodie. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

~

The coldest months of the year touch down, they're harsher then the winters your used to. You're freezing, even when your heat is turned up as high as it can go. One morning you wake up, can see your own breath. Heater fucking shit itself. You call the landlord, says he'll get it fixed asap. You trudge to work, same shit different day. Get home. Still fucking freezing, somehow even colder. Layer every blanket you have on the bed and slip under them with the warmest clothes you own. Try to get warm, doesn't work. Makes you wanna cry; it's the only thing you can think of doing at this point. God must love to see you suffer, it's the only answer to why you have such a shitty life. You just wanna jump off a bridge. Ding

You're in front of his door faster than usual, still wearing layers of clothing. Still numbingly cold. He opens the door, confused look on his face. You can feel the warmth radiating from his place.

"Heaters broken."

Your tone is even more than defeated than usual. You shuffle into his place and strip down to your hoodie and pants. He folds and places each article of clothing on the couch. Kind of feel bad for making him clean up after you. Kind of too downtrodden to care. He serves up something different. Soup?

"Something more hearty for the cold."

He states as he places a bowl infront of you. Red meat with potatoes and some other vegetables. Same thing he usually cooks but in a soup form. You appreciate it, very comforting. Avoiding eye contact as usual, you eat. Only sound is your spoons hitting the ceramic bowls.

"You could sleep here. Until the heating is fixed."

He offers, still looking at his bowl. You look up at him.

"I wouldn't want to be a bother."

You really didn't. Plus, he works so hard to make his place perfect. Wouldn't want to mess that up.

"No bother. Really.'

He keeps eating. He knows you are alone. Knows you have no one to turn to. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

You contemplate. Would you rather freeze to death? Hell no.

"Thank you."

That's as close to a yes you can say. He nods, grabs the plates and cleans his kitchen. You walk back to your place; grabbing a toothbrush and clothes to sleep in, stuffing it all in a tote. It's weird being in his place after dinner; can't describe it really, just feels different. He places some blankets and a pillow on the couch. You change into some plaid sweats and a long sleeve shirt.

"Goodnight, Fräulein."

A hint of awkwardness in his voice.

"Goodnight."

You reply, lying on the couch and trying to make yourself comfortable. Little early to be going to bed but whatever. Guess that's what people his age do? Sleep comes easier than usual.

~

You wake up, stand, and stretch. He's sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and reading the news from his Kindle. Watches you reach your arms above your head, the dimples on your back peeking out from under your shirt.

"Morgen, Fräulein."

He greets you. You wonder how long he's been up. Didn't wake you up walking around.

"Good morning."

Your voice raspy, sitting across from him. You're not wearing a bra: never do when you sleep. He can tell, tries not to make it obvious.

"Kaffee?"

He stands, not waiting for an answer.

"Mhm."

You reach your hands out as he places a warm cup in your hand. He always made it just how you liked it. Hm.

You have to get ready for work. He hands you a towel and starts the shower. You lock yourself in the bathroom, the steam warm and inviting. You forgot to bring your own shampoo or body wash, great. Just use whatever he has. It seems expensive, hope he doesn't mind. First time seeing a man use real shampoo and conditioner, not 3-in-1. Scrub down with his body wash. Smells like fucking heaven. Floral with a hint of...saltwater? Look at the bottle, "Un Jardin sur la Lagune," sounds about right. "By Hermès", what the fuck? This shit is practically liquid gold. Guess it's befitting for a guy that calls himself king. Finish getting ready. Before you walk out the door, he calls out from the kitchen.

"Text me when you're headed back, ja?"

You nod and assure him you will. Walking to the coffee shop, you think about him. You don't really know what to make of him. Feeling his presence in the other room made it a little easier to sleep though. And now you smell like him. It's such a subtle, pleasant scent, kind of soothing. The day goes by a little faster, customers are less agitating, aroma of coffee is replaced with his. Hm.

~

The walk back is pleasant, as cold as it is. Being in his place instead of the dark abyss you call home was...you can't put a word to it. All you know is that it felt warm. Enter his place, he left the door unlocked for you. Dinner is already on the table. He'd make such a wonderful housewife, you joke to yourself.

"Abend, Fräulein."

He greets nonchalantly.

"Evening, König."

You cringe at saying his 'name'. Swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch. Dinner is less awkward than usual.

"Anything from the landlord?"

He grabs your bowl once you're done.

"Oh, no. I should check, right?"

It slipped your mind. Maybe he's politely saying, 'get the fuck out'. You call the landlord. It rings for a while.

"Calling my guy tomorrow."

Was his response. Didn't really sound like he cared. Didn't even really sound like he was gonna do that. You sigh.

"You can withhold rent if he keeps this up, report him to the proper authorities."

He says serious, almost frustrated. You take note of that.

"I promise I'll be out of your hair soon enough."

Your tone dismal as always. This situation really made you feel so burdensome. He stopped for a moment, staring at the wall infront of the sink.

"It's no issue, really."

He wanted to say, stay. Stay until you feel less broken. Stay until you feel like you can stand on your own two feet. Stay until your wounds heal over and fade away. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

He looked over to you as you fiddled with the cuff of your hoodie. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

~

You were lounging on the couch, him on the recliner. You were scrolling mindlessly through one of the many social media apps you have. He was lost in some book that looked heavy and boring. This was pleasant. Better than the pit of despair your apartment is. You look over your phone. Never really did get a good look at him. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows from when he was doing the dishes earlier; nails pristine but with hands of a working man, large and definitely strong. Knuckles dark as if he fought a lot in a past life. Veins prominent on the back of his hand, they run up his forearm. You know they climb up his biceps. You picture it. Hm.

~

The next week passes by fast. Stopped cutting for the sole reason of being under someone else's roof. Only cried every other day instead of every other hour. Did it in the shower either before or after work. He noticed, of course, just bit his tongue.

"The landlord hasn't been picking up. Gonna try to reach out to the Tenants' Association."

You spoon hot goulash into your mouth.

"Gut."

He nods, sleeves rolled up again to not get sauce on his cuffs.

Still feeling weird about this whole thing, wondering when he'll get sick of this whole charity case situation. You always walk back to the apartment thinking this will be the time your stuff is outside of his locked door. Not like you'll be homeless or anything. Just sucked back into the ninth circle of hell that is your apartment.

"Would you like to watch a movie, Fräulein?"

He grabs the dishes and washes them.

"Sure."

You wonder if you'll have to pick again. Maybe you'll choose something less juvenile. You settle into your usual spots in the living room.

"I think you will like this one."

He stares at the TV, avoiding eye contact. He types into the search bar. '13 going on 30'. You're kind of embarrassed that he clocked you as the sappy romcom loser you are. You wonder if he watched this before. Definitely not. Did he try to find something you'd like? The thought makes you feel odd. You watch the film in silence, a small smile crosses your face at the end. Hm.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

He always spoke so proper, guess that's just how Germans talk.

"Very much, thank you."

You try not to sound like your usual sad self. A flicker of some emotion dances across his eyes. He stands and walks to his room.

"Goodnight, Fräulein."

You settle into the couch.

"Good night, König."

~

Today was your day off, you wanted to be productive; wash your clothes, go grocery shopping, maybe help clean the apartment up.

"You are a guest. I'll take care of everything, it's my apartment."

His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. Let's you put your dirty clothes in the washer, but that's about it. He dusts, sweeps, mops. Cleans every surface possible, down to the last detail. You're just kind of sat there, feeling useless. He waves you over once your clothes are done drying, dumping your clothes on his bed. This is your first time seeing his bedroom. Just as pristine as the rest of his place.

"I made some space for you."

He slides open a drawer. You were about to say something, but he kind of stares at you in a way that silences you. He leaves to the kitchen. You fold your clothes, putting them away as neat as you can. Once your done you turn to leave. You notice that there are no pillows on his bed.

"We can go to the store together, if you'd like."

He offers, sliding into his jacket. You nod, throwing some warmer clothes on. You're out the house, headed to the grocery store. Walking next to him made you realize how huge this man was. You wondered how you looked from his perspective. You follow him around the store like a lost puppy.

"You can grab something if you'd like."

He says as he grabs a bag of potatoes. You walk off, trying to give him some space. It must be annoying to have some sad, strange woman in your house; using your expensive soap, breathing down your neck, eating your food.

You don't know what you want. Whatever he makes is good enough. More than that. You grab some brownie mix. Maybe you'll bake him something. As soon as you know it, you're back at his place.

"Brownies, ja?"

He pointed out as he put away the food.

"Was gonna make some tonight. For you."

You tell him, watching him from the kitchen table. He pauses for a moment.

"Danke schön, Fräulein."

He finishes putting the groceries away, returning his reusable bags back into the pantry. You face each other. Both of you getting a better look at each others faces. Those sleepy eyes of his accentuated by long lashes, subtle and light scars scattered across his face, stubble that looked like it would feel like fine grit sandpaper. Hm.

He clears his throat as he walks to the living room, sitting down to read. You don't really know what to do with yourself, scrolling through your phone all the time is a little depressing. Guess you'll just start baking. Might be a little early, but fuck it. Standing in his kitchen you look around, you don't even know where he put the brownie mix. You open cabinets and drawers, shuffling around.

"Fräulein?"

He startles you, standing at the entrance of the kitchen. He can be surprisingly quiet when he wants to be.

"Oh, I just wanted to start baking..."

You weren't sure if he wanted to let you do that. Might make too much of a mess. He shrugs and maneuvers around the kitchen, reaching over you to grab a bowl. You weren't even necessarily small, but you still dwarfed him.

"Here, Fräulein."

He sets everything up on the counter.

"Thank you."

You put everything together, try not to make a mess. Baking tray in the oven. Wait. Back on the couch, scrolling through your phone. He reads his book, peeking up inconspicuously. He sees your arms for the first time. You rolled them up while baking. He tries not to react. It's more than he expected, you're littered with gashes. Catches him off guard. You blink, feeling more exposed than usual. Quickly cover up your arms. He goes back to his book. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

Dinner is quiet, you know he saw your cuts. Made you feel weird. Ashamed. You go to sleep, thinking about how you lay on the only pillow he has in this place. Hm.

~

Lying in his bed, door locked. He stares at the ceiling while he fucks his hand. Always did it when you showed any appreciation; a simple 'thank you' or a fake smile when he tells a shitty joke. Then you made him fucking brownies? Gott im himmel, that made him so hard he got dizzy. Imagines your sweet lips curling up into a smile while looking up at him before you show him how grateful you really are. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

~

You wake up the next morning, same routine as usual. Coffee, shower, work. Tenants' Association gets back to you. It took them long enough. They reached out to your landlord, chewed his ass out. Heat should be back on by tomorrow the latest. Realize what this means. You kind of don't want to go back to your place. Feel like you'll just slide back into your old ways. But you can't stay at his place forever. No matter how much he says it's ok. Walking back home, you decide not to tell him about the fixed heater for another couple of days. While making dinner, König heard the maintenance guys walk into your place. Disappointment washes over him. A few minutes after they leave your place, you walk into his.

"Schnitzel."

He says, waiting for you to take a seat. Something new? Looks delicious, take a bite. It is.

"It's really good."

You devour it, really is comforting. Tastes like home somehow. He watches you tear into the meal as if it would run away from you. He clenches his jaw, swallowing.

"You like it, Fräulein?"

His hands lay on his thighs under the table.

"Love it, thank you."

You quickly look up at him and smile.

"Natrülich, Fräulein."

He digs his fingers into his thighs; wanting to milk this as much for as long as he can while he still has the chance. He's going to miss this. He starts washing the dishes.

"Hear anything from the landlord?"

Wonders when you'll break the news to him.

"Oh...no."

You reply casually while freaking out inside, hoping he doesn't notice you're lying. He avoids looking at you, embarrassingly leaky tip tucked up into his waistband under a conveniently long sweater. He subtly grinds against the counter.

"Would you like to watch a movie?"

He always sounded so polite, so disarming. You nod and change into your pajamas, sitting on the couch. He brings over a hot chocolate. You take it, looking at his long, thick fingers and veiny hands. Fucking delicious. Hm.

"You shouldn't have, really."

You flashed a small smile at him. His eyes were soft, stared right into yours. This was the longest you two ever made eye contact for. Didn't even feel awkward doing it. You sit through another romcom, a warm feeling washes over you.

"I really appreciate everything you do for me, König. I can't thank you enough, really."

You can't imagine why he's been so kind to you, but you're grateful for it. Makes you wanna stay forever.

"You can..."

He starts, shifting in his recliner.

"...you can stay for as long as you like, you know?"

His voice a little shaky. You might actually take him up on his offer. So what if you depended on him? He seems to like it. (He fucking loves it.) He wants to help you. (He wants to fuck your brains out.) He's just a man with a heart of gold. (He's an egotistical freak who gets off on playing hero.)

"I'd like that."

You finally respond, leaning back into the couch and relaxing. A weight lifting off your shoulders. He shows off a soft smile, the corners of his eyes crease. Hm.

~

"Breaking the lease would be cheaper than continuing to pay rent, I'll help you cover that."

He says nonchalantly while handing you your coffee the next morning. You blinked. This is a lot all at once...

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-"

"Let me help you, bitte? It's really no issue at all."

His eyes were so kind, it made you feel so warm and safe. How could you turn down his help now? There was an overwhelming feeling. It's been building up since the first time he talked to you. A tightness in your chest. You felt indebted to him. More than indebted. You owed him so much. In all honesty? You owed him your life.

"I really can't thank you enough...'

His jaw clenched as cleared his throat and leaned back into the chair.

"Letting me help you is all the thanks I need, Fräulein."

Something in his eyes flicker though, it was unsettling. You shrug it off. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

~

By the next week, you sold most of your furniture and moved the rest of your things into his flat. He picked where everything went though, and why not? It was his apartment and he had a place for everything. If he didn't, he'd make space. You brought up the idea of splitting rent or paying utilities. He waved it off,

"Absolutely not, save your money."

Another week of sleeping on the couch has started messing with your back, so naturally he makes you sleep in his bed while he's on the couch. But a man of his stature and age? After the fourth day on the couch, his whole body was shot. Constantly stretching, groaning when bending over, taking paracetamol as often as he can.

"You can sleep in the bed, I'll take the couch."

You offer while he handed you your tea one night.

"Nonsense. That is unthinkable."

He rolls his head side to side, stretching his neck. You bite your lip. He sips his tea.

"We can...we can share the bed."

You look up at him through your lashes, coy. He nearly chokes,

"Out of the question."

His ears burn.

"Fine, let me... Can I give you a massage?"

~

He's face down on the bed while you're on your knees next to him, hands kneading broad toned shoulders. Hm. You tug at his shirt.

"Take this off, can't give you a proper massage like this."

You feel kinda perverted, wanting an excuse to see what's been under those sweaters and button ups. He puts up a half-hearted fight before taking off his sweater and undershirt. Scars litter his body, some silver and flat, others dark and raised.

"Freelancer, huh?"

You run your fingers across the biggest one, it runs diagonally from his right shoulder down to the left side of his waist.

"Jein..."

He replies uncomfortably, voice barely above a whisper.

"Turn off the lights, Fräulein?"

Less of a request than it was him begging. You nod, complying. The moonlight illuminates the room in a blueish hue. You massage him, his skin covered with bumps and divots that feel like braille under your fingers. Hands run from up his back, down his arms, and back up to his neck. He turns over, eyes shining up at you. Soft touches on his chest and face, day old stubble across his jaw. You feel your heart beating out of your chest. Hm.

One soft, hesitant kiss that turns into two, then three. Then, it deepens, getting more desperate. Big, rough hands placed on the back of your neck and waist. Soft breaths and moans fill the room. Sit right on him, hips grinding against his. Your cheap denim rubbing his expensive linen silk. Half lidded stares and panting while you tear your shirt off. That makes him buck his hips up just so he can watch your chest jump. Your bottoms come off first, then his. You take a sharp breath in while you watch his dick spring up, slapping his stomach.

He just smiles down at you, admiring how your body looks. You freeze, not sure how to move forward with...that. He takes charge, sitting up and manhandling you, pinning you down and licking your inner thighs. He wraps his arms around your legs, hands locked in front of your hips. It starts with soft, almost ticklish licks. Then he buries himself into you. It's wet, a little colder than your radiating heat, dizzying, and delicious. Hm.

He pulls away, chest rising and falling fast. Lines himself up with you, looks into your eyes, searching for consent before moving forward. You nod eagerly. The tip alone makes you gasp, he shoots his eyes back up to your face.

"Keep going, I'm fine."

You assured him. He pushes himself in as far as you can take it, eyebrows furrowed. He made a face that you would laugh at if you weren't trying so hard to adjust to him. You gripped the sheets. He started moving slowly, groans escaping him.

"You are wonderful...so tight and soft...all of this, just for me, ja?"

"Uh-huh..."

Your mouth ajar, eyes rolled back. You'd agree to anything this man said right now if he kept fucking you like this. His hips moved faster. And faster. And harder. And harder. Your toes curl and back arches, close to the edge. His eyes are wide.

"Say thank you for every time I make you come, ja?"

It was less a request and more of a demand, the softness in his voice gone. You just agreed breathlessly, you'd say thank you happily and mean it. You haven't came in so long, the feeling of pleasure was almost foreign to you. He dug right up into your sweet spot, long forearms on either side of your head. He fucked that orgasm right out of you.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou-"

"Mhm."

Foolish smile across his face, reveling in the moment. He helped people. That's what he did. Made him feel like God's gift to Earth.

You spasmed around him. He kept going. And going. And going. He makes you thank him until your voice is hoarse, until sweat is dripping off the both of you, until you're sure the both of you are sore. Before you know it he pulls out of you and kneels right next to your head,

"Open, mein Engel."

He pants while pulling your head to his lap. You wrap your pretty mouth just barely around his tip and gag when he pushes down. His hands shake and grip the back of your neck hard while he spills a heavy, hot load down your throat. He moans when you look up at him, pull his dick out your mouth with a satisfying pop, and smile. He admires the way you flop on your back, drool down your chin, hair a mess, legs splayed and shaking. Shame, such a pretty young thing in shambles.

[trans-queen-administrator]

Hey, can I hear about your shatterbird thoughts? She's always been my favourite member of the nine :]

[@faultlinescrew]

Oh I'm about to type for entirely too long.

Alright so a chunk of this is kinda headcanon, but any of that is fully based on canon. I had a giant fanfic planned that was literally an expanded telling of Shatterbird's life from trigger to death, and some plot points there may bleed into this unconsciously.

Number one favorite thing about Shatterbird is that initially, she did nothing wrong. She was unwillingly dosed with a Cauldron vial, and her scream and subsequent exploding of Dubai wasn't her fault. She had no intention to hurt anyone, it was done entirely out of her control as she gained powers and she should not be blamed for her first time destroying a city. The thing is, that doesn't matter in universe. She's still going to be hunted down by countless capes because she killed an untold number of people with that scream. No one's going to just let her go because it wasn't her fault, because she's the only person who can be blamed. People want revenge for their loved ones, and I'm willing to bet that she had a sizable bounty. It's similar to the situation we see with Rachel, where she can't have a normal life because she killed someone in her trigger and her identity is public, but on a much much larger scale.

I think the guilt ate at her so fucking bad at first. She killed her dad, her friends, her sister, her mother, countless others, and as much as it wasn't her fault she's still the one that did it. There's no way she doesn't blame herself for what happened, but when does she even have time to mourn? She's fled to a desert, she's gotta be struggling with food and water, and she's being hounded at every turn by people who want her dead. What's she supposed to do, let them kill her so she can atone for what she did or something?

I just love what a tragic backstory this is. She's one of the most horrible people we meet in canon, and I don't think it's unreasonable to say she has one of the highest body counts on Earth Bet, but she started as someone innocent and desperately trying to survive. And as much as I love this backstory and will defend to the death that she did nothing wrong at this point, it doesn't excuse who she becomes.

Shatterbird laughed.  “There’s only two ways to recover from something of that magnitude, to deal with the fact that you inadvertently killed thousands and thousands of people, and hospitalized twice that many.  You break, or you become it.”

(quote is from the missing interlude)

This is the quote that puts her entire character in a nutshell. The biggest question to me is... when did she become it? She implies in that interlude that it was rather quick, and that she went to Britain so she could hit a big target, but the Tattletale clone calls this out as a lie. She was running, the desert that she'd been in for months was unbearably loud with all that sand, and I think she was sick of living on the run. She wanted society, structure, something to make her feel human. I think she's full of shit saying she went there to destroy it, some accident or desperate confrontation occurred (timeline fits well enough for it to be a result of the Simurgh's attack, but that's just one possibility) and she broke London just as bad as she broke Dubai. What do you even do from there? Any slim hope of clearing her name is gone, she just has to keep running and try to ignore the guilt. And she ran to America, where the Slaughterhouse Nine found her.

The recruiting of people by the Slaughterhouse Nine fascinates me, because most are unwilling to join at first. Unfortunately the alternative is to die. No one in Brockton Bay was jumping to be the lucky winner, and the only people we know nominated themselves are Cherish and I think Siberian. Shatterbird (ever notice how she's the only S9 member with no canon first name? drives me nuts) was dragged into the recruitment process with no say in the matter just like most everyone is. Someone in the Nine found her, thought she would be a good fit because of London and Dubai (and how would that feel, to have someone on the S9 see you as just as bad as them?) and even if she explains that was on accident... what does it matter? It never matters that it was an accident. It never will matter. It's just something that she can tell herself to keep her sane.

So she's doing the fun little tests, I'm actually very curious how she altered herself for Mannequin's since he always does the same test, she's a very vain person, but that's off topic. Atrocities, horrors, being hunted by the Siberian, and suddenly she's at the end. Her and someone else.

“That’s not really a test,” Shatterbird spoke, “There hasn’t been a round of testing since I joined the group where we didn’t whittle it down to one candidate.” “We could forego the final test, pitting them against one another.” Shatterbird turned to him, “Ah.  But, again, the last test where we had to go that far was… mine?”

And she kills them. Dubai, London, those were accidents. This was on purpose, maybe even the first time she's done it on purpose. She could either break and decide she couldn't live with herself as a member of the nine, or she could just as horrible as everyone sees her. All her choices were rigged, there was never much of an opportunity to get better since so many paths closed off to her, but she voluntarily chooses to get worse. What's the point in holding on to the fact that it wasn't her fault at the beginning? She's never escaping what she did, so she'll become the monster everyone sees her as. You break, or you become it.

And there's not much of the more sympathetic side of Shatterbird in canon (partly because her backstory chapter was removed). She's fully embraced herself as a mass murderer. She revels in the attention, the fear. She parrots Jack's philosophy as a way to feel better about what she's doing, and eventually she doesn't need to feel better because she enjoys who she is now.

I don't know, I rambled for a while there but it boils down to me being fascinated by the circumstances of her gaining powers, and the shift from innocent but hated/feared to making damn sure that fear is justified.

Ok, so moving on from the backstory analysis, other miscellaneous details. Fuck it, I'm putting every thought I have on Shatterbird in this post.

She's the Nine's primary recruiter! Woo, good for her. Notably, she recruits Burnscar. Mimi is in a similar position to Shatterbird's past self with the whole involuntary mass destruction, although on a lesser scale (it'll always be on a lesser scale, Shatterbird has the worst trigger event out there in terms of consequences and she didn't even trigger). Mimi was on the streets and trying not to use her power, and Shatterbird scooped her up into the Nine.

“I- before I knew it, the Slaughterhouse Nine had found me.  Shatterbird recruited me.  And now I’m stuck.  I’m trapped.  You know there’s a kill order out on me?  If I try to quit, either the Nine or the cops will off me.  So I keep going, I work for them, and it all just gets worse.”

It's a situation Shatterbird can very likely relate to, but she's perpetuating it and making Mimi suffer like she did. No sympathy, no helping someone get through it and avoid the pitfalls she fell into, she's dragging other people down with her like a crab in a pot. Worth noting that I believe she's still bitter about the hand she was dealt even if she's embraced where it led her to, she remembers how horrible it was to be forced into everything and she does not care if she inflicts it on others.

But if someone else willingly joins the Nine, she takes it personally. Cherie says Shatterbird hates her, and that's because Cherie chooses the life Shatterbird was locked into. She's bitter that she never had that choice, and so she makes sure Cherie understands what it's like by chasing her for days for her test, not allowing any rest or sleep. However, this could also simply because Cherie sucks and is an unpleasant person to talk to, and Shatterbird is stuck-up.

Another thing I like is Shatterbird's appearance of knowledge and elegance. She's trying to appear put together, confident, in-control, and to be fair she does a pretty good job, her costume and theming are great. But under that is someone violent and angry, she's keeping up appearances to everyone else but also to herself. The fact that she's always trying to keep up appearances, even when locked in a room and doomed to die with one Witness (haha get it) she's trying to make it look like she was calm and in control when her body is found, is what 100% convinces me exploding Britain was an accident. The Tattletale clone calls her out, and to me it seems like another attempt to seem in control by framing it as deliberate.

Anyway, my attempts to woobify a mass murderer aside, I also like that she was a spoiled rich kid before all this and her prim asshole attitude points to that. She quotes Edgar Allen Poe, she reads because it makes her feel better than others, she's just so pretentious and unpleasant and to be clear I love this as a character trait, it's fun and leads to her speaking in overdramatic ways.

“Then you should know, nearly-Tattletale, that I’ve spent too long in the company of monsters to be scared by words.”

She thinks she was soooo cool saying that.

I also want to look at the last few weeks of her life. She spends so much effort propping herself up as great and in control, only to be locked in a box and puppeted around against her will. Genuinely I cannot think of anything more humiliating and agonizing for her to endure. She has nothing to do but think as she's used as a marionette.

She had a long time to reflect on her life, to look back at how she got here and what she regrets.

But I think she spent it stewing in her rage, itching and planning to get violent revenge and keep hurting others to be respected. She's unwilling and unable to go back, she'll double down on this forever because this is who she is now. And because 99% of characterization for Shatterbird isn't in Worm anyway, I may as well toss in this minor AU summary by Wildbow. If she escaped, she would have started her own version of the Nine with Damsel of Distress and Trickster. There is nothing left to sympathize with or redeem Shatterbird by the time we see her in canon, she's simply past that point. Side note but Shatterbird + Damsel of Distress + Trickster as a team is perhaps the funniest combo ever and I really wish those 3 fuckers got to interact in canon. Weirdo assholes who dress up fancy and have a taste for theatrics as a murder crew, we were robbed.

I could analyze the Hookwolf interlude but I don't want to. I'm very annoyed that Shatterbird (still no first name) is the only member of the Nine to lose the fight against her recruit instead of appearing terrifying and unstoppable. How come Burnscar can solo Faultline's crew but 3 nazis can take out Shatterbird, who has way more experience? It's pretty uncomfortable to have the only member of the Nine who isn't white be the one that loses to nazis, while one calls her a slur in his internal monologue, in the interludes where everyone else on her team is introduced as a force of nature. I think we should just collectively agree to make this interlude not canon and un-retcon the Witness interlude. While I'm on the topic it's also a bit questionable to have Sophia and Shatterbird (no first name. I am annoyed by this) as the only named capes puppeted by Regent?

But that's not the topic I wanna explore. The topic is that Shatterbird is a great character and I wish that she had depth in the story itself rather than scattered through 20 different sources, because she's legitimately my favorite non-undersider in the story. There is a lot of potential to explore her, one could interpret her backstory in a less charitable way than I did just for an example, and I really think she's neat! She takes hurting someone in an accident and then becoming the monster people see her as, something we see a few times throughout worm, to its ultimate conclusion in terms of scale. That alongside her outer layer of intellectualism and pretentiousness, which I'm a massive sucker for as a trait, and she's just perfect. Did nothing wrong (citation needed). I love her and I do hope that at least some of the stuff written her makes someone appreciate her character more.

Ok! That was... 2.2k words about Shatterbird (no first name). Woo! If some stuff seems inconsistent between paragraphs here, it's probably because I wrote this in chunks over the course of a few weeks and my feelings at the time can influence my interpretation of things and my writing to feel different when read all at once and compared. If you think I'm woobifying her too much, cool. I think it makes her more compelling to examine how much we know was her fault and how much she shouldn't be blamed for, and making her have less agency makes her more tragic which I always like. If you actually read this to the end, thank you! Have a nice day!

[scarasimping]

- your birthday with scaramouche

- a/n: i saw scara's birthday voice line and was inspired plz i love him so much. i wrote this very late so sorry if theres any mistakes. but i pulled c1 scara tomight and got his weapon so im very excited !! may all scara wanters be scara havers.

- fluff fluff so much fluff, kinda pining from both sides

"take my hand."

if any sane person were to be offered the hand of the wanderer, they would most definitely say no. after all, the amount of atrocities he's committed was too many to be counted on both hands, and even though he may have left the fatui he's still not the most trustworthy type.

"there's no need to be nervous," he says, but with him staring directly into your soul it's hard not to be.

today was your birthday, your friends in sumeru had thrown you a lavish party with cake and music and a special performance by nilou herself at the grand bazaar. though it was very fun, indeed, anyone would need a break after something as exciting as that, so you decided to step out into the streets of sumeru for some air.

it was here that the wanderer, or scaramouche, emerged from the alleys, offering his hand to you with the most innocent smile he can muster on his face.

"I'm just taking you to vantage point. isn't that a normal birthday activity?"

reluctantly, you place your hand in his outstretched one and he grips it tight, beginning to lead you down the many winding streets of sumeru city. his hand, despite it being cold, spread a warmth through your body. it was late in the afternoon, the sun would be setting soon, and you had to admit that in this lighting he did look quite pretty, though you'd never say that out loud.

he seemed to sense your gaze on him, sparing a glance behind him quickly.

"stop staring at me."

it was a somewhat long walk, but where you ended up was on the balcony in front of the sanctuary of suransthana. finally, he released you hand here while you wandered towards the railing, staring at the sight in front of you.

in the time it took for you to get here, the sun had begun to set over the horizon, painting a pinkish hue over the vast lands of the deserts and forests of sumeru while the branches of the great tree framed the sight perfectly. scaramouche found himself mimicking you, with his hands on the railing, almost touching your own, the only distance between your bodies caused by his hat.

"how is it?" he asks, cocking his head towards you. a smug smile laid on his face as if he already knew your answer. "the scenery here should be quite breathtaking."

"it is, very much so," you whisper back, too in awe of the view in front of you to notice just how much he's staring at you.

you, still in your party outfit, hair blowing in the breeze that comes from being so high up, the light gracing your features. while scaramouche has never been one to appreciate the sights before, he can still admit you do look quite nice in this very moment.

still staring ahead of you, you begin to speak once again. "thank you, really, this means a lot to me."

"there's no need to thank me - i see little point in it," he sighs, eyes leaving you for the first time since you got up here.

"this really isn't much to be thanked for, especially compared to the party thrown in you honor."

he sounds disinterested saying this, you almost thought bringing you up here was something he was forced to do, but the fact that he can't meet your eyes tells you otherwise.

"i don't care about how much someone has done for me on my birthday, all the matters is that i spend time with them. like right now, for example."

it's silent for a few seconds, your words processing in his mind.

"i understand," he hums, and he truly thinks he does, because he wouldn't mind coming up here again to spend some time with you in the future.

[ellieswifie]

︿︿ ੈ[ 🕷️ ] ༉‧₊˚✧

warnings: spider-woman!ellie, 18+ mdni, cursing, amazing spiderman references, kissing, pet names (bug girl)(i’m not sorry), pre-smut but no real smut (i know, but i’m still not sorry), just being in love with spider-woman!ellie

authors note: after seeing @cottoncandytomu amazing spiderwoman!ellie post, i immediately fell in love with spider-woman!ellie and needed to write some hcs. this post is entirely just for funzies and all inspiration goes to @cottoncandytomu. also, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing when it comes to hc's so bear with me. hope you enjoy!

˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊•

sfw

spider-woman!ellie who would one hundred percent tell you she's spider-woman before she tells anyone else. she'd be super scared and nervous while she starts talking, but you had secretly known the entire time.

"i've been wanting to get something huge off my chest..." she'd start pacing around the room in her grey sweats and jacket, covering her red and blue suit. you know exactly what she's been wanting to tell you, but you wanted to her her say it. well until she started taking forever to get the words out her mouth. "i don't want you to think i'm crazy but... i'm-" "spider-woman." you'd finished as her eyes grew wide. "i've known for quite a while now."

spider-woman!ellie who wouldn't care that you've known all through your entire friendship. she's more than happy she didn't have to go through the suffering of explaining the entire thing. and if anything it made your "friendship" stronger.

spider-woman!ellie who would hate just calling you her friend. she'd want to swing around the city while you held onto her waist tightly. but with her and her intense bad guy fights, she couldn't risk losing you to any future villains, so she had to protect her feels from you.

spider-woman!ellie who would totally where her worn-down chucks while she was fighting crime. you'd catch her about to leave during a crime scene and just shake your head, staring at her shoes that are bearly hanging on.

she only wears them all the time because you would draw little spiderwebs and heart spiders all over the shoes. it makes her smile like crazy.

spider-woman!ellie who would be cocky as fuck while fighting villains but when it's just you and her out of her suit, she is the quietest and most reversed person ever. one moment she'd be like "got you now!" "what am I too fast for you?" to then a smiling mess in front of you.

spider-woman!ellie who would do just about anything to protect you. if you tried helping her track down a villain, she'd immediately turn down any ideas you brought up that included you being involved. you'd constantly ask why you can't help her and she'd end up confessing her love-sick feelings for you.

"ellie come on," you'd say for just about the tenth time. ellie was sitting in a chair across the room, refilling her web cartridges waiting for a villain call. "i can take full care of myself."

"no i can't risk you getting yourself hurt for me." ellie would mutter, not meeting your eyes. you'd roll your eyes at her response, as she turned away from you in the rolling chair. "why is it that you don't trust me? why is it that you constantly feel the need to protect me-"

"because i love you and every person i love in my life dies for me! and i don't want to lose the last person i care about to some silly villain chase. so no, you're not coming." she'd confess, as you stared blankly into her eyes. her watch would ding, making her tear her mask on, and swing out of your room, leaving the conversation completely unfinished.

spider-woman!ellie who wouldn't talk about the conversation for days. it would be on her mind for hours, but she couldn't risk breaking her friendship with you for her feelings. she'd stop swinging to your house before and after every fight making you want to just crawl into your own skin.

nsfw

spider-woman!ellie who would finally grow the balls to finally talk to you after a huge fight that had her body tattooed in cuts. regardless of whether you guys were on speaking terms or not, she'd only want you to numb the pain and make her scars go away. you'd be scared shitless as she stumbles towards your window, ripping her mask off. you wouldn't even bring up the confession, you two had a week or two ago. you'd help her limp towards your bed, while she struggles out of the suit.

the air would be thick as you roam around your bathroom, trying to keep quiet. ellie would be lying in only her sports bra, watching you walk back into the room, carrying a first aid kit and a chocolate bar.

your eyes would linger on her exposed skin while you settled yourself on the end of the bed, handing her the bar. "here..." you'd mutter. "it'll ease the pain."

spider-woman!ellie who would think she didn't need the damn chocolate bar. she just needed you. she only needed you ever.

spider-woman!ellie who would whine and struggle out of your grasp as you run a wet towel along her stomach. your nose would scrunch at the pain you know your causing her, so you remove the towel, looking into her eyes. ellie's breathing would be heavy as you reposition yourself, sitting on her thigh.

you wouldn't stop looking at her eyes as you place the towel back on her wounded scar. she'd gunt at the instant contact, but her eyes wounded leave yours. "shhh." you'd hush her, looking back down at her exposed skin. "i know it hurts but just focus on me.."

spider-woman!ellie who would read the entire thing wrong. her eyes would meet down to look at you dressed in only a tank top and short pajama shorts. it was as if suddenly all the pain she'd been feeling vanished in seconds. her eyes remained on your face when you looked back up at her.

your hand removed from her bleeding wound and rested on her thigh while you guys held eye contact. you could feel your words cloud up in your throat when ellie leaned closer to your face.

spider-woman!ellie who would raise her hand to remove a strain of loose hair out your face, while her face moved closer to yours. your hands would trail up her body, stopping to rest on her chest. "your hands are so soft..." ellie muttered, closing her eyes at your light touch.

you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle, before turning back on your serious face when ellie opened her eyes, lips not too far from yours.

spider-woman!ellie who would jump from under you when two light knocks come from your locked bedroom door. you both turned toward the door before you'd climb off her thigh to open the door, where ellie wasn't in the frame.

"dad! hey is everything alright?" you'd say, looking back at ellie for a quick second before looking back at your dad. "yeah just thought i heard talking." he'd mutter, making the hairs on your skin shoot up. "anyways, your mother and i are headed to bed, you should probably do the same. good night."

you'd simply just nod your head, shut the door, and turn back to ellie, who is now standing by your bed. your eyebrows were drawn together as ellie stood there, the top half of her suit still unzipped.

spider-woman!ellie who would now feel embarrassed for showing up here at such an inappropriate time. she'd begin getting her mask and shoes back on and you'd stand across the room just watching her.

"what are you doing? you can't just go swing back outside. you're still bleeding." you'd say stepping back towards her.

"i shouldn't even came-" ellie stutters, but when you move to place a hand on her face, she immediately shuts up. you both fall silent just staring at each other.

spider-woman!ellie who would mutter a quick "fuck it" before smashing her lips against yours, making you let out a soft moan.

spider-woman!ellie who would smirk at the soft sounds you're making from her touch. she'd nudge you two back towards the bed, but yelp when you fall against her injured chest. you gasped and removed your lips quickly, lifting off her slightly. ellies head fell back onto the mattress laughing slightly, making you cover your mouth with your hand.

"oh my god, are you okay?!" you inquired, trying to lean off her, but ellie would wrap her hands around your hips, trapping you in place.

"i’m fine," she’d smile, looking at your face red with embarrassment. you'd hid your face into her neck, smiling. "but maybe we should take things a little slow, yeah?"

spider-woman!ellie who would clearly doesn't know what taking things slow means and no surprise to you, you don't either.

spider-woman!ellie who would swing by your house after every villain fight just to make out with you for hours after your first kiss. her suit would be unzipped, exposing her hard nipples poking out of her sports bra, while you remained fully clothed, rolling your hips slowly on her thigh.

you’d be in this position for what felt like forever before you’d try to take things to the next level, but ellie would quickly stop and make some silly excuse. "let’s wait til i take you out on a date." or "do you hear that?"

spider-woman!ellie who would insist on taking you swinging for your first date. you wanted to just go out to dinner and hang out back at your house, but when she convinces you to sing around the city then have a nice dinner on a high up building planned by non other than ellie williams, you can’t help but forget all about the boring dinner.

you guys chat for hours about anything, just enjoying each other’s presence before she’d swing you around once more.

spider-woman!ellie who would have her phone in her hands texting you mid battle. regardless of how much she could put herself in danger, she makes she to answer all your texts and calls.

"hey babe where are you right now?" you’d say then hear sirens and gun shots in the background. "ellie are you-" "nowhere babe! what’s up?”

spider-woman!ellie who would love doing the spiderman kiss with you regardless of where you were. you’d be walking down the street and shed pop out of nowhere upside down, tearing her mask up just above her mouth, ready for her kiss.

"you seriously need to stop popping up on me." you’d smile, stepping closer to her lips. ellie’s nose would scrunch in the cutest way before pressing her lips to yours. "i just miss you all the time."

spider-woman!ellie who would crawl into your arms just always wanting to feel you close because it tells her you are safe. she'd lay in your arms telling you about her day and the past bad guys she'd fought, while you rub her hair and tell her how much you love her.

spider-woman!ellie who would love the pet names. the moment you call her bug girl, she'll be crawling at your skin wanting you all to herself.

"careful bug girl.." you mumbled, as ellie's hands met the waistband of your sweats. her eyebrows raised at the pet name turning her on even more than the hot wet spot building in her boxers.

"what did you just call me?" she'd smirk, dipping her hands quicker down past your underwear. "bug girl." you replied, gasping when ellie's fingers found your core. "say that again." little did you know you'd be moaning the nickname the rest of the night.

spider-woman!ellie who would forever do anything that makes you happy and do whatever you want.

sigh. we all need a spider-woman!ellie.

[06sunnybunny06]

Part 2 (Aren't we friends?)

♡♡♡♡

The next morning, when the sun was just rising above the horizon. You went on a treasure hunt. Why Child could control you so easily by playing his weird games. He seems to be quite good and looks like a good guy. It's just that Childe is your friend. That's the whole conversation.

The ancient map of Li Yue differs significantly from the modern one. Many buildings, at the moment, have turned into ruins. There may be a whole story behind a broken column. In fact, you are now watching the ghosts of the past. It would be interesting to move back in time and compare "before" and "after".

Come to think of it, you've never traveled outside of Li Yue. Before that, your home was a small village, hidden from prying eyes. The parents weren't bad, they just tried, as if they were hiding from something. The villagers loved to live the old-fashioned way. Thanks to them, you had a good childhood, but one question haunted you all the time.- "Why live in such a wilderness if there is a big city nearby?". No one tried to answer. You were greeted only with meaningful stares, as if you were asking stupid questions. As someone who grew up in the wilderness, far from crowded places, you wanted to see a different life. In the city, everything was different: the houses were tall, the rhythm of life was faster, even the people were completely different. My parents didn't really approve of the decision to move, but there was nothing they could do.

- Okay, we didn't break up on the best note, but so that we wouldn't even send a single letter all the time? And what is that supposed to mean?! Did they just forget about me?!

While unpleasant thoughts were wandering in my head. There was a crunch a few steps away. You were hiding behind the trees nearby without thinking. No matter how beautiful nature and ancient structures are, this world is still dangerous. Any evil spirits can appear from anywhere.

Two figures appeared in the distance, looking like masked soldiers. If one of them is a little taller than you, then the other is quite huge. They also seem to be armed. The first one has a gun sticking out behind his back, and the second one has a gun...what is it? A huge hammer?! Just don't tell me that these are the fatuis that are not pleasant rumors about.

"How long do we have to stay here?" - you flinched when one of them started grumbling.

- Until the harbingers finish their work in Li Yue. Our task is to look for traitors, if you haven't forgotten.

A heavy sigh followed. - "Our work is hard in itself. You can simply be sent to another country and not be brought up to date for a long time. Some stay because they are simply forgotten! Fatuis are not liked by everyone anyway. What should we do then? Wait for the locals to devour?"

The soldier with the hammer turned his head. "Watch your mouth. If anyone finds out, you will be executed on the spot. Submission to the Queen is the law. It's better not to say too much."

- And yet I feel sorry for these people. They lived as if they didn't exist. Oh, I would also like to settle in a quiet village to meet my old age in peace, but that's all.

The second soldier nodded. - "Yes..."

- Considering who our boss is, we're not going to get it. They say he's a real psycho.

Their voices could be heard for some time, until they completely subsided behind the dense foliage. After waiting for some more time, you got out of your hiding place. Everything seems to be calm. They're gone. It was eerily scary to even move. Who knows what they are capable of?

You've looked around the area again. The map shows the way from point A to point B and nothing superfluous. It seems that you are close to your "treasures". Whatever it is.

As the journey continued, the familiar surroundings attracted attention. You've seen this place before. I'm just remembering when it was. "This can't be happening." - The legs walked faster. A familiar sight opened up on the hill. It was your native village. Is this really the destination? You were already suffocating from the strain. Childe couldn't have known about this place…

When you went downstairs, the familiar house of an elderly woman appeared around the corner. She used to look after you when your parents were away on business. Today she has been dead for a long time. Someone had to occupy an empty house. But there wasn't a soul on the street. The wind walked alone between the houses, leaving a void in its wake. Now you're really scared.

You found yourself near your house. It became so quiet that even the creaking of the stairs underfoot seemed like a thunderclap. When the hand reached for the handle, the door opened quietly. The house is not only empty, but also as if no one has lived here for a long time. Mom would never have allowed such a layer of dust, knowing her cleanliness.

You were trying to find at least some signs of life with your eyes when you noticed a piece of paper lying on the table. It seemed to have been placed in a prominent place on purpose. The piece of paper was quickly in your hands. A message was written in it:

"Hello, my dear. Congratulations to you! You've won our little game! I would like to see your smile, but there were some difficulties, so I couldn't come in person. I'm sorry, and I promise, this is the last time! A gift is waiting for you in your room!

With love, your friend is Childe.

You were in shock. How the hell does he know?! How does he know this place? Where are all the residents, and most importantly, where are your parents?!

The head turned towards the door. A little girl used to grow up behind her. The walls of the room remember a lot of emotions - from loud laughter to bitter tears. There was a small box with a bow on the bed. His hands trembled as he opened it. There was a silver ring inside. It wasn't just a decoration. It belonged to your mother. Fingers gently pulled it out of the box. Something else was born. Tears rolled down your cheeks when you noticed the dried maroon spots. The legs immediately rushed to the exit. Maybe they were running away from something, or it was all a bad dream. In the morning you will wake up in a cold sweat, not thinking about him anymore.

When you ran out of the house, a sharp pain pierced your head. The unconscious body collapsed to the ground. You distinctly heard someone say the word "damn." The tears continued to flow until my mind completely shut down.

You woke up in a dark room. Although there was a lamp on the bedside table, some dark areas were still difficult to see. The pain was sharp in the back of the head. You tried to sit up when a familiar voice rang out. "Are you finally awake?"

Your body is numb. It was Childe. He was waiting for your answer. You could barely squeeze out a couple of sentences in a painful voice. - "Yes. My head hurts terribly."

The guy almost purred when he heard your voice. So you're more than okay. "One of my soldiers underestimated his strength. He hit you on the head, but don't worry. I punished him personally." He sighed, suppressing his anger. Some fool dared to harm you. Tartaglia made it clear that you needed to be caught and disabled, not knocked out with all your might. Fortunately, he is no longer a tenant.

- A soldier? "there are memories behind the transparent veil. How did you come to an empty village, how did you find your mother's ring in the house..."

His right hand rose involuntarily, revealing a silver ornament on his index finger. You've always admired him. The image of the snowflake accurately conveyed the connection with its owner. Your mother, like you, had the vision of a Cryo. There was a midnight jade in the core, which shone with a blue light in the dark. My father gave it to me for their anniversary. This time it was completely clean.

- Why do I have my mother's ring on my finger?

Chade shuddered. He sighed heavily, sitting down next to her on the bed.

- The fact is that... I don't think there's any point in lying to you. Since you're in danger, it's better to find out everything at once.

You looked at him expectantly as he began his story.

"I am the eleventh harbinger of Fatua, and it is my duty to do the Queen's will. She is the ruler of the Snow Kingdom. Each fatui must take an oath of allegiance, entrusting his life to her. If the oath is not fulfilled for one reason or another, the person will die. Those who shirk their duty become traitors and face the same fate. I have nothing against your parents, but they were previously from Fatua, and I think you know how it ended....

You didn't believe his words. More precisely, they didn't reach you. - "No. This is your stupid joke again, isn't it? Are you lying to me as always?" "You didn't even notice yourself when you started crying again. Everything fits together very well. The puzzle is coming together. Their caution was always infuriating. It seemed to you that a free person should be happy and not be afraid of anything. But they were trapped in their fears from the very beginning. The Fatuis were hunting for them. As a result, they are no more. And whose fault is it? "Are they dead? Did you kill them?"

Childe began to shake his head negatively. "I wouldn't dare. You know, I have a family myself..."

You sobbed, burying your face in the blanket. What's going to happen now? How to live with the thought of the death of your family now. You didn't even have time to say goodbye.…

Childe hugged you. His heart hurt more with every tear that fell out of your eyes. If there was an option not to cripple your psyche..

- You know, I helped you with something.

You lifted your head, wiping away the remnants of your tears. - "What are you talking about?"

"You would have suffered the same fate if I hadn't intervened. The authorities wanted to get rid of all the recalcitrants, but you were not in Fatui when they escaped.

You nodded, and the guy smiled with satisfaction. "I have an idea. In order not to attach you to this dangerous organization as another unfortunate soldier. So I decided to marry you.....Ta-da!"

Your eyes widened and stared at him, but Childe continued. "The Queen has approved our marriage. It turns out that you were born in Snezhnaya. This means that it will be right to return you to the embrace of your native land. My family is waiting for my return. They will be glad to meet you."

"Are you saying that our marriage is my salvation?"

The guy nodded. "I personally buried your parents in another place. It seemed to me that it would be better than lying in a mass grave. Your mother's ring will be our bond. It will be difficult to accept their death, but nothing can be done. I'll be there to help you deal with everything."

You were grateful for his help. Although this is not the life you planned, it's still better than serving a dangerous organization.

Your face brightened, and you nodded approvingly. Childe could barely restrain himself from grabbing you and kissing you. He must not spoil this moment. Everything is going too well.

"I'd like to see the graves." I need to say goodbye to them at least like that.

Tartaglia nodded at your wish. -"Of course dear. You need to visit them so they don't worry about you. Then you will definitely be free." - He took you in his arms again. This is the best day of his life, and it will be even better when you get married....

[measuredingold]

fallingforyou

authors note: finally finished this folio piece i've been working on for about two weeks!!! i enjoyed writing this a lot and wish i had wrote it a bit longer, but i'm trying to work on not writing as much for short one-shots (unless you guys like longer writing!) as always enjoy and feedback is appreciated :)

pairing: nick folio x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 4.8k

cw/tags: friends to lovers, p in v, unprotected sex (be safe!!!!! wrap it up folks!!!), fluff, nick being a sweetie, drinking/alcohol consumption, 18+ minors do not interact

The whiskey hit the back of his throat with a burn. Nick's face scrunches up in displeasure as he swallows it down, body tingling from the alcohol. He didn't expect himself to end up here, but his friends wanted his first few nights at home to be exciting. His friends told him he’d have enough time to sleep later. He had been touring almost for five months straight, and the thought of getting the next almost three months off was pure heaven to him. 

Someone next to him called for another round of shots, probably whiskey again, and Nick had to say a prayer to himself before bringing his beer bottle up to his lips. He cleansed his palette, which is hilarious when he realizes he's doing it with more alcohol, but it tastes better than the whiskey his buddies have been pounding down for the last hour. 

"So, Folio," One of them said, leaning towards him across the table. "Meet anyone special out on the road?"

He snorts, head shaking. "Nah, man. Barely had any time." 

"Seriously?" Another one says. "Thought you'd have hundreds of people throwing themselves at your feet."

"We're not like that, dude." Nick responds, a tipsy laugh tumbling from his lips. "I mean, don't get me wrong - we've hooked up with people before but," He shrugs. "We're kind of really boring."

"You? Boring?" His friend across from him snorted, throwing his head back in laughter. "Dude, you were fucking crazy in high school."

"Yeah. High school." Nick rolls his eyes. "I'm 26. I'm old, man, I can't keep up anymore."

The table breaks out in mumbled agreement. It's clear that they're all getting older, and things aren't how they used to be, and Nick kind of likes it that way. Yeah, he likes to party, he fucking loves to drink, and a hook-up here and there is nice every once in a while. It just doesn’t do much for him anymore.

He likes to take it slow; he likes exploring with his friends when they’re in a city they’ve never been to before, and he really likes to sleep. A lot. Jetlag is a bitch and the more you fight it, the more screwed you’re going to be. Trust him, he knows.

The conversation switches and Nick’s only half listening, eyes scanning the bar to see if there’s anyone he may know here. It’s a long shot, because most of the people he knows is already here with him, but he looks anyways.

His eyes find you before you ever find him. 

You look as beautiful as ever and the smile adorn on your lips has Nick's stomach turning in a way he hasn't felt in ages. Probably since the last time he saw you. You met in high school and became somewhat friends, you had been dating a buddy of his, he eventually dated a friend of yours at one point, and so on and so forth. You were always around, and he liked it.

He had seen you at a wedding last summer, no date just like him, and the two of you had spoken for hours that night as if no time had passed. It was nice, but he won't forget the ache in his heart when you called it a night. He walked you out to your car and you had left him with a kiss on his cheek and a playful threat of fighting him if he doesn't text you the next time he's in town.

He never did.

Your eyes finally catch his and something crosses your face, but he can't quite put his finger on what it is exactly. He's nervous, scared you'll be upset with him for not letting you know he's home - and for a while at that - but your lips are stretching into an even wider smile and his shoulders relax. 

"Look what the cat dragged in." You say, a teasing grin settling on your lips as you walk up to his table. He smiles up at you.

"Long time no see, stranger." 

"And who's fault is that?" You tease before sliding in the empty chair beside him. He's sure his buddy can find another place to sit.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" Your head tilts, feigning innocence. "I'm not the one who promised to tell me the next time they'll be in town."

He gives you a sheepish look, leaning away from you as he slumped back into his seat. "You got me there."

You smile at him now, a real one, and place a hand on his arm.

"Hey," You say softly, "I was just joking. I know you're busy flying around the world being a fucking badass. I'd probably forget, too."

"I won't forget next time. Swear." Nick holds his pinky up for emphasis and you immediately wrap your own around his. He smiles. "Plus, I'm home even longer now."

Your brows quirk up in interest. "Oh?"

"Mhm." Your pinkies are still wrapped around each other's, and his gaze drops down to them before looking back up. "Almost three months. You're gonna be sick of me."

"Holy shit." Your eyes widen. "Finally gonna take me out to lunch then, huh?"

His brows scrunch together in confusion before realization dawns on him. He laughs, unwrapping his pinky from around yours to bring his hand up to run through his hair.

"How the hell do you remember that?"

It was yet another promise he made at that wedding last summer, when the two of you had sat by each other at the reception. A few beers in, feeling a bit tipsy and a lot brave, Nick had brought up one of his favorite lunch spots at home. You'd never been there before, only heard of it in passing, and he had told you he'd take you there the next time he was in town. His treat, he had said.

"You promised!"

His pauses for a moment, eyes locked on yours and he can't help but smile to himself. You're seriously the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes on, he decides right then and there. 

"Looks like I'll be taking you out then."

Before you could reply, Nick’s buddy is back with shots and handing them out to everyone at the table. He groans to himself when one finds its way into his hand, and he gives you a look. You’re already laughing.

“What? Can’t do shots anymore?”

“Dude, this is like my 4th one. I’m not sure how many more I can take.”

His friends held one out to you, brow raised as an offering. You take it.

“Here,” You turn your body towards Nick, holding the shot glass out. ”I’ll take one with you. Only one,” With your free hand you hold one finger up, lips curling into a smile. “Still gotta get my ass home.”

Nick groans again. “I wish I had that excuse. My buddy drove me here, so now I’m literally forced to drink.”

“Oh, you poor baby. Whatever shall you do?”

He rolls his eyes but knows his cheeks are heating up, the term of endearment getting to him. The table cheers in unison and he clinks his glass against yours before bringing it to his lips. You keep eye contact as you do the same, and the both of you swallow down the shot. You make a face first, visibly shaking, and then Nick follows, laughter soon escaping him.

“Holy shit, that was terrible.” You cough and Nick only laughs harder.

“Who can’t take shots now?”

You glare at him, though he knows there’s no malice behind it. “Watch it, Folio.”

He’s already feeling good, the alcohol slowly getting to him, and he leans into your space.

“Or what?”

You pause, gazing into his eyes. His heart thuds against his chest when he watched your eyes drop to his lips but in a split second they’re back on his, and you lean forward.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

This cat and mouse game between the two of you has been going on for years now, but Nick was too scared to make the first move. You were friends, who’ve been kind of flirting for years, and he’s seriously thought about kissing you ever since junior year. It’s crazy how he hasn’t… yet.  

“Actually, I think I would.” His arm settles around the back of your chair, but he doesn’t touch you.

You don’t budge, holding his steady gaze, but Nick can see the flush beginning to form on your cheeks. You don’t respond and he tilts his head, giving you a pointed look, and before he could say anything that could get him in trouble his friend is shouting across the table.

"Folio!" The both of you turn your focus to his friend, and Nick's brows furrow together. "You guys wanna play?"

He holds up a pool stick and Nick grins before looking back at you, raising a brow in question. 

"You wanna?"

"I don't know," You say with a shrug, your lips already curling at the end. "You any good?"

"Oh, sweetheart." He coos softly. "I'm the best damn pool player in Maryland."

"Is that so?" Nick nods proudly and your lips stretch into a grin in which he returns, and you push your chair back. "Well, isn't it my lucky day?”

"It sure is." He pushes his own chair back and stands up. "I hope you're ready to kick some ass."

It wasn't too hard to beat Nick's friends, them being a bit too intoxicated to really take the game seriously. It also helped that he was actually good at pool, not fibbing to make himself seem cooler in front of you. You were a pretty decent partner too, getting a few balls down yourself, and when the two of you came out triumphant for the third time in a row, Nick didn't stop himself from wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side.

"We make a pretty good team, huh?" 

You look up at him and smile prettily, and it has Nick's stomach turning, and lean into his touch. "I say we do, Folio."

A few more rounds, all won by your team, the group finally decided to call it a night. Nick walks you out to your car, telling his friend who drove him here that he'll be back in a second. He was a gentleman, so of course he'd make sure you made it back to your car safe. He also wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, chest already heavy at the thought.

"You free Friday?" Nick shoves his hands in his pocket, tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "We could get lunch then. If you'd like."

You look up at him through your lashes and he feels his heart thud sporadically against his chest, but he tries to play it cool. 

"I'd like that a lot." You say softly.

"Cool. I'll actually text you this time." He teases and you laugh, and it sounds like music to his ears. 

Nick watches as you pull your bottom lip in between your teeth, trying to keep your smile from spreading. His body warms at that, and he finds it becoming hard to look away from your mouth and the curve of your lips, wondering what they would feel like pressed against his own. He finally gazes back up to find you staring at him intently, brows furrowed as if you're in deep thought.

"What's going on up in that head of yours?"

"Tell me if I'm crossing any lines here." You rub your hands nervously together, “I kind of don’t want tonight to end just yet… I really like talking to you.”

His cheeks flush. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You smile, all shy and cute and it has Nick wanting to reach out and kiss you right then and there. “Do you… want to come back to my place? To hang out. Me and you.”

His eyes widen. Oh. You’re asking him to go back to your place, alone, and even though you could very well just want to talk, it still has his body heating up.

“Oh.” He says dumbly, still in shock.

"Fuck. Did I read this wrong?" You begin to panic, your cheeks heating up with color. Nick notices immediately and is quick to shake his head, eyes widening.

"No! I mean," He clears his throat, giving you a bashful smile. "Um. No. I don't think you read this wrong at all."

He catches your eyes and sees you visibly relax, but the flush to your cheeks deepens. 

"Oh." You drop your head, hair falling in your face to hide your burning cheeks. Nick can't stop himself from smiling. "Really?"

"Yes, really." He laughs. "I like hanging out with you. I always have."

He hasn't had a sip of alcohol since the shot the two of you took together hours ago and he knows he can't blame this bravery on that, but he likes to think that maybe there's still some liquid courage coursing through his veins. You look up again, a shy smile on your lips.

"So, you’re saying it wouldn't be too crazy to ask you to come home with me?" You ask softly. 

Your words have Nick's body tingling, excitement running through him. He's not sure what you mean exactly, and maybe you seriously just want to hang out more and talk - in which he's completely okay with - but there was a look in your eyes, something he caught the last time he was with you, and his stomach turned again.

"Not crazy at all." His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip one more time before looking off to the side to hide the growing smile on his lips. "Let me just... Let me go tell him you'll be taking me home, okay? I'll be right back."

You nod, still smiling prettily, and he watches you get into your car. He turns to find his friend leaned up against his car a few spots down already staring at him, brows raised in question.

"Uh, I think she's taking me home tonight."

It takes a moment for the words to settle, his friend’s eyes widening. "No fucking way."

"Not like that!" Nick's quick to get out, but he knows he's lying. It's definitely like that. "We're just catching up."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be catching up alright." His friend teases and Nick rolls his eyes.

"Dude. Shut up."

Nick waves him off as they both say their goodbyes and he made his way back to your car. He takes a deep breath before getting in, giving you a smile while he buckled himself in.

“Ready?” You question, already putting your car in reverse.

Nick settles back against the seat, getting himself comfortable, and nods.

...

The two of you sit across from each other on your couch, beers in hand as Nick goes on another story about his recent travels. You had been the one to ask him, curious about what life is like on the road, and with the alcohol still coursing through his veins it was pretty hard for Nick to stop talking.

"...Sorry," He lets out sheepishly, head dipping down to hide his blush. "I'm probably boring you."

"No!" You quickly get out; your cheeks now flushed a light crimson shade. "No, it's fine. I like hearing your stories."

"Yeah?" He lifts his head up and gives you a smile, which you return easily.

"Of course. It's so exciting to hear about all the places you've been," You pull your legs up onto the couch and rest them underneath you. "I also just like hearing you talk."

"So, what you’re telling me is that you like my voice?”

"Mhm." You nod. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” 

Nick looks at you, and your eyes meet, and he feels the world kind of... stop. He can't even blame this on the beer, because even with the alcohol flowing through him, he's always thought you were beautiful. Especially your eyes, a shade of green he wasn't familiar with, all round and pretty and welcoming. 

"I don't think I've ever told you this," His fingers grip around the glass bottle in his hands and he shifts on the couch, subsequently moving closer to you, "but I think you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen."

This catches you off guard and you laugh, light and airy, and Nick loved the way your eyes crinkled. Your face flushes a deeper shade of pink, probably from the alcohol mixed with the unusual compliment, and he smiles. 

"No, you've never told me that." You say once your laughter has died down, eyes landing back on him. "Thank you, Nick."

"Of course."

A pleasant silence falls between the two of you and he's just noticed how close you were, your legs pressing against each other. He tries to ignore the way his heart hammers against his chest, and he sucks in a breath when your hand comes down to rest against his thigh. He drops his gaze to your fingers before flicking them back up to yours, and you’re already staring, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

Nobody moves for a solid minute, just the two of you staring at each other to see who makes the first move. Nick doesn’t miss the way your eyes dropped to his lips like they had in the parking lot, the way your chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and he leans over to grab the beer bottle still secure in your free hand but surely forgotten. You don’t say anything when he places both your forgotten bottles on the coffee table beside the couch before turning back to face you, shifting his body closer to yours.

He places a hand against yours that still rests against his thigh, and your fingers easily slide in between his own. He looks down at them, smiling softly at the way your hands fit together almost perfectly before he feels your hand underneath his chin, tilting his head up.

“Wait.” He says suddenly when he feels the two of you start to lean in, lips barely inches apart. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Nick,” You huff out, your hand now moving to cup the side of his face. He leans into the touch immediately. “I don’t think you understand how badly I want this.”

He laughs. “Oh, babe. I think I do.”

You lean in closer now, nose brushing against his and if he just tilted his head down just right your lips would be touching. His stomach swirls with butterflies and squeezes your hand that’s still in his.

“Then kiss me.”

Fuck it.

He tilts his head down, capturing your lips against his own. You let out a noise, something mixed of a sigh and a whine, and your hand squeezes his. Your lips moved together slowly, unsure, before Nick released his grip on your hand to reach up and cup your face. He was determined now, tongue darting out to swipe at your bottom lip, and you made another noise. It went straight through him, body buzzing in excitement at this newfound territory that he didn’t want to lose just yet.

You pull away, only to your shirt off of your body, and then you’re leaning back against the couch, pulling Nick with you. He follows, the two of your shifting around for him to easily slide in between your legs before his lips are back against yours and with a purpose.

You feel soft in his hold, and the way your body pressed against his was something he’s never experienced before. His hands shook as they gripped your hips, rolling his flush against yours, and the sound you let escape was heavenly. He groans, his cock hardening with each roll of your hips and he has to pull away to catch his breath.

He looks down at you, your eyes hooded, and lips parted, and he has to bite down on his lip to hold in the groan that’s threatening to escape. You look so fucking beautiful underneath him, the fucked-out expression you wore on your face is something he’s never going to forget, tucking it into the back of his mind for another time. He sits up to remove his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room and you’re already shimmying out of your jeans, kicking them off.

“Eager much?” He teases, though he’s a little breathless at the sight of you only in your underwear. He’s already messing with the zipper of his jeans before you even respond.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s why I’m trying to do here, darlin’.”

A whine pulls out from deep in your chest and it goes straight to Nick’s already achingly hard cock, and he’s quick to rid himself of his jeans. He’s on you again in seconds, lips finding yours again as he finds solitude in between your thighs. He rolls his hips down and moans against yours lips, the feeling of your clothed and already damp core against his cock has his mind going hazy for a second or two.

“Fuck,” He grunts out, pulling away again briefly. “Do you have a condom? I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.”

Your arms move to wrap around his neck, pulling him back down to you. “I’m on the pill, and I don’t think I’m patient enough to dig around for one. I need you now.”

His cock twitches at your words.

“Are you sure?”

“Nick.” You groan this time, annoyed, and you nip at his bottom lip before pulling back, head pressing back against the arm of the couch. He sucks in a breath when your eyes meet. “I trust you. And if I’m being honest, if you’re not inside me in the next ten fucking seconds I will lose my goddamn mind.”

Nick lets out a surprised laugh and your cheeks flush. He sits up to pull his boxers down and watches you shimmy your underwear down, sitting up briefly to remove your bra before falling back on the couch. He settles back in between your legs, lifting them up to wrap around his waist.

“Demanding little thing, huh?” His voice is low as he wraps a hand around his aching cock, the tip glaringly red as he gives himself a few strokes. “I like it.”

You keen at his words, eyes fluttering shut and he has to collect himself and not pound into you immediately. He takes his time, though, slowly sliding the tip up and down your already soaked folds. The moan that rips from you the second he pushes in has something beneath his chest twisting, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering around wildly.

He’s not even all the way in but you already feel incredible, your cunt clenching around him as you take him inch by inch. He’s sure by the scrunch of your face and the way your nails dig into his forearms that the stretch isn’t the most pleasant, and he leans over, fluttering kisses around your face.

“Okay?” He questions, voice already strained. You give a little nod but don’t bother opening your eyes. “Taking me so well already, baby. So fucking good.”

Your whole body flushes at his words and you clench around his length again, and Nick’s vision blurs briefly. He’s not sure how he’s going to last longer than thirty seconds at this point. He sucks in a deep breath when he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flushed against yours, and you whine.

He stills, worry rushing through him. “Feel alright?”

You finally open your eyes, lids heavy and gaze hazy, and give another nod of your head.

“Mhm. Just feel…” You whimper out, hips wiggling down before you gasp. “So full.”

“You feel fucking incredible.” He groans out, forehead pressing against yours. Your arms reach up to wrap around his neck and he kisses you, soft and gentle. “Tell me when I can move.”

“Move.” You whine, hips wiggling again. “Please move, baby.”

The first roll of his hips has you moaning out, but Nick swallows it with another kiss. His hands roam over your body as you move together and he feels you shudder in his hold as he gives a rather deep roll of his hips, gasping out his name softly. He can’t help but whine into your mouth, wanting to make you say his name over and over and over again. It sounded like you were meant to say it, all pretty and fucked out, nails now digging into his shoulders as he picks up speed.

He reaches down between the two of you, pressing calloused fingers against your throbbing clit and rubs circles in time with his thrusts. You throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as a low, deep moan falls from your now swollen lips, and Nick leans forward and presses open mouthed kisses along your exposed neck, his thrusts or fingers not letting up.

“Nick…” You whimper out, nails digging even further into his shoulders that he’s sure there will be a mark tomorrow. He’ll be surprised if you don’t break. “Fuck.”

“I love when you say my name.” He groans against your neck and gives another deep roll of his hips, causing your back to arch off the couch. “You close, baby? Tell me what to do, wanna make you feel good.”

You moan. “Keep doing what you’re doing, please. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t, continuing to rub your swollen clit in time with his thrusts, your cunt clenching around him so tightly he almost forgets how to fucking breathe. You feel other worldly, like something he’s never experienced before, and he swears he sees fucking stars the second he feels your cunt clench around him one last time. You come with a shout of his name, body shaking under him as your orgasm spread throughout your body.

He moans, pressing his face against your neck as he chases his own high, and he somehow remembers to pull out, fisting his cock and giving it a few sharp tugs before he spills all over your stomach. His chest rises and falls heavy with each breath he took, hair falling in his face as he tries to come back to earth. He looks down at you and his heart skips a beat, as cliché as it sounds, at the fucked out grin on your lips.

Nick can’t help himself and he leans down, lips catching your own in the most tender kiss he can muster up at the moment.

“Where’s your bathroom?” He questions once he pulls away, moving some hair out of your, and tsks softly when you try to push him back and sit up. “No, no, no. Stay here. I got it.”

You pause, peering up at him before you slowly lay back down. “Down the hall, first door to the left.”

Nick pulls himself up from the couch with a groan, eyes scanning the room to find his boxers before he reaches down for them and puts them on. It doesn’t take him more than a minute to get to the bathroom and find something to wipe you off with, and he comes back into the living room to find you right where he left you. He wipes up the mess he made on your stomach and is gentle in between your legs, lips curling in a slight smirk at the way you squirmed when he did so.

You’re quiet when you finally stand from the couch, searching for you shirt. He can’t help but watch, the curves of your body forever embedded in his mind, and his eyes linger when he notices the bottom of your shirt barely covers your ass. You turn to look at him, cheeks still flushed, but you wore an expression as if you were in deep thought. He thought it was the cutest thing ever, his lips tugging into a smile.

“What?” He questions, leaning back against the couch. You shrug, a smile slowly creeping onto your own lips.

“…Would it be crazy to ask you to stay the night?”

His smile only widens at your words, heart thudding against his chest.

“As long as you let me buy you breakfast in the morning.”

“Breakfast and lunch?” You reach out for him, and he lets you tug him up from the couch, lacing your fingers together as you drag him towards your bedroom. “Sounds almost as if you like me or something, Folio.”

“Maybe I do.”

You pause in the doorway, looking up at him with wide, pretty eyes and he doesn’t stop himself from leaning down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You giggle when he pulls away and tug him into your room.

“It’s a date.”

[greeenchrysanthemums]

@thatlesbainmushroom and @jjlovesgoodies (hope you don't mind the tags, I was not sure how else to make sure you seen this<3) both said yes to hearing about my roomies zombie au, so here it is!! Though, I must admit that it is more of a half-baked idea than a fully thought out au. I'm not sure if I will ever actually write it, so it's free game with credit.

I suppose a TW is required before you read any further. It is a zombie au, so it is pretty grim. Mentions of death, blood, injury, and other apocalypse typical things.

Etho and Cleo were college roommates before everything went to shit. Cleo was a graphic design and arts student in her fourth year, while Etho was an engineering student in his second year. They have been together since the start, and were actually in their dorm room when the chaos started. Bdubs used to be with them, but they lost track of him (and his horse) months ago. They assume he is dead.

Grian was a first year architect student from a few towns over. His group consisted of his roommates, Jimmy and Joel, along with his work friend, Scar.

None of them had ever used a gun before the apocalypse, so it is none of their preferred weapon. Cleo has a baseball bat, Grian has a knife, and Etho has a machete. Etho and Grian both carry handguns but rarely use them. Cleo knows how to use a gun but does not carry one and would have to be in mortal danger to be convinced to use it.

Cleo is immune to the bite, something they found out at the beginning because a classmate had bitten her and she never turned. Though, this immunity would not hold any narrative weight. The world has fallen apart, there wouldn't be anyone left to try to find a cure from her anyway. They are just focused on surviving and trying to keep each other safe.

However, because of her immunity, she does take risks that Etho doesn't/can't. She used to be a real softy, not much a fighter who was all bark no bite, but she would do anything to protect Etho. She has many scars, from bites and scratches, because of this reckless behavior.

It would start with Grian having just been separated from his group and he's been wandering around the remains of a big city looking for them. He eventually gets overwhelmed by a hoard and ends up cornered in an alley, where he is then saved by Etho, who kills the zombies and offers to bring him back to his camp.

Grian says no and tells him he has to keep looking for his group, but Etho is persistent. Grian caves and agrees to go with him when Etho offers to help look for his missing friends; no strings attached.

The group traverses the remains of the burning world together for several months looking for Grian's group and slowly getting to know each other. Etho and Cleo share information freely, but Grian is more reserved. He only answers simple questions about his past. They barley know anything about this group they are trying to find. Instead of opening up as the months' pass by, he actually becomes more and more reserved.

He keeps asking why they keep helping him when they have no obligation to do so, especially since he's given them next to no information or reason to trust him, and they say why not? They don't have anything better to do than lend him a helping hand.

Grian leads them more and more northwest as time goes on, telling them that he was told to head in this direction to meet back up with his group, but still, they find no trace of them.

Around 6-7 months into traveling together, the group do a supply run in a mall that they thought was safe and end up getting trapped inside with no way out after Grian brings some kind of a display/structure down on top of himself on accident and it attracts a hoard that was hidden away out of sight.

They are very low on ammo, Etho was bit while getting Grian out from under the display, Grian was injured by the accident, and they're all too exhausted and malnourished to fight. They make it into a staff area, but there's no exit that they see, so they barricade the door. It is only a matter of time before the hoard breaks through.

Sitting inside of the small room, Grian admits to them that his group was already dead and had been for a while. He tells them that he had actually been ready to die that day Etho found him. He felt bad letting Etho's kindness (which was a rarity in this dying world) go to waste, so he went along with it.

He was just along for the ride at first, leading them on a wild goose chase while waiting for a chance to leave them, but then he grew to care for them. He never thought he would find friends again in a world like this, but, somehow, he did. They gave him a purpose, a reason to keep going. They made him want to live again. They made him happy. They made him laugh; something so simple and yet so important.

He didn't want them to leave him behind once they found out the truth, so he'd kept lying to them and pretending like he was still searching so that they would have a reason to keep helping him, a reason to have him around.

He was closing himself off all that time in an attempt to hold onto the one good thing in his life. He tells them that he's sorry, that he loves them, and that he's scared.

Cleo and Etho say they don't care that he's been lying, and that he's just as important to them as they are to him. They say that whatever happens next, they'll do it together.

And then in my mind it would end somewhat ambiguously/open ended as the zombie's break through.

[andreal831]

Why do you think Klaus not into Bonnie? It felt like he should have been.

I guess it depends on what you mean by "into" Bonnie.

I personally don't think Klaus would have been romantically into anyone in TVD and anything else was just random fanservice. Klaus had spent a thousand years attempting to undue his curse and 100 years running from his own family. He finally breaks the curse and is reunited with his family, only to do nothing? To sit around town and go to high school dances? This man is over 1,000 years old. I'm sorry, but he's not hanging out in a town with one bar and all the patrons are on vervain.

Klaus is power hungry and finally got all of the power he wanted. Why would he settle down in a small town? In the past, we saw him happiest when he was taking over cities like Chicago and New Orleans. Klaus wasn't in the mind to look for romance, he was looking to reclaim the power he felt was taken from him. Honestly, the only connection in TVD that made sense was "hate-banging" Hayley because there was zero love there. This fits Klaus' character at that time. He was still the man who felt like love was a weakness. Nothing that happened in TVD would have persuaded him overwise. TO had to spend the time and energy to convince him that loving someone else was worth it, something TVD didn't do because he was actively the villain.

Now if you're asking why he wasn't into Bonnie as a Bennett witch, it's cause of bad writing. Klaus loved powerful witches. He needed powerful witches. It would have been a better story line to watch him try to charm Bonnie into helping him (much like he did with Genevieve or Greta). But I can't see Bonnie falling for it and helping him in any shape or form without threats to her family. Even when he did threaten her, she hated him and tried not to help. Klaus was actively murdering people she cared about, torturing her and her friends, and all of his goals went directly against her own. Her mom got caught up in it all and killed. Hell, her mom abandoned her trying to keep Klaus' dad locked up. They were always on the opposite side of things, which would have made a team up hard, but no impossible.

I definitely find it out of character and just bad writing that he wasn't more focused on Bonnie while in town. If they just had to do another pedophilic story of minors getting with 100+ year old men, this would have been the one to tease. Like I said, Klaus liked to charm and flirt with his witches to get things done. The tension could have been fun, but I just can't see Bonnie taking it any further. The fact that Caroline did made me lose so much respect for her character. But at least with Bonnie, there would have been plot reasons for Klaus interacting with Bonnie. Cause again, Klaus seemed to have no plot or reason to be in TVD after Elena was turned. His presence made no sense, but maybe him trying to recruit Bonnie could have been something. But this would have given Bonnie a lot more storylines which the writers/producers hated to do.

I will say, I could see like an AU world of Klaus meeting Bonnie as an adult later in life, he would likely be into her. Bonnie and Cami have always reminded me of each other. And the qualities they share are the qualities Klaus loved in Cami.

Thanks for the ask!

[drdemonprince]

I think I remember you saying you were writing something for autistic adults having trouble meeting people? Actually I just remember the ask you got about someone who found a lot of social spaces being for youths. I have a similar problem. I've lived in the same city my whole life, but I don't have friends here because I don't know how to keep in touch with people after the situation we had in common (school, job) ended. And currently I'm unemployed, so I don't have coworkers, and I'm suffering a lot from the lack of a social context. There are some kind-of-niche social events I can go to, trans brunch once a month, queer board game nights every friday (and I don't even like board games). But even once I'm there I struggle to reach out and talk to anyone. For the former event, most people go with friends, so I assume I'm imposing if I make more than very brief small talk. For the latter one, we do often end up a group of polite strangers sitting around talking about random stuff, but I find I don't care about the interaction and I just want to go home. I have friends online that I'd rather spend time with, but it also feels so miserable when I don't have anyone to just grab coffee with. I tried tinder briefly, but I can't stand chatting with strangers, I react to it like an obligation and just ghost them. I'm not curious enough about strangers. I don't want to make friends, I want to already have them. It's rough.

The good thing here is you have 100% already articulated what the root of the problem here is: you're not taking an interest in any of the people you're spending time with, and the people you are meeting are not interesting to you.

People like us when they can feel that we like them, care about them, and find them interesting. People want to spend more time with people who make them feel heard, and who have genuine enthusiasm for their existence. The people you're meeting are almost certainly picking up on your lack of curiosity about them, and your sense that spending time with them is some grueling obligation, and so nothing deeper is taking root.

The solution is to have a genuine interest and curiosity for people. If you can't access that, you won't be able to make new friends. Having close friends that you can meet with for coffee at the drop of the hat isn't a status you can simply arrive at, it's a relationship dynamic that you build, painstakingly, interaction by interaction, invite by invite, one open-hearted, presence conversation after another. And you won't now who will become a lifelong, cherished friend to you if you don't start by trying to find what's worthy of cherishing within other people first.

Now, you mentioned that some of the social groups you take part in aren't even all that interesting to you -- and that's certainly part of the issue. If you don't like board games, you're not going to have fun at board game night, you're not going to like talking about board games, and you're going to feel a palpable disconnect between yourself and all the people who are present because they really like board games. You can either try to find something about the activity interesting, and really put your mind to learning about it and taking an active interest in it, for the sake of your own enrichment, or you should stop going, because there's no reason to drag yourself to regular obligation you don't like and aren't putting any investment in.

I would recommend that you find other social gatherings in town that line up more with your interests. Meetups, book clubs, volunteer shifts, video gaming leagues, sports teams, community theater, whatever it might be. This article has more advice about how to find new social groups and to make friends there:

But I'd also encourage you to practice being curious about the great diversity of humanity. There are so many wonderful subcultures out there to learn more about, so many creative and industrious practices to be awed by and to learn about, and so many funny, bizarre people out there worth making a study of. Even if you don't get along with the vast majority of humans or don't want most of them within your close social circle, you should, I think, be able to find something worth learning about in within nearly every human community, and within every person.

I firmly believe that the purpose of life is to grow, experience new things, and learn -- and if you're seeking new friends, you do want your world to be a bit larger than it is, right? So why not try to enjoy learning more about the broader social world? That doesn't mean committing to a regular hobby that bores you to tears (I hate tabletop games, for instance), but it does mean dipping your toe into new waters with some genuine receptiveness to it (I tried tabletop games for the hell of it, learned I didn't playing them, but now I do love hearing about my friends' campaigns).

I wasn't a furry when I first started going to Furfest; I just thought it was interesting and I was awe-struck by the dedication and creativity of people practicing the craft of making fursuits and drawing anthro art. The passion of that community was addictive, and the joy and friendliness of the space opened me up, and within a matter of two convention visits, Midwest Furfest had become one of the absolute social highlights of my entire annual calendar.

I've also gone to a lot of anime conventions, and they didn't grab me quite the same way, but I still sat in on some panels where I learned new things, and I still met people who were lovely and got to take in a bunch of beautiful cosplays. I've tried out all kinds of things, from betting on horse races to performing in sketch comedy troupes to attending naked yoga, and I didn't love or feel good about all of it -- but every single one of those things was worth trying out, because it helped me make contact with a broader spread of the human experience and learn a bit more about myself and other people. it broadened my knowledge base and expanded my social skills -- even if yes, i did absolutely sit in on some conversations that bored me to absolute tears.

If you don't have the energy to be curious about new things and new people at this stage of your life, anon, that is completely fine. When I was in the throes of deep masking and Autistic burnout I didn't always have it in me to make polite small talk or to endure overstimulating new situations. It's difficult to be open when one is traumatized or overwhelmed, and so if you find you really cannot feel anything for any people that you meet right now, working on soothing that internal vigilance and treating that trauma might be the first step. Even trauma recovery requires making contact with other traumatized people, listening to their stories, and being able to recognize yourself within them to some extent, tho.

There are periods of life that are for growth and there are periods that are for dormancy. If you don't have it in you to make new friends right now, that's fine. However, if you do want to have new friends in your life, you do have to be able to like people and care about them.

[flyingwargle]

tsukishima often forgets that he's considered a public figure. his picture has been on billboards around the city and pamphlets to advertise the v. league; he's been interviewed for magazines and television talk shows; and he's done a few brand deals here and there. one thing that he always forgets as a possibility as an athlete is-

talking to kids.

once a month, the team gives presentations to different schools in the city. for elementary school kids, they focus on the importance of exercise and healthy living. for junior high, it shifts to how to start their athletic career. for high school, it's all about avenues to reach the top level.

this time, though, it's an elementary school, so that means a day of rowdy kids with insensitive questions, too much sass, or not enough tact.

"i don't want to do this." kyoutani is slouched on the bench, already in uniform. tsukishima nods in agreement, similarly dressed, long legs stretched in front of him.

"come on, guys! don't you ever think you're some kid's hero?" koganegawa is enthusiastic, as always. "i always loved meeting my role models! we could really make someone's day!"

kyoutani snorts. "you think anyone would look up to us? if i were a kid, i'd be looking at div. 1 players, like ushijima, or something." tsukishima nods again. after all, it's only the best of the best that are featured on tv or at the olympics.

their cue to file into the gym comes a few minutes later. the elementary school kids, all six and seven year-olds, seated in crooked rows while their teachers stand behind them. a familiar face turns and catches his eye. "hey, tsukishima!"

"sugawara-san." he bows as his senpai steps forward to greet him. "i didn't know you would be here."

"i thought about letting you know ahead of time, but i wanted to surprise you." suga's grin hasn't lost any of its mischief, eyes gleaming with humor. "let's talk later!"

tsukishima rejoins his team, seated on the floor in a semicircle to go through their rehearsed talk about healthy living and the importance of sports. his part is a short spiel on what volleyball is, simplified for kids to understand. his audience is equal parts bored and captivated, the bored ones shifting around until a teacher tells them to stop moving.

afterwards, they break into small groups for live demonstrations. suga brings a handful of his students over, although they try to hide behind him. "you can't have to be scared," he says, nudging them forward. "he may look scary, but he won't bite. i'm his senpai, after all."

"sensei, you know him?" a girl asks.

"we went to school together. we even played on the same team." suga plucks one of the kid-friendly volleyballs and sits a few meters away, raising it over his head. "watch!"

they volley a bit back and forth, the kids watching in awe. suga catches the ball and gestures at another child. "hiro is actually a big fan of yours, tsukishima. he's one of the best volleyball players at school."

hiro tugs on his shirt, a sendai frogs jersey. it's hard to tell because his arms are covering the front, but tsukishima recognizes the number 17 behind it. "want to volley a bit with me?" he asks.

"c-can i?" comes the timid reply.

tsukishima nods, waiting until hiro gets into position before he gives a gentle toss. the kid receives it flawlessly. "very good," tsukishima praises him. hiro's smile widens, suddenly shy.

"mister!" another boy waves his hand. "how can i get taller?"

"you'll have to eat your vegetables and play sports," tsukishima says. "the more you move around, the taller you'll get."

"is playing volleyball fun?" another kid asks.

he tosses a ball lightly in his hand. "i didn't think so, for a long time. i started when i wasn't much older than any of you, mostly because of my brother. i kept going since my friend played with me, and if i didn't, my mom would send me to tutoring, and i didn't want that." tsukishima lowers the ball to the floor. "in high school, i met a lot of people who were better than me. it isn't fun playing a sport if you aren't good, but that just means you have to practice until you are. and then, when you have that moment of victory, you'll start to think that it's fun."

his mind flashes, a mosaic of faces and figures, a chorus of voices, a snapshot of bright lights, shiny medals, and framed certificates. he may not be at the top, may not represent his country at the olympics, but here, in this gym, he's at the pinnacle of these kids' heights, the doorway that leads them further.

"it's not just about volleyball," he adds. "it can be for anything. so long you do your best and do all that you can, you'll have fun."

the groups are dismissed, as they'll head to the bleachers and observe a scrimmage. tsukishima rises to his feet, pausing at the sound of his name. "that was great, tsukishima," suga says. "you have a way with kids."

"please don't tease."

"i'm not! i've done a few talks before with other community members, but they always forget how old their audience is. you were perfect." his senpai smiles at him. "good luck during the scrimmage."

it isn't meant to be long or exhaustive, just a quick demonstration of what volleyball can be like. tsukishima is up first with the serve, hand up to catch the ball. he bounces it a few times, moves back to prepare for his jump serve. he's about to do his toss when-

"ready, and-" in a chorus, suga and his kids shout, "tsukishima, nice serve!"

koganegawa whips his head toward the bleachers. "hey, that's no fair! cheer for me, too!"

kyoutani chuckles. "guess you'll have to ace it," he calls out to tsukishima.

he narrows his eyes in concentration, body low and ready. "guess i'll have to." tsukishima tosses the ball, makes his approach, and jumps. perhaps one day, those kids will be able to reach the same heights as him.

--

inspiration: this fanart of tsukishima with suga's elementary school kids and this fanart of said kids and suga posing and cheering for him <3

[bookshelfmonkey]

Thanks for the tag @storkmuffin :)

Are you named after anyone? Not my first name, which I just chose because I liked it, but one of my middle names is Bowie (as in David Bowie).

When was the last time you cried? A couple of weeks ago, when I was feeling completely overwhelmed by the state of trans rights globally and especially in the UK (where I live) and the ongoing tragedies happening as a result. (Sidenote: it's weird to me how little I've cried since starting T, I used to cry multiple times a week and now it's every few months)

Do you have kids? No.

What sports do you play/have you played? I swam for about 6-8 years as a kid but always kinda hated it, and eventually quit when the dysphoria became too much. I did football and badminton on and off too, but was never really good at anything (asthma & possible dyspraxia & hypermobility etc.). Now I'm trying to run and work out mostly just to stay healthy. I'd like to get back into swimming but can't really afford to go to a pool regularly and I'm scared to go by myself. I also go to a lgbtq+ football club weekly when I'm in my hometown (my friend started an under-18s one which I used to do too and it was pretty much my only positive experience of sports).

Do you use sarcasm? Rarely, and only with close friends where we mutually joke like that with each other.

What's the first thing you notice about people? I actually don't know. I think most of the time I'm too caught up in the anxiety of meeting someone new that I'm more focussed on myself.

What's your eye colour? Bluey grey.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. I'll watch some scary movies but sometimes they just make me too anxious to enjoy them.

Any talents? I can read pretty quickly with good comprehension (I like to take my time when reading for fun, but as an english lit student who always has a fuck ton of essays and shit to read, it's handy), I can bake really good gingerbread, and I'm weirdly good at immitating people's walks (the same way some people can do voice impressions).

Where were you born? A small city in south west england (not saying more than that for safety/privacy).

What are your hobbies? I read (a lot); I write fiction, poetry, book reviews & TV show reviews (see pinned post on where to find some of these); I embroider and sew; I enjoy baking and cooking but don't do it much atm because I don't like my flatmates so I spend as little time as possible in our kitchen where I might see them; I like going for walks but it can be difficult to get out into nature without a car (ironically) and sometimes I just solve number puzzles/do maths for fun.

Do you have any pets? Yes, this idiot (affectionate). Technically she lives with my parents, but still. Her name's Pepper and she's a generic black cat (it's hard to work out breeds of cats and she's an adopted former stray so there's no breeding history or whatever).

How tall are you? 1.72m

Favourite subject in school? It alternated between english literature and maths.

Dream job? Author/forest wizard/please don't make me enter the workforce (I'm a uni student atm)/I don't know what I want to do with my life.

@yourlocalcorvidcryptid @autisticfordprefect @feral-enfield-with-wifi sorry if any of y'all have already done this and I missed it.

[batsandbugs]

Daminette Headcanon #??

Meet cute/meet disaster opportunity in Gotham. So Marinette is new to the city, and her stash of fabric and notions is completely depleted because she had to downsize when moving across the Atlantic (she had way too much stuff to ship with her.) So she's trying to find Gotham's fabric district which does exist... but it's frequented mainly by villains or henchpeople who need fabric for their costumes. Otherwise, everyone just buys online. Marnette though needs to see her stuff in person, needs to feel the fabric and test stretch and shit. So she's struggling down the street burdened by like five bags and a whole bolt of fabric and Damian (overachiever that he is) is doing an early evening patrol as Robin, and sees this little slip-of-nothing girl walking out of a fabric store that is definitely only frequented by villains and is a front for a local gang, and thinks 'oh, this is a new villain and/or she's being blackmailed to create new outfits' and so he prepares to swing down and interrogate her. Now Marinette, total badass that she is, can handle herself (yes, all her friends and family told her she shouldn't move to Gotham, but she's a hero too and Gotham ain't got shit on Hawkmoth) and she knows this isn't the best part of town, but it's the only place that has fabric stores, and the prices are really good so of course, she's gonna stock up. She knows she looks like an easy target but she is not. But bad guys don't know that, so a pair of idiots come up to her on the street and start harassing her and trying to rob her. One goes to hit her, and she totally backhands them and then knocks them both out flat in under 30 seconds. Not a hair out of place and all of her purchases are still safe and sound. And Robin is shocked up above (and kinda turned on) and is now definitely thinking that this girl is the newest up-and-coming supervillain, and he hears her mutter, "these fools have nothing on Paris." And so he swings down, intrigued, and wanting to know who this new danger is. He doesn't want to be too sus at first though and asks if she's fine (Richard would be proud of how far he's come at interpersonal skills) Of course, Marinette knows who the local heroes are (she doesn't want to step on anyone's toes after all) and so is very friendly at first, and basically says, "I'm okay and don't need any help, after all, you don't survive long in Paris if you can't handle yourself, but it's nice to know Gotham's heroes are looking out." And Robin doesn't know if that's meant to be a threat or sincere. And so he offers to walk her home because that's what a hero would do with a normal civilian right?? Not one that he was trying to gauge what their notorious schemes are, right?? But Marinette easily agrees, and in her mind, is just happy to get a read on the local heroes, and just chats with Robin the whole way home about Gotham and what amazing styles she can get from its local design and architecture. And Damian is so?? confused??? Is this girl an artist? IS she a villain artist?? What kind of schemes are going to happen here. And so he obviously has to know more about this amazi- he means potentially dangerous woman, and so when he sees her safely home asks to maybe, visit? Again? And Marinette is all like 😁😁 Sure, happy to help Gotham's heroes however she can. Damian is like 'perfect, I have managed to open a line of inquiry into a potential threat, now I just need to visit often- I mean monitor her carefully to figure out her plans' and Marinette is just like, 'The Gotham heroes are much more welcoming than I thought they would be. I got fabric, beat up some baddies, and made a new friend all in one evening!'

Their falling in love is kinda inevitable.