#i fucking love shadow grandma

[vaethryn]

art trade with @kottkrig

[bl00doodle]

DOODELS

[heartlilith]

The Rising Signs

Aries Rising

❤️Probably has something that makes them stand out whether that be tattoos, scars, or a birth mark

❤️Masculine features - defined jawline, thick eyebrows, muscular body, intense eyes

❤️Always looks like they’re on their way to bitch someone out hahaha

❤️High energy placement - walks quickly and with purpose, hates slow people and slow drivers (probably drives fast too)

❤️Don’t mess with people they care about because they will bitch you tf out on the spot

Taurus Rising

🌿Chill reserved stoner vibes

🌿Not a morning person whatsoever

🌿Likes the finer things in life; you’ll see them in nice clothes and even if their clothes aren’t expensive they look like it because they take care of their stuff

🌿Loves going out to eat

🌿Probably has a mother who cooks some bomb ass food 

Gemini Rising

✨Ive noticed a lot of Gemini risings have blonde hair and usually on the taller side

✨Smarter than you or at least they think they are

✨They are smart though and know the most random facts ever … but interesting none the less

✨Loves music and has a diverse taste

✨People like them because they’re easy to talk to and they’re very interesting; they have cool hobbies/skills and they tell funny/memorable stories

Cancer Rising

🦀 Looks like 🌚 and also they really resemble dolls

🦀 Females can act bitchy or defensive when first meeting them because they’re really sensitive but don’t want you to know cause they think it’s a weakness

🦀Same with males but probably worse - feels like they have to take on more Martian traits because they feel like being sensitive is shameful

🦀They have the cheeks that grandmas always pinching

🦀They also have a resting bitch face just like Capricorn rising but unlike their sister sign they wear their emotions, you can always tell if they’re pissed off

Leo Rising

☀️Beautiful hair but we already know that - they also have full lips and literally resemble the sun - happy, good vibes, and just a beam of fucking sunshine

☀️Want to do everything fun they make great friends

☀️High self esteem and even if they don’t, you wouldn’t know because they naturally come off as confident

☀️Kids love them

☀️Very comfortable in their skin especially as they get older

Virgo Rising

🥑 They look really “clean” if you know what I mean - like they always look neat and simple in a good way

🥑Beautiful skin and symmetrical faces

🥑I’ve noticed these people can get along and talk with anyone about anything thanks to their mutable energy

🥑Likes to match everything - clothes and accessories, nails with outfits, etc

🥑Can look younger than they really are

Libra Rising

💕Super sociable, polite, and kind

💕Probably popular in highschool or at least in their friend group

💕Can be fake nice to someone and talk about them behind their backs later

💕Aesthetically pleasing instagram

💕Great at doing makeup

Scorpio Rising

🦂Dark just dark - their eyes look dark even if they’re light colored, dark auras, tattoos, literally looks like a fucking shadow ok

🦂Doesn’t realize they death glare people they hate

🦂I love these people tbh they’re so intriguing and beautiful in a mysterious way

🦂DEFINITELY attracts obsessive people and friends

🦂Probably feels like they’ve been 20 different people in their lifetime - always transforming their image and looks

Sagittarius Rising

🗿Ok legssss 👏 fr tho they have stallion legs

🗿Also likes the finer things in life and will probably get them because they’re lucky in life and blessed

🗿Really funny placement and someone you want to have around all the time to do fun shit with

🗿Carefree for the most part but they have certain triggers that they’ll cause a fit over

🗿Usually hates commitment (depending on other aspects and planets) because they don’t want to be tied down or have a loss of freedom

Capricorn Rising

🪵 Resting bitch face - their face literally screams “please don’t talk to me”

🪵Likes neutral colors for clothes and such

🪵Wise asf and literally downloads information from the gods or maybe they’ve lived 100 lives who knows but they definitely know

🪵Will not be falling for your bullshit or buying any dream you sell

🪵Strives to be self sufficient and independent - oh and also NO SCRUBS (shoutout TLC)

Aquarius Rising

💨Kinda look like aliens but in a hot sexy way

💨Can get along with anyone they talk to like Virgo Rising

💨Rebellious and a trendsetter who can attract a lot of copy cats

💨These people actually knew the song before it was famous

💨Has a lot of friends that are all different personalities - they could have one nerdy smart friend and another friend that’s the captain of the football team (this is cliche but yk what I mean)

Pisces Rising

🐟Looks like a mermaid

🐟Beautiful people and angelic looking but they can’t see that so when people compliment them or stare they don’t really get it

🐟Looks different in every photo they’re in

🐟Another placement that attracts creeps and stalkers

🐟Picks up everyone’s energies around them which is why it’s important for them to be around good people

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

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

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[macfrog]

if patrick bateman were a woman

cowboy like me [bonus chapter]

surprise!! happy halloween!!!! may your day be spooky and your sex be filthy. here's a bonus chapter of clm to celebrate. love y'all !!! despite being cowboy joel and his reader, this is not canon. does not happen in the cowboy like me series. i wish. it's just a little bit of spooky szn fun with my two favorite star-crossed lovers. !!!

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: sarah throws a halloween party. you and joel have a little too much fun.

warnings: as pwp as a macfrog fic can get, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lil bit titty appreciation, a singular daddy mention, a single slice of degradation, but also praise kink, unprotected piv sex, creampie, it's set on halloween, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

Ice, pretzels, lime juice. Ice, pretzels, lime juice.

I’m giving you one job. Ice, pretzels, lime juice. That’s it.

That sounds like three jobs, you’d said.

Sarah ignored you. Be here at seven, alright? Ice – pretzels – lime juice!

It’s seven thirty. You’re finally on her front porch. The tiny section of bare skin between your stockings and black skirt is pimpled with goosebumps. With each inhale you suck in the sickly-sweet scent of fake blood, splattered across your face. You have a bag of ice slung over one arm, a bag of pretzels balanced on top, a bottle of juice hanging from your fingers and an axe under your elbow.

Only – it’s not lime juice. And the axe is plastic.

Sarah opens the door and spots your blunder instantly. “That’s lemon.”

“I know. They didn’t have any lime.”

“They didn’t have any lime? Where the hell did you go?”

“It’s Halloween, Sarah. Everybody and their fucking grandma is drinking tonight. Lemon tastes the exact –”

“Ah!” She holds a finger up. Her red cape flutters in the breeze. “It does not taste the same. Otherwise, why would it be two separate things?”

“Hey, Wonder Woman,” you drone, “mind letting me in? I’m fucking freezing.”

She scoffs, and steps aside. Mutters, “’s not the same thing,” as you pass.

You click down the hall, head rolling to check out her decorating. The living room and kitchen are lit by constellations of tiny tealights, flickering and blinking and casting tall, warped shadows across the walls. There’s a purple neon sign sat against the wall that reads Spooky. By the fireplace sit the two pumpkins she and her boyfriend carved last night; she’d sent you photos and asked you to pick a winner. When you chose the Iron Man head over the silhouette of Tinkerbell, she sent back a middle finger emoji.

Y: It’s cleaner cut. What do you expect? Shoddy work, Miller.

S: asshole.

Sarah’s slotting the ice into the freezer. Struggling, by the sound of it. You swing back into the kitchen to find Wonder Woman on her ass, hammering her fist against the frozen pack to fit it in.

You’re about to offer help, when someone else does it for you. Someone lower, gravellier. A voice like thunder in the distance, a storm approaching.

“You need a hand?” he asks, and when you turn, you almost drop your fucking axe.

He glances to you as he emerges from the dark hallway, the warm glow licking at his graying flicks of hair, nestling in the deep-set lines on his face. His eyes dart down to where your fingers now clutch the plastic handle, holding it against the hem of your skirt like it’ll do anything to cover your modesty.

Your modesty, meaning – the line of sexy black lace curling around your thighs, snug against the supple skin.

What the fuck are you doing here? you mouth, as Joel paces across the kitchen towards his daughter.

He shrugs, palms outstretched. It’s my house?

You roll your eyes, run your tongue like lightning across your scarlet lips. Sarah straightens up, huffs hair from her face and stares blankly at Joel.

He bends, takes the entire bag in one huge palm, and reorganizes the drawer with the other. Your eye drifts to his bicep, flexing under the tight seam of a dark tee. The bag of ice cradled in his arm leaves weak little droplets, running down the tan skin to the crook of his elbow. You want to fucking lick them up, gather the frozen beads on your tongue, hike up up up to the curve of his shoulder, the crook of his neck, the –

“Hey.” Sarah clicks her fingers in front of your face. “You hearin’ me?”

“Huh? No, yeah. No. I wasn’t lis– What did you say?”

She sighs again. Joel groans as he pushes off his knee and stands tall behind her. Wipes the water from his arm with one swipe of his palm.

“Would you put these in a bowl?” his daughter asks, shoving the bag of pretzels into your suited chest. She shuffles off, announcing she’s going to pick a playlist for the night.

Suited is perhaps giving you too much credit. You’re in a mini skirt and waistcoat, a red tie slung loose around your neck. You’ve a clear poncho draped over your shoulders, but with the heat from the million and one fucking candles – and the flush that the forty-something-year-old with his wide frame and fitted sweatpants and toned chest and his big fucking hands has cast over you – it’ll soon be discarded to the newel post.

But when you reach up for the bowl on the top shelf of the cabinet, pushing forward with a palm on the countertop, the marble digging into your pelvis and forcing your ass to jut out – you think yourself pretty fucking smug to be in a skirt that hugs your cheeks and not much else.

You turn, the lip of the bowl in your fingers, and smile sweetly at Joel, whose gaze returns north as you approach him.

“You got nothin’ better to do with your night than babysit a bunch of twenty-five-year-olds?” you murmur, spilling the bag into the blue bowl. You place a pretzel on your tongue, humming at the taste.

Joel smiles, popping the cap off his beer. He spills the amber liquid into his mouth. “I’ll be in my room.”

Your eyebrows lift. “That so? You need any company in there?”

“Nope. Rangers game is on. I’ll be busy.”

The words ghost across your lips. You’ll be busy, you breathe. Joel nods. Then looks you up and down.

“American Psycho?”

“What?”

He flicks his wrist up and down your figure. “What’s his name, again? Pat–”

“Patrick Bateman,” you say together. You nod.

“That’s the one.” Then he turns, leans his jaw nearer until his lips line with your ear. Your eyes shoot across to the empty doorway. Sarah’s skipping song after song in the living room.

Joel’s finger slips beneath the lace trim of your stockings, tugging gently. “I don’t remember ‘im in these, though,” he says, voice low.

You gulp. Swallow to push your heart back into place. “Well,” you glance down, lifting your thigh closer to him, “if he were a woman, he woulda dressed like this.”

“That’s somethin’ I’d like to see,” Joel murmurs, eyes locked on the place where lace separates from skin.

“Yeah?”

He nods. Growls, “Yeah.”

And then he’s walking away.

Within an hour, the house is jumping. Literally. Almost.

You sit at the kitchen island, sipping on a beer, staring down the hall at the sea of bodies – of nylon and polyester, of purples and oranges, of headbands and props and cloaks and hats. There are a lot more than forty people here – a lot more than Sarah intended to turn up.

A lot more than you know, too. She’s barely even four years younger than you, but most of these kids look like they just walked out of middle school. Of the handful of faces you recognize, one is sat opposite you, his arm draped over Sarah’s shoulder, her hand locked in his. She and Ty have been dating for a year now, surviving long-distance when she jets back off to school every few months.

The other you know, unfortunately for you, is swaying by your side. Leaning a little too heavily into you. Asking you questions about college, and then talking over your answers to tell you stories about his college. Asking you questions about films you like, and then interrupting to gawk at the titles you reel off. The only times he doesn’t jump in over your answer, are the times he’s asking who you think might win in a fight between prime Mike Tyson and prime Muhammad Ali. And that’s only because you don’t have an answer to give him.

Jace. Ty’s best friend. Fucking – loser.

“And who the fuck are you s’posed to be, anyways?” he asks, slinging a heavy arm over your shoulder. He reeks of beer, warm and stale. His jaw’s swinging, cheeks popping and suckling on a shriveled piece of gum.

You scowl, shrugging the uncomfortable weight from the nape of your neck. “Patrick Bateman,” you mutter.

“Who?”

“Christian Bale. You know, when he –” Sarah mimes lifting an axe over her shoulder, takes a swing through the air, across the island to Jace.

“No fucking idea,” he says, shaking his head. You’re not surprised.

“Where’s your axe?” Ty asks, as Sarah nuzzles back into his side.

You shrug. “Saw someone using it to stir the punch earlier. ‘s probably in the toilet or something.”

He laughs, flashing his dimpled cheeks. He’s got glistening eyes beneath long, black eyelashes. He’s handsome. Sharp jaw, full lips. Sarah links her fingers at his side, plants her cheek against his shoulder. She’s comfortable. She’s safe. Your chest warms at the sight.

He squeezes her arm, and they share a meaningful glance before there’s a yell from across the kitchen, and their attention is diverted.

When they turn to watch two of Sarah’s high school friends sword-fighting, wielding a plastic lightsaber and your axe, you slink off, swiping two beers from the fridge. Swift and silent, you scale the stairs and fade into the darkened hallway at the top, in pursuit of your own dark-eyed, sharp-jawed comfort.

The sliver of light at the end of the hall draws you in, footsteps silent along the soft carpet. Up here, tucked away in the corner of the house, far from the rattling music and rumble of boisterous chatter – you can hear the soft roar of a crowd, the crack of ball against bat.

Your hip nudges the door open, trickle of condensation running over your knuckles. Joel’s eyes are already on you. He’s laying on his bed, legs outstretched, knee cocked. One arm lies idly on his thigh. You get the feeling he shifted it quickly when he saw the door move.

He balances his chin on the end of the remote, purses his lips and lifts his head. “Now,” he mumbles, “you’re s’posed to be downstairs.”

You shrug, holding the bottles up. “Thought you might need a top-up.”

His eyes thin. He sits up straight, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You come to a stop between his knees, holding the beer down to him. He hums, taking it with his eyes locked on yours.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, and his eyes begin to drift down.

You tilt your head back at the same time he does, lifting the lip of your own bottle. The cold drink washes over your tongue, bitter and blunt in its taste, leaving a furry feeling on your gums. When your chin lowers again, Joel’s hand is on the back of your thigh.

He’s staring at the two knolls between you – your breasts round, nipples peaking under the tight waistcoat.

“Welcome,” you reply, swirling the liquid around in the curved glass. Your voice is barely there. But he hears you, and he must hear the want laced deep through that one quiet word, because he instantly slides his beer onto his nightstand.

He curves both hands around your thighs, fingers lifting higher and higher between your legs until they’re crossing over lace and onto bare skin.

You shuffle forward, leaning your arms on his shoulders and propping your knees on the bed either side of his body. Your skirt rides up, exposing the shard of shocking red lace beneath the pinstripe material.

Joel sees it. Like it’s a rag and he’s a bull. It charges something deep inside him. Something that awakens beneath the thin line of fabric between your legs.

You can feel your pulse in your clit. Fluttering, fucking – hammering. Your cunt feels painfully empty, clenching around nothing. Joel’s palms surf across the tops of your thighs until his fingers are teetering along the hem of your skirt.

“Off,” he instructs, swatting the poncho away.

You shake it from your shoulders the same way you shook the blond downstairs off. Joel nods as the material crumples to the floor. He hooks a hand under your knee and yanks your body closer to his. You almost throw the beer bottle across his bed.

“J– fucking hell, my –”

“Shut up,” he clips, and grabs the beer from your grasp to deposit it alongside his own.

His hands find the tiny buttons of your waistcoat, fingers slip through the gaps between them where your skin peeks through. You can feel his hot breath on your chest. A wave of need washes over you, a desire from deep within your marrow to feel him everywhere. His breath, his tongue, his hands. All of him.

Your entire body weight rests on his shoulders, your fingers locking his shirt in two tight fists. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. Barely seems to notice. He pulls apart the first button, watches with a dark gaze as your breasts spill over. The second button pops open easily, and they bounce lower. When he unhooks the third, they drop into place, nipples pointed, welcoming him in between them.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he whispers as he leans in, mouth flattening against the smooth skin between them. “No bra or nothin’.”

“Knew you’d be here,” you reply, head rolling back as he licks a trail across to the darker flesh of your nipple. His lips close around it and he suckles gently. Your nails dig into his scalp.

He pushes the waistcoat over your shoulders and it drops to the carpet, pooled inside the shell of poncho. As soon as it falls, his hands begin the climb up the seam of your thigh, resting on the brush of red – where he feels the quickly dampening mark on the fabric.

“Thought as much,” he says, head cocking to watch your expression warp as he rubs slow circles into your clit. His voice is as soft as his touch, innocent almost, when he asks, “She like that?”

“Ye-ah,” you choke, leaning back.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and uses his other hand to fish beneath his sweatpants. He rubs himself under the gray cotton, watches as your fingers clutch at the waistband to tug it down, releasing him.

His heavy cock springs up between your bodies, dabs precome on the pointed tail of your tie. You giggle, loosening the knot and pulling the thin silk over your head. Your hands wrap around him, twisting and pumping and dragging the milky arousal from his slit down the smooth, warm skin. Joel’s breath catches when your thumbs swipe across his head.

His fingers slip behind your knees and pull them apart, pull them wider on the mattress. You lean forward, chest brushing against his parted lips, taking your panties in one hand and guiding him along your slit with the other.

You cover him in your arousal, the veined skin soon slick and pearlescent. His wide head slips between your opening, notching against your entrance and forcing the breath from your lungs.

His hands sit firmly on your waist, pushing down on your hips, pushing and pushing until he sinks snug into your cunt. When he pauses, his mouth agape and eyes stuck on the sight of his body connecting to yours, you whine.

“More,” you mewl, voice dripping with need, drizzling all over him.

“We gotta –”

“More.”

“Baby,” Joel says, voice flat but crumbling. “We gotta go slow. I’m gonna – You’re gonna make me come, dressed like that, if we go too quick.”

But fuck, you want to feel him. Want him to buck his hips and fill you in one go – fuck the pain. Fuck the discomfort, fuck the way your walls would clamp in a vice grip around him. You want him to fuck you. Want to be fucked so good that you have to time your moaning with the bassline of the music downstairs, unable to contain the sounds in your throat. Fucked so good that you waddle out of the room, that you fling yourself back onto the couch and wince in pain, a sharp memory of the breadth of him shooting between your legs.

Your hips circle, the heat of your cunt swirling around and around on his tip. He groans, hands tightening on your waist to hold you still.

“Stop it, darlin’,” he growls, the words clawing from between his teeth.

“F-fuck me, then,” you moan, curling your back to slowly edge down on him.

“Ask nicer.”

You smile, heavy lids falling closed. “Please?”

His hands roam around the curve of your ass. He starts to push again. “Nicer.”

Your mouth opens wider the further he slides into you. The more he claims of your body, the further you open for him, the warmer your welcome. Your head tips back, eyes tighten until you see stars. When you feel a weight around your neck, you flutter your lashes open, blink the cyan-colored sparkles from your vision.

Joel pulls your jaw back down to face him. Squeezes on your pulse, holding you between his middle finger and thumb.

“Nicer,” he demands.

You lean in, small hands linking around his thick wrist. “Fuck me, please, daddy,” you whisper.

And he smiles like a fucking devil. Eyes drawn black like ink. He pulls you in until your chin brushes against the rough bristle of his own, lines his bottom lip with yours.

Into your mouth, he asks, “You think you can take it, babygirl? Think it’ll fit?”

You nod desperately, anchoring yourself on his wrist. “Know it will.”

He’s only halfway in. Your heartbeat is thudding around your body, focusing hardest on your clit. Your hips move again, and Joel allows it, sitting back to watch as you sink down further.

“Go on,” he says, watching your body slowly attach to his, “’f you think you can do it. Be a big girl ‘n take it. Slow.”

Something caught between a laugh and a whimper drags between your painted lips – something dripping in desire, built from a need to prove yourself to him, to take all of him inside your body, to feel him in the deepest parts of yourself. You push on him, loosen his grip around your neck and flatten your palms on his chest. And you curve your back, pushing him deeper.

“’s my girl,” Joel says, quietly, as if to himself. “This what you wanted? Comin’ up here, dressed like that?”

Your teeth hold onto your bottom lip. “Like what?” you purr, leaning forward until your noses brush.

Joel tips his chin up, lips flush against yours. “Like a little fuckin’ slut.”

You laugh weakly, feeling him finally in his entirety. “Fuck.”

Joel’s hands take your waist, pushing you down until the pain sends bolts of lightning across your vision. The bruising feeling of his head against your cervix. The sweet stretch of your skin opening around his.

“Beggin’ for it, weren’t ya? ‘n now look, you can’t hardly take it.”

“I can take it,” you hiss back, bracing yourself on the mattress. Your hips lift, holding onto him, bouncing up and down steadily. “I can take it,” you repeat, like a mantra, like the only thing keeping you in the room still. The only thing reminding your body to keep moving.

Joel holds a palm steady against the bottom of your stomach, rubs his thumb delicately against your skin. “So deep, baby. ‘m so fuckin’ deep inside you. That feel nice?”

The meat of your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs. You’re quickening, eyes screwing shut. He feels so good. Fills you up so fucking good. Your legs start to loosen, knees weakening the more you fuck yourself on him. Your head drops between your shoulders when his thumb lowers, circles gently at your clit.

“Keep – keep doing that. Fuck, Joel – touch me. Keep touching me.”

“’boutta come, ain’t you?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“Yeah,” he says, “she’s about to come.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, hips rolling now, losing rhythm between the split of his cock inside you and the lull of his thumb on your clit. Your back arches, vision begins to blur. Your lungs close in on themselves as you give one final gasp to the ceiling, and let go.

Your walls clamp hard around him, and in one swift movement, your bodies are flipped. When you open your eyes again, you’re on your back, Joel’s figure towering over you.

“’attagirl,” he mutters, palms flat against the underside of your thighs. He pushes them flat, folding you in two, your knees resting by your shoulders. “So close, darlin’. Ain’t gonna last.”

You’re shaking your head, holding onto his neck, thighs trembling. “I – can’t, Joel.”

“Yeah, you can. You can,” he assures, dipping his head to place his lips on yours. Your mouth opens up for him, tongue falls against his own. It’s barely a kiss – you’re licking at one another, sure, but there’s nothing tender or gentle about it. Joel pulls away only to glance down and guide himself back inside you. “Gonna be my good girl, aren’t you? Gonna make me come.”

With one seamless thrust, he’s back inside you, pressing your legs harder against your torso. You whine, a blur of pain and pleasure mixing where he fucks you.

“Good girl,” he says, tongue skimming along his top lip. “Nice ‘n wide, that’s it.”

Your back arches into him, arms tighten around his neck, lips settle curved around his own. You’re moaning, his name releasing itself from your mouth in shots of breath. Joel takes your knee and hooks it over his shoulder, letting the other fall to his hip. The angle forces him deeper. Deeper and harder.

But he’s starting to jump. Bucking randomly. He’s panting your name, teeth grazing against your neck in attempt to hold on just a little longer, feel you squeeze him a little more.

“You’re close,” you slur.

“’m close,” he says.

“Gonna come in me –?”

“Baby –”

“– ’n send me – ah – back downstairs full of you? Runnin’ outta me?”

Joel’s head shakes. His eyes tighten. “Fuck, darlin’. Dirty fuckin’ mouth.”

“C’mon,” you beg, “give it to – m-me.”

His hips hammer against yours, punching against the edge of your cunt harshly. You sob out, nails digging into his shoulders, until he halts, and you feel the warmth of him spurting deep inside your body. Feel the way he tenses, empties, and stills.

Your head falls back against the mattress. Joel’s still nuzzled against your neck, breathing labored, lips soaking wet against your skin. You sift your fingers through his hair, combing through it as he comes to.

His chest rocks against yours. Feeling starts to sharpen again, the orgasmic haze starting to bleed into the past. The walls of the house thud with the music from downstairs. You feel the weight of his body on top of yours again.

“Up,” you groan, pushing on his shoulders.

Joel scoffs, pushing against the mattress and rolling over beside you. He slips out, his spend seeping out and spilling onto your thigh.

Your fingers intertwine with his by your side, your nails scrawling into his knuckles.

“I miss you, when you ain’t around,” Joel whispers, glossy eyes blinking at the ceiling. “I’m bored up here.”

You roll onto your side, run your fingers over the halo of sweat around the collar of his shirt. “Good think I ain’t far, then. ‘m only downstairs.”

He smiles. “Downstairs is too far.”

You lean over him and place a soft kiss on his rough cheek. “Just have to keep you at my hip then, don’t I?”

His head turns and his lips find yours. He cups the globe of your head, pulls you harder against his jaw, runs his tongue along your teeth. When you pull away, you shift the damp hair from his glistening forehead.

“You ruined my tie, by the way,” you tell him. “The hell am I supposed to say that is?”

Joel shrugs. “If Patrick Bateman were a woman, ‘n all that.”

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus' lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing.

trigger warnings: mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she's doing nasty things), reader's family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who's around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

their peace was harassed. again. 

lying on her bed, y/n’s legs were flexing with the same rhythm as her heart beated and her brain ticked. 

that bitch. that dickhead. that fucking new rule.  

turning onto her back, y/n bruised her hands into her hair. too many things happened today, too fast and she couldn’t do anything. she couldn’t do anything to get closer to her first and only lover, coriolanus. it was the perfect plan she had made; going to the same places he went, organizing her whole life around him and gaining access into his heart. and after that? marriage, of course. and kids, and endless wealth that could be provided by her family and his position, because y/n didn’t accept anyone else as a husband than the president of panem. they could be the perfect couple, and her family almost gave the benediction to their marriage. 

only if this fucking day wouldn’t happen. 

today, in the school were coriolanus was studying –y/n was a private student, her family only trusted the teachers that educated the former younger members of the family like her older brother, who was now the leader of the first district–, a new rule was stated: students’ grades wasn’t the reason anymore for the plinth-prize, no. they needed to be a mentor for those poor losers who fought on the ruthless game named hunger games. y/n didn’t care about hunger games really much, but when her family was watching it on the tv in the salon, she sat down too, to watch how people’s true nature came out. while her family enjoyed watching it, they got her to take medicine since the doctor of the family stated her as a little bit mentally unstable. he said some symptoms like… lack of empathy, callous and manipulative? she was just like her grandma, astoria. it was nothing special. 

coriolanus got to be a mentor, and she got a girl from the twelfth district. it was not only the reason of her rage that that fuckhead casca took most of his chance away from winning the prize, and that he needed to work on this much more so they couldn’t be together, but… he got a girl. a girl named lucy gray. and lucy gray can watch herself if she does anything to woo coriolanus. 

y/n got to know him when they sat at the same time in the library; it was love at the first sight. she fell too deep, and from now on, she did everything to get close to him. if she was the universe, coriolanus was the sun; everything was for and about him. she made it known to him even, telling him that he has a big future, and that he needs to watch out because everybody’s going to hunt him down. but she’s gonna protect his safety, not significantly, because she knew how important pride was for men, even if she thought that it was sometimes hilarious. she’s gonna be the shadow around him, the shadow nobody can step over to get to him. y/n knew what’s good for him, and she made real intentions in the past too, from things like speaking with her father so he could soften up casca and give him that damn prize to the even action like being friends with his sister, tigris and his grandmother, the grandma’am. they were nice anyway, so she didn’t mind, same with the money she left in their house ‘accidentally’, or paying for oriolanus’ and hers dinner or snack or coffee when they were hanging out together. her father loved y/n endlessly, because she was just like his mother, her grandmother, but he couldn’t crawl under casca’s skin against the man’s will. while her whole family laughed at that damn girl, lucy gray, who sang and got knocked down on the ground, y/n knew that she was a potential danger. in that moment when she saw the way coriolanus looked at her, y/n decided that lucy gray, this or that way, had to go. there wasn’t any space for others in their love, and anyone that decided to harass it, was gonna pay the prize. 

turning on her stomach, she drew out her journal with shaky hands from anger, tearing up the page where she wrote down steps for the plan. she had another notebook for the doctor who read it monthly, and that notebook was full of ‘normal’ thoughts. but this, this journal… this contained everything that was her. and all of her love for corio, with pictures, letters they wrote to each other, little notes they changed through boring library afternoons, her plans for the wedding dress she’s gonna wear when they marry, and the names of the children they’re gonna have, not to mention the plan and the little footnotes she added to make it really, really perfect. scanning through the papers, she knew she hadn’t planned for this. how could you be so stupid? or was casca that dickhead, that fucker, he’s throwing a spanner in my works, but he’s gonna regret it. yeah, he’s gonna regret it, but not now. this was so perfectly worked out, it was truly a masterpiece, and now, some dickhead fucked it up completely. there were two things y/n didn’t like: people who stood between her and coriolanus, and people who thought they had the right to shit into her plan. 

throwing her journal away with a scream, her white, beautiful cat, persephone meowed loudly, jumping out from the way. looking into her direction, y/n called the cat closer to herself with bending her fingers. crawling into her arms, she rocked her like a real baby. 

“casca thinks he can stop us, sweetheart. but we gotta show him that we are clever, aren’t we, persy?” she asked, stroking the cat’s fluffy fur. persephone was y/n’s best friend; she never gave away her secrets, and always purred when the girl took her into her lap. “we can’t give up, no, sweetheart. we’re almost there, we can’t give up now, and we won’t, will we?” 

persephone meowed again, while y/n picked up the journal. grabbing a pen, thinking about the plan, what was wrong with it? was it not detailed enough? was it too straight? or… her cat accidentally tossed down a picture with her big tail, making y/n sigh. 

“you need to diet, persy.” muttering, when she lifted up the picture, it was her and coriolanus, her favorite picture. and in the background, there was sejanus, clemensia, arachne and many more of his classmates. in the background, blurred out, just as she liked… 

what do they have in common? 

they all had a relationship with corio. with her too, but… that can’t be all. what if the plan was wrong because she only focused on her lover? but it’s the point of it, to have a focus on him. suddenly, it hit her like a train her brother came last night with from the first district.  

she had to peel them down from coriolanus… one by one. it’s gonna be a little bit tiring and difficult, but y/n always loved challenges. and everything that could lead to coriolanus was worth fighting for –even if this fight was a little bit dirty. but her plans weren’t dirty, and she could never be dirty. she did it all for love, for their happiness. 

“you are a fucking genius, persy.” she muttered into the cat’s fur, making her meow again. 

before she could really write down the list of the people who could stand in their way, someone knocked on her door. 

“dear sister, could you come down for dinner?” it was her older sister, morphia. she was about to wed the mayor of the second district. y/n was gonna miss her, really, but not when she disturbed her mind while planning another masterpiece. 

“of course, i’m coming!” she opened the door. kissing the cat’s fur and putting her down to the bed so she could nap, noting in her mind that she needed to bring her food after dinner. morphia saw behind her back, on the bed her other notebook, the ‘normal’ notebook. 

“were you writing down your day?” morphia asked while walking beside her little sister on the hallway of the first floor of their home. they had a three floor house, the whole y/l/n dynasty lived together under one roof, including the husbands and wives who got married into the family. the wealth came from her sharp-minded grandfather, dmitri y/l/n, who had enough influence to get the control of the first and second district, getting ten percent of income from both districts for his own family after the war. he could do it because with his help, bombs were useful enough to stop rebellions. that way, the y/l/n house became rich between the richest, and they had enough respect so nobody doubted the wealth they had. did they get it dirty? yes. did they have guilt? of course not. 

“yeah, i was. so many things happened today. did you hear that corio has to attend the games like a mentor? he got a girl from the twelfth district, it’s so unfair, isn’t it?” she replied, walking beside the frescos of their deceased family members, facing the big windows shaded by heavy brocade curtains. the whole hallway covered with soft burgundy carpet, between the frescos, vases of beautiful roses stood on marble piles. everybody who took a walk in the y/l/n house, they could almost believe that war never happened. 

“you care so much about him, you’re gonna be the best wife. but still, please use your brain, sister. you are so clever, it would be a shame if our family wasted such a perfect mind between children and housekeeping.”

“i already submitted my papers to volumnia gaul. my grades and studies are great from biology and chemistry, maybe i can be one of her geneticists or scientists.” 

“it would be great. our family was never one of those who planned the games. father will be proud of you, just like me and everyone from the family.” morphia stroked her sister’s hair, going down the spiral stairs. the rain was softly falling, tapping on the windows. y/n’s smile was moderate; of course coriolanus was important, but her family was just as much. whatever, whenever, wherever you do, do it with pride. 

sitting through dinner, y/n formed the list in her mind, smiling and laughing when the others did, eating from the big plates. at night, she wrote down everything with persephone in her lap after her dinner too, a glass of wine beside the picture of coriolanus and a little, heart-shaped candle she got from him. 

the list. 

1.arachne crane. her family is part of the old guard of the wealthy from the capitol. they work in the travel industry, having developed luxury hotels in vacation destinations. she’ always very loud and always socking people. she’s not behaving like a noble, truly pathetic.  relationship with corio: they had grown up together, attending important events in each other's lives, as was natural for members of two families of money who lived close together, but did not really like each other. how to get rid of her: waiting. she got a girl from the tenth district, the tribute-mentor work will probably make her busy. at that time, i can speak on my behalf for coriolanus, maybe angering her towards me, to play victim. coriolanus doesn’t like her anyway. 

arachne was an easy prey. otherwise, the first rule of the plan was always to keep her hands clean. never, nobody could know that behind their downfall, there was y/n. 

2. clemensia dovecote  daughter of the energy secretary. she’s always up coriolanus’ ass, only because he’s the one who she can take advantage of. no original thoughts, only crawling up on everybody’s backs. really, really pathetic.  relationship with corio: only classmates. but a really annoying one.  how to get rid of her: she’s gonna fail herself either way, always wanting to be tricky, faith is gonna be her end. if not, talking with my father about her bad reputation, so her and her family’s gonna end up warned. 

y/n trusted her father enough to not to speak out loud that she was the one who intended on it. the y/l/n house always protected each other at all costs, and she wasn’t an exception. 

2. sejanus plinth // DANGER. only child of strabo and mrs. plinth, a wealthy couple from district 2. his father, strabo, made much of his wealth from munitions and weapon manufacturing. rich, has influence.  relationship with corio: his parents almost treat him as their own child. really, really dangerous.  how to get rid of him: …

y/n stopped while writing. sejanus liked her too, because he knew corio and she was almost a couple, but really… sejanus could stop him if he even said a word. it doesn’t work if she’s too kind, if sejanus himself doesn’t, his father will notice it, the bond is too tight and she didn’t want to suffocate in it. she needs to wait until something happens, and intervene when coriolanus is in doubt. 

“we have a lot of work before us, don’t we, persy?” she asked, leaning down to kiss her sleeping cat’s head. looking out the window, the rain fell continually, striking a bolt when she wrote down the fourth person. 

3. lucy gray braid // (?) family member of the nomadic group called ‘covey’, coriolanus’ contestant in the 10th hunger games. rumors say that she got into the games because she was messing around with another girl from the twelfth district.  relationship with corio: neutral. keep in mind if something happens. her actions may be out from surviving.  how to get rid of her: she has to win, so coriolanus can get the plinth-award. other than that, she’s gonna be taken back to twelfth district. keep in mind if something happens. 

lucy gray, lucy gray… you’re gonna be in big, big trouble if you take him away from me. you looked at him in the wrong way. 

y/n sighed, tossing her pen down. she needed to do some research for the coveys, whoever they were. it’s gonna be a long night, but her happy, perfect life with coriolanus will be even longer if she makes lucy gray gone. 

“songbirds can fly high enough to get away from snakes, you know that, persy? but even they can’t get away from a big storm.” y/n giggled, finding peace in the monstrous rumbling above them, heavy droplets banging on the window. sitting at her dressing table, she chose the lipstick she’s going to wear when coriolanus and she shares their first kiss. it was perfect. looking into the mirror, there was a strange glint in her eye, the one she always had only for herself. if she can’t get him one way, she will on the other. 

and anyway… her storm is gonna rock the whole panem. 

[normal-internet-user]

Hii, I loved the toddler sibling headcanons! 😚🌸

I laughed a lot with it so I think I got another sibling time idea

Let's say that the toddler sibling grow up and is already 18 and the boys found out they have a partner (boyfriend/girlfriend)

I wanna see some jealous overprotective big brothers Headcanons 😂

OH. MY. GOD. YES!

BAYVERSE BOYS MEETING THEIR SIBLINGS S/O

Holy shit, it was bad enough for them to realize you were no longer the poptart eating toddler they found in that alley,

They literally freak out when you spill that you have an S/O.

You had sat them down on the couch and were like, "Ok, heres the deal."

Proceeded to tell them you're seeing someone.

Donnie did a spit take,

Mikey just kinda looked at you blankly, before freaking out.

Raph literally stood up, already muttering about how he was "gonna kill 'em."

Leo was all like ,

Raph insisted they meet them,

But you had to explain to him, (like 8 fucking times), that it was not far enough into the relationship for that.

From the moment you told them you were seeing someone,

They are always following you to make sure you're safe.

You're going on a date?

Leo will be supervising from the shadows.

Hanging out with friends, and you're S/O will be there?

Guess what,

So's Raph.

Donnie literally runs a backround check on your S/O and their entire family tree.

He probably know more about their grandma than they do.

Will he tell you that?

Probably not.

Now as for how your S/O meets the big brothers you talk oh so fondly of?

It was not supposed to happen, and it was totally Mikey's fault.

You were on a date whwre the two of you were just kinda hangin out on the roof of their apartment complex,

Ya know chit chatting and all that,

When this loud ass metalic bang! sounds from behing you.

You shoved your S/O down and as fast as Splinter had taught you whipped out a ninja star,

Then proceeded to almost decapitate your brother.

You were not happy.

"Goddammit Mikey. What are you doing?"

"Uhhh-"

"And I know the rest of you are there too you bunch of nosy nellies."

"Thanks Mikey-"

"Yeah come on man-"

"Geez Mikey-"

You proceeded to chew them out for the next two hours for following you without your knowledge, invading your privacy etc. etc.

While your S/O is just kinda standing there like, "Uhm, wtf?"

After you were done scolding them, You formally introduced them to your S/O.

Mikey was actually kinda chill about it,

Leo gave them the strict no funny buisness talk,

Raph gave them the classic big bro glare,

And Donnie just shook their hand like they were buisness partners or somthing.

You were kinda unsettled by how well your S/O was taking the situation.

After your bro's leave, you instantly begin to apologize, and your S/O is all like, "No, it's fine, really! I think it's cool your entire family is ninjas!"

You just mumble, "Wait till you meet my dad." and you and your S/O continue your date.

With you sending a text to your brotyers the let them know you know they're still there and to go the fuck home.

Lol.

.........................................

This was fun to write, lol, over protective big bros are great.

[seeingivy]

time travel 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which you have horrible news waiting for you in the future 

an: i wrote this for a class. i don’t even know what this is. is it dystopian...apocalypse....??? idk don’t ask me I have no clue it’s finals week

- 

“The best way to do things in life is to cheat. If we go in the future, we can figure out how to solve the problem at hand.” 

You turn to face the absolute idiot jabbering in your ear right now, who was none other than the one and only Satoru Gojo. 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We need to sit here and think about a real plan. Have you never watched Back to the Future? Knowing you, you’ll somehow make it worse.” 

Your rejection of his idea leads you and Satoru into breaking out into an argument - like you always do. There’s never an absence of talk back from him and there’s never an absence from you either. You’re sure that the two of you could fight till the end of time, but people always broke up apart before it ever got that far. 

Satoru Gojo is the neighborhood idiot. After graduating from college, you opted to live with your grandmother, who conveniently lived one town down from your college. You were able to keep your job, your current friends with a respectable commute. Plus, the drive gave you time to scream music in the car on the way to and from work. 

Why your lovely little grandmother decided to befriend that absolute asswad Gojo was lost to you entirely. You figured he was abusing her for the food she always made him and were constantly trying to convince your grandma of his devious ways. This sparked a little bit of animosity on his side. 

The girl - whose name you don’t know that Satoru claims can time travel - stands between the two of you. Her eyes are pinched shut, her palms facing towards the ceiling. You look over the top of her head at Satoru and signal for his attention. You mouth at him. 

what the fuck is she doing 

the hell if i know, she’s your grandma’s friend

In a flash, her palms whip to the top of you and Satoru’s shoulders, knocking the wind out of you entirely. 

 - 

When you come to, you find yourself flat against the marble floor, Gojo still passed out next to you. You lean over, trying to nudge Gojo awake. 

“Gojo.” 

“Gojo, wake up.” 

You can feel the despair settling in your chest, nearly shaking his entire frame now. 

“Satoru, please wake up.” 

His eyes flutter open and a smirk makes its way across his face. 

“Well, since you asked so nicely princess.” 

“I hope you choke and die on that fucking tongue, Gojo.” 

He stands up first, extending his hand out to you to lift you up. The two of you take in your surroundings realizing you are not where you were a few minutes ago. You can see the confusion you’re sure is plastered all over your face is absent from his face all together. 

First of all, the floor you were passed out on was marble. But your grandmother had granite floors. The cabinets have been changed from their wooden exterior to white cabinets, the kitchen neatly set up. Your grandmother couldn’t cook without causing a hurricane - so whoever’s house this was, it wasn’t hers. 

“Where are we?” 

“I think your skull got thicker on impact. The future can do that to you.” 

“The future?” 

“Yeah, dumbass. That’s what she was doing with the palms and eyes closed thing.” 

You turn to glare at him ready to start, arguing with him again. You get a few insults in before you’re interrupted by a set of two footsteps behind you, freezing the two of you in your spot. You and Satoru turn around to find you and Satoru staring back at you. 

It’s…you. But it’s not you. Maybe it was someone else? You can see a shadow of your features on the face of this person, but she looks nothing like you. She can’t be you. Her hair is longer, with streaks of purple. There are more wrinkles on her skin than yours, smile lines indented along the eyes and the cheeks. 

And that can’t be Satoru. He’s actually attractive. He’s grown much taller, fitting perfectly into his frame. His shoulders are broad, his arms toned, but you can tell that the older Satoru still has that boyish charm to him, from the way he’s smirking at the two of you. 

“Do you remember this happening, ‘Toru? I know that you traveled in the future but I didn’t realize I did too.” 

“I don’t remember this one, bug.” 

You and Satoru cannot move. Your feet stay planted on the ground, staring back at not-you and not-Satoru. You hesitantly walk forward, staring the two of them down. Your Satoru stays in his spot, and you can feel him grimacing at how weird you were acting. 

“My apologies. She can be weird like that.” responds Satoru. 

Not-You and Not-Satoru laugh. You turn to Not-You, glaring daggers at her. “Shouldn’t you be on my side? Aren’t you me after all?” 

She turns to her Satoru, raising her hand to laugh at what you just said but you’re caught off entirely by the two rings secured around her ring finger. The first is a small, delicate gold band with a small diamond in the middle. The second ring is a plane gold band, with words you can’t discern engraved on them. 

“Wait. We get married?” you whisper. 

Not-you smiles, the look on her face radiating warmth. The smile lines suit her face. Your face. The scar decorating the top of her forehead, which you didn’t notice before, seems entirely out of place on someone who seems so…happy. Are you happy? 

You hold her hand in yours, your touch ghosting against her hand. You’re scared the universe will explode if you touch her too hard. She is you after all. The ring is pretty pretty. You get married. Someone loves you. 

“But to who?” 

“You really were stupid at that age, weren’t you bug?” says not-Satoru. 

“Tell me about it.” responds your Satoru. 

You nearly forgot about that idiot, totally distracted by Not-You. You turn to glare at both Satoru’s, trying to figure out which one to slap across the face.  

“That glare is never not scary, bug. You were a horrifying teenager.” 

“Bold words coming from someone who fell in love with that glare - the first time he saw me too.” responds Not-You smirking at her Not-Satoru. 

He fell in love with that glare. He falls in love with you. The first time he saw you. Your eyes dart down to Not-Satoru’s hand, an identical gold band secured around his ring finger. You make an odd choking sound, the air constricting in your throat. 

“He gets less annoying as time goes on, I promise.” responds Not-You, handing you a glass of water. 

It’s quiet for a few seconds, the four of you awkwardly staring at each other. You can’t look at your Satoru, embarrassed to think about the fact that you might spend the rest of your life with him someday. You can’t look at Not-Satoru either because every time you do all you can help but think about how hot he is.  And you can’t look at Not-You because she looks disgustingly happy and to think that it’s because of Satoru is even more disgusting. 

You can feel a light pounding in your head, steadily continuing. 

“You feel that?” asks your Satoru. 

You nod, your eyes stinging from the pain. 

“We’re about to get sent back.” 

He turns to face Not-You and Not-Satoru, giving them a small smile. 

“It was nice to meet you, again.” 

You feel like the universe is playing a sick joke on you. How is he not phased? We just traveled to the god damn future and found out that we get married. 

“Congratulations on the baby!” 

You feel your eyes boggle out of your head. You look down and don’t understand how you missed the protruding bump in the first place. Not-You is pregnant. You feel the wind knock out of you once again, falling back onto the floor. 

 - 

You feel two hands shaking you, bringing you back to the present. When you open your eyes, you see Satoru and your boyfriend, Kenny, leaning over you, their eyes drowning in concern. 

You sit up and Kenny wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss against your forehead. His lips burn on your forehead, the image of Not-You and Not-Satoru still in your mind. Your eyes dart around looking for Satoru, until you see him in the kitchen, with a small smile on his face. 

You ask Kenny to leave and grab some medications for you at the store. You’re fine, really. But you just want to talk to Satoru. Sans Kenny. 

As he slides out the door, pressing yet another kiss to your forehead, you take a deep breath to face Satoru. You pad into the kitchen, to find him hunched over a tub of vanilla ice cream. 

“Satoru?” 

“Hm, bug? What is it?” 

You feel your cheeks turn warm at the endearment. Not-Satoru called Not-You bug. Your Satoru has never called you that. Until now that is. The words knock around in your mind, until you feel them spill out of your mouth. 

“The first time you saw me?” you whisper, looking up at his eyes. They’re warm, still free from the wrinkles and smile lines you saw on Not-Satoru’s face. 

“That’s cheating, bug. You’re not supposed to know that yet.” 

You frown, lightly pushing him as you walk past him. You dig for a spoon from the drawer to eat some of the ice cream he left out. 

“It didn’t...phase you. To find out that we were married.”  

He leans over, his fingers ghosting on the side of your face. 

“That’s because I knew that already.” 

You pause, turning to face him. 

“I’ve…met them before. A few years ago. The girl, she’s not your grandma's friend. She’s mine.” 

You pause, taking in his words. He’s known he gets married to you this entire time. Apparently, he’s loved you since the first time he saw you. 

“Satoru?” 

“Yes, bug?” 

“What did you see…the last time you went?” 

He smiles, pulling you close into his chest. Your face is resting against his chest and you can hear his heart hammering against your ear. 

“I’ve tried to do that before. Go to the future to see if there’s a solution to our problem.” 

“And there isn’t?” 

“No.” 

You frown, pulling back from him to look at his face. He looks down at you, still holding you in his arms. 

“That’s so bleak, Satoru. We’re going to be fighting curses…forever.” 

He smiles, his hand reaching to cradle the side of your face. 

“That’s not how I saw it.” 

“What other way is there to see it?” 

“What I saw when I went back was...retribution. We fight so hard to keep the peace. And we’ll stay fighting, when we’re older too. But the universe paid back our service.” 

You look up at him, shaking in his hold. 

“I get to marry the love of my life. I get to wake up to you every morning, see that smile you hide everyday. And even better - we get to make a family together. A tiny little you and me.” 

You shove your head into the crook of his neck, trying to hide your tears from his line of vision. He was being so sweet. He wanted to...marry you. Someone wanted to be with you, to love you. 

You feel his hands move, one rubbing small circles into your back and the other one tangled in your hair. You cry silently into his shoulder, the array of emotions suddenly too overwhelming. 

“What’s wrong, bug? The thought of marrying me is that bad?” 

“I just never thought anyone would love me like that. Like want to spend the rest of their life with me.” you whisper. 

“I’d fight my entire life if it meant I got to spend the rest of it with you. Loving you...is like breathing air.” 

The door clicks open, Kenny bursting in with multiple bags of groceries. You and Satoru break apart, the air feeling cold from the absence of his arms. Loving you is like breathing air. Kenny offers you the bottle you asked for and runs upstairs to start a bath for you. You watch his retreating figure, the stirring in your chest getting all…tangled up. You’d forgotten about him entirely. 

“I have every intention to wait for you, if you’ll have me. Granted, he’s at a disadvantage. I know I’ll win already.” he says, swiping the tub off the counter and walking out the door.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

lmaooo kenny watching you sleep is so creepy (might also be the type of person to randomly trace your nose to see if you'll wake up???)

i can imagine being in a relationship with kenny being like dealing with an unpredictable hot potato of an angry cat who can bite you at any given moment (but, like, the risks of getting scratched and bitten until you bleed outweigh petting a cute cat...)

also, i feel like kenny would just know random details about you?? like your ring size. or your shoe size. or, if you have period, when it starts. and ends. or that you used to have a fringe in seventh grade. or that your grandma likes to bake victoria sponge cake.

or like, casually remembering something small, and being, five years down the line, like, "Do you remember you told me on X day of the X week at X hour XYZ?"

and you're like ????

and sometimes, when kenny would be weirdly nice like getting you a blanket or really leaning into domesticity, you would like watch him like O.O what's next...?

would casually spring up things on you. "Let's get married." "Do you think I should test this out on a human?" "I am leaving for five days, don't contact me." "Should we freak your mother and father out by saying that I'm centuries old?" "You remind me of someone I knew in the sixteenth century. They were... interesting." "I got you a wedding dress, put it on. If you don't, there'll be consequences." "I don't think I'll kill you... I think."

high-key very unhinged... but at least you're kept on your toes all the time? right?

ANON . YOU GET IT.

he’s so fucking Weird . 100% stares at you sleeping and traces the bridge of your nose … smiles a little when that makes your face scrunch up a bit. he’s just fascinated by you i think!! by the fondness you make him feel. he’s like oh :) emotion :)….

AND YES. HE LITERALLY IS JUST A CAT. when it comes to dating kenny i feel like you sort of have to adjust to his whims….. he can definitely be silly and affectionate (in a mildly condescending way) but then he can also be very Cold. and come off as apathetic. he’s like a stray cat who waltzed into your home one day and let you pet and feed it…. sleeps in your bed and purrs when you scratch behind its ears but won’t hesitate to hiss if you do something he doesn’t like. random bouts of affection but only ever at his whim, y’know? like. he’s Your Cat but he also isn’t. he doesn’t always come home and it’s clear he has a life outside of you. but he likes your company enough to let you come closer than anyone else has been and that means a lot on its own!!! he’s just…. your mildly creepy cat. who watches you sleep with his big creepy eyes and protects you from the shadows.

BUT OK enough abt kenyaku (<- his Cat name)….. ANON I LOVE YOU. i agree!! on all points!!!! him knowing random little things about you….. randomly recalling certain things…. i feel like his memory is a little jumbled. kenjaku is the type to forget your bday but like … he’ll remember your thoughts on Every Single Character in the show you’ve been binging. or the exact tone of voice you had when you spoke to him for the first time. his love definitely shows in the little things… he might not tell you that he Loves You outright and i don’t think he’d care about making your relationship official in any way, but if you mention liking a brand of soda you’ll find one waiting for you in the fridge the next day. he’s cute. i’ve said this before a while ago but i also think kenny would take you on random trips a lot…. just to spend time with you!! but he doesn’t Tell You where you’re going so you just have to listen to him say ”we’re almost there ^_^” like 50 times. lmao.

ALSO BEFORE I FORGET . the period thing. you’re a genius anon. he just randomly sniffs you and then goes ”you’re on your period aren’t you” and you’re like ??? wtf is wrong with you ?????? (he was Right btw) LIKE HE’S SO STRANGE. you don’t need a period tracker because he’ll just casually let you know you’ll be getting your period tomorrow. and that it’ll probably be a little worse than usual. and he’s Always right so you just have to nod.. silently…. trying not to give him side eye……… for the record i think he also takes care of you well during your Time of The Month. tries to be a little more tender because he knows you’re sensitive and doesn’t really want to deal with you crying (he doesn’t like seeing you in distress but that’s a secret)….. makes sure you’re taking ibuprofen. makes sure you get some fresh air. lets you sleep on his lap like a puppy while he reads. places one of his big warm hands on your lower stomach. he’s a little more indulgent i think.

but ok period comfort ASIDE . the random bouts of affection/domesticity….. you Get it anon. i think he’s actually fairly physically affectionate but it’s never something He initiates. he just expects you to know when it’s okay to cling to him and not. so if he pulls you into his lap or covers you in a blanket or whatever you kind of melt a bit…. i DO think he’s a frequent hair-ruffler though. and a serial booper. he’ll mess up your hair and boop your nose and you just have to Deal with it. get booped idiot. (it’s how he shows affection :3)

"Let's get married." "Do you think I should test this out on a human?" "I am leaving for five days, don't contact me." "Should we freak your mother and father out by saying that I'm centuries old?" "You remind me of someone I knew in the sixteenth century. They were... interesting." "I got you a wedding dress, put it on. If you don't, there'll be consequences." "I don't think I'll kill you... I think."

AND FINALLY. THIS. i went insane btw. all of these r so real and true anon …. he’s just kind of silly and weird and tiptoes that line between hot and cold. but he Cares for you in his own weird way.

and!!! i don’t think he would ever kill you!!!!! i do think he’d say that last line but only to see your reaction lmao. compared to other jjk villains kenny is never shown killing anyone on a pure whim, obviously he doesn’t Mind doing it but it’s not something i see him doing casually yk?? especially not to someone whose company he genuinely enjoys…. maybe if he thinks he’s getting Too attached to you? :0 idk but!! i feel like kenny keeps you around for as long as he possibly can if he cares for you. spending time with you is important to him. even if he randomly disappears now and then. (if he genuinely Loves you i think there’s a good chance he’ll just throw you over his shoulder and bring you with him LMAO)

BUT YES. i’m OBSESSED with him. thank you soso much for feeding my kenny thoughts anon <333 the kenny talks i’ve been having lately r Really tempting me to finish some kenny fics T_T….. soon.

[normal-thoughts-official]

karlach gushing about wyll to fytz always makes me all mushy inside. like. wyll has probably had his praises sung by a million bards, most of whom don't even know what he looks like, much less his name. but he hasn't felt like he's enough a day in his life since he became the blade of frontiers. if anything, that persona only made him see wyll ravengard as lesser and lesser

karlach, in contrast, doesn't give a fuck about the blade of frontiers. she's not exalting his battle prowess with edited and sometimes made up notions of what a hero is like. she's not talking of a legend. she's talking about her boyfriend wyll, isn't he handsome, and you should see how well he dances, i swear the man knows every style this side of the sword coast. he's travelled everywhere, im telling you, and none of that fancy shmancy touristy bullshit either, he knows all the locals and really learned everything about their culture and i learned so much about it from him. i was raised in baldur's gate my whole life and then i was out of the loop for a godsdamned decade and it's like every time we talk he takes me across the whole world, everywhere I've never met. it's crazy. and everyone loves him too. we get a discount everywhere we go, i swear, he once got 40 camp supplies for free in the shadow cursed lands! the poor fuckers in there couldn't even grow grass, everyone was eating stale bread and spoiled tarts and he just scored a full meal scot free out of some lady he had just met! didn't even say anything, just asked and she was like "yeah sure, here's a camp supplies pack for free". what's even the point of buying anything after that! it's not even magic because he refuses to use charm people on civilians, he's such a gentleman, he's just that charming. and the kids! he always stops to teach them and after a while even the kids from elturel didn't care about me anymore, it was all wyll this, wyll that, "yes karlach we've heard about how you defeated a cambion but it's cooler when uncle wyll tells it". ha! little turds. and the grandmas, man, i swear some of them straight up try to steal him from me-

it literally just keeps going and wyll can feel the heat spreading on his face but he's so pleased. he never knew being praised could feel this good, be coated in lightness instead of expectations, make him feel seen instead of heard of, make him feel whole and enough instead of constantly chasing a shadow of himself. and the love is so real and palpable because it's all stuff he does like it's breathing; it's part of who he is, it's wyll down to the bone and that's what she loves. and he's not sure he's ever been loved like this before, has ever enjoyed a compliment not because it felt some approval void he had in his chest but because it made him feel whole and enough. aooougggghjhhhhhhh

[elly99]

Cool With You

Contains swearing and revolves around anxiety.

Kim Minji for Vogue Korea. She glowed through your screen, as she did in real life, in stark contrast to the shadows rippling on your walls as you scrolled through the article. Her new song was on repeat. Quiet, but enough to fill the emptiness of the room. She was beautiful, you thought.

"My grandma always asks if I'm having a hard time and if I'm having fun. I didn't think much of it before. It just seemed like a normal way to ask how I was doing. But now, whenever I hear it, I reflect on myself a little more and my heart warms up, too. So I also try to ask the important people in my life the same thing. 'Have you been having a hard time? Are you happy?'"

You hear the words in her voice. She was so sweet, you thought.

Then the end of the song. A brief moment of complete silence before it repeats. A brief window for another voice to cut through.

Have you been having a hard time? Are you happy?

Your own. In your head.

Yes, you are having a hard time. You haven't been happy in months.

"Not again! I was just reading a fucking interview! What the fuck is wrong?"

If you're so important to her, why hasn't she asked you the same thing?

"Just stop. Just stop."

You're losing it. I know you are. I know you.

The song starts back up. It goes, "You know me like no other," but you didn't know who was talking anymore.

"No, I'm fine! I'm fine. I swear I'm..."

Suddenly the darkness of your room felt suffocating. You stand up quickly to turn on the light. But when you do the clarity is equally uncomfortable. All your insecurities, your fears, your worries in plain sight. You just want to hide. Turn off the light again. Sit back down.

"Ok, this is fine! I know how to deal with this. Just breathe slowly. Deep breaths through the nose. And count. One. Two."

Three. Four. Five. All this counting but when will you get your life together?

"Three. F-f-our..."

You try to get the words out but your lips won't cooperate. You can't feel them anymore. Just a tingling over your face. So instead you scream. In anger. Where is this coming from? Why couldn't you stop it? This didn't make sense. Stop feeling this way. This is stupid. Just be normal, you thought.

Of course it doesn't make sense. You're fucked up. You know that. Everybody does. Don't try to rationalize it because you won't be able to. You're not good enough for that.

You can't feel your legs. You can't feel your hands struggle to pick up your phone.

Wow. Are you really going to ask her to come over now? She's busy. Probably exhausted. The album is coming out tomorrow. Why the fuck would you bother her?

"Hey, babe! What's up?" The sound of her voice tethers you to the ground for a moment. Holds you close in the dark room.

"Minji, I... Hi!" You feign composure. But your chest was aching. "I-I'm good! I just wanted to hear your voice. H-How are you? Are you busy?"

"Well, I just got back from work..." she trails off. "Are you ok, baby?"

You're suddenly aware of your breath hitching. And you know she hears it, too. There was no point pretending. You needed her right now.

"Min... could you come over, please? I... can't..."

"Ok, I'm on my way." You hear her voice jump. Then her footsteps. She's running. "Baby, listen to me, ok? I'm on my way. Count down from 100 very slowly. And breathe deeply. If I'm not there yet, just count down again but I promise I'm coming. I love you."

She was so sweet, you thought, as your hands lost their grip on the phone. You smiled with tears running down your face.

"100. 99. 98. 97."

You know that's pointless right? The more techniques you use to try and stop it, the more you'll just remind yourself that you're a mess.

"96. 95. 94. 93."

Look at you go.

You clench your fists. Then your teeth. You still couldn't feel either of them.

"92. 91. 90. 89. 88."

You focus on breathing. Slowly. Lie down on the sofa and stare at the ceiling.

"59. 58. 57. I like 57."

You heard no reply. You felt calm. But you could never be too sure.

"17. 16. 15. 14."

Almost there. Where is she?

Shit. Focus. You shut your eyes and start whispering forcefully.

"She'll be here. 13. 12. 11. 10. 9. 8."

You hear your door unlock. Open your eyes and quickly stand up. A little too quickly. Your legs are still numb and you stumble. But she's there to catch you.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here. I brought our bear, too. Look!"

You look up and there she was. Your girlfriend and your bear. And the stuffed toy you both loved. She was smiling but her eyes were drowning in concern. She was so beautiful, you thought. She came all this way, carrying a huge toy, in the rain, after a very busy and tiring day, just for you. She was so sweet. She was so good to you.

She's too good to you. She's too good for you. You don't deserve this. You're not beautiful like her. You're not kind like her. You'll wear her out.

You couldn't take it anymore. You burst into tears in her arms. Breathing short and shallow.

She wraps one arm around you to pat your back and uses her other hand to pull your head towards her, stroking your hair softly.

"Baby, it's ok! I'm here now. I'm here. You're going to be ok."

You feel the warmth of her words penetrate the chaos of your mind. But there was still so much to get through. So much you were still feeling. Still so far from the ground. You cling to her tightly in desperation.

"Just hold on to me, ok? I'll take you to the couch. Let's go. Take your time."

She lifts you slightly. Not enough to carry you but enough to aid your trembling legs. She lies down first and beckons you to stay next to her.

"Come here. Let me spoon you, baby."

You do as you're told. Anything to keep you grounded. You knew her arms were the safest place in the world.

"Let's look at the ceiling together, ok? We've done this before. Tell me five things you can see in the room."

"Well... there's the ceiling... and the walls..."

"Mmhmm..."

"The door..."

"Yeah... that's three."

"I see your hands."

"Ok. One last thing."

"But you have two hands."

You can't see her face but you could tell she was smiling. She kisses your cheek.

"One more thing, babe."

"I see... your music video still playing on my laptop."

"Great. Ok. How about four things you can feel?"

"I can feel your hands. Your breathing. Your voice when you speak. And your warmth."

"I'll always keep you warm, babe." She kisses your cheek again. "Ok, now tell me three things you can hear."

"I can hear you. I can still hear Cool With You. And the rain outside."

"Now two things you can smell."

"Umm... I can smell your perfume." You pull a bunch of her hair close to your nose. "And your shampoo."

"Do you like the scent?"

"I do. I thought you didn't usually wear perfume, though."

"I felt like it today." Another kiss on the cheek. "Ok, for the last step, I came prepared. I brought chocolate. It's my superpower after all." She takes a small bar of chocolate out of her pocket and puts it in your hand. "What's one thing you can taste?"

"I taste this magic chocolate bar made by my Powerpuff Girl. This is really good actually."

"You must be hungry, baby. Want me to order food?"

"Yes, please."

After all that you're gonna make her order food?

You flinch. She knew what that meant. She holds you tighter.

"Hey, you're ok. Nothing to worry about. Just your girlfriend buying her favorite bunny some dinner."

She holds her phone in front of both of you. "What do you wanna eat, bunny?"

Even making simple decisions was hard. You flinch again. She holds you steady.

"Ok, ok. I'll choose for you." A kiss on the other cheek. "Done."

You feel yourself melting into her. Her warm embrace calming the storm in your mind just a little.

"Minji... thank you so much for this. For everything. For just being you. I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"Anything for you, baby. You know I love you, right?"

"I do. It's just I... Sometimes I don't believe it. Like, I'm just..."

She sits up and turns you towards her.

"Shhh. I know what you're going to say. Don't let that part of you even have a voice, babe. It doesn't deserve any space in your beautiful brain. We need to shut it out. Whenever it gets in the way, just listen to my voice. And even when I'm not around, I'm right here in your heart. Remember my words. You just have to listen."

"Minji..."

"And remember, when you feel that anxiety building, find where it is, grab it and throw it away. Just the act of physically trying to pull that anxiety out of your body can help. Even if it's not something you can really feel with your hands, the effect is real. You learned this, remember? You can do it. I love you so much. Ok?"

"Ok..."

She hugs you tight again.

"Let's talk about something else! Did you like Cool With You?"

The shift in her tone briefly lifts your mood.

"I loved it! It was soooo good. So cool. You're so cool, babe!"

"Aw, thanks, honey! We worked really hard on it. Glad you enjoyed!"

"You always work so hard..."

The way you trail off lets her know what you're really thinking. What you were about to say. Again she knows just what to do and cuts you off with another question.

"Are you excited for the rest?"

"Of course! I'm excited for anything you do."

"And I'm excited to share it with you! I like sharing my life with you."

Slowly she was pulling you back down. You were almost there. You begin to remember what normal conversation was like. For a while you lie in silence. Nothing but the sound of the rain and the song still on repeat on your laptop. But you can still hear faint thunder in the distance. Both outside your apartment and in your head.

"Do you mind me asking what the trigger was tonight? You know I just wanna help."

"I was just reading your Vogue interview while listening to the new song and somehow it all just came crashing down. It never really makes sense when it starts. But I was just reading how you said you wanted to ask the important people in your life if they were having a hard time and if they were happy. It just triggered a spiral of thoughts. Immediately I was reminding myself I wasn't happy."

"So... it was me?" The sadness in her voice hits hard.

"No, no! Of course not, baby. It's all me. My biggest insecurity is that I'm just this ugly, unhappy person just dragging you down. Like, why can't I be happy like you? Why don't I have my life together the way you do? I can't help but compare cuz you're just so amazing and out of this world to me. And that's not on you. That's just something I have to work out myself."

"Hey, no..." She tries to stop you but it all comes rushing out.

"And you're so pretty. You're so sweet. You're so talented and successful. Like, there's literally nothing to fault about you. You just feel so perfect and I just feel so inadequate next to you. That's why sometimes my brain gets in the way and doesn't believe that you could love me."

You notice tears start to form in her eyes.

"I really hate when you talk like that about yourself. It hurts. Cuz you'd never talk like that about me. Or anyone else for that matter. Why be so hurtful to yourself..."

"I know, baby. I just can't help it..."

"No. You can help it." Her voice was firm now. "We'll work on it together. Do it for yourself. And for me, too. Because it hurts when you refuse to see why I love you and why there's so much to love about you."

"I know you love me. It's just that I get so scared all the time that you'll get sick of me or I'll just drag you down because I've been a mess lately. I want to be good enough for you but faking confidence or pretending I'm ok doesn't really work."

"But you are good enough! I know you haven't been well lately but you've always gone above and beyond for me. The word inadequate shouldn't even be in the same universe as you. And it's ok to be a mess! It's ok to not know where you're going yet. I just found my career very young but that has nothing to do with how good you are and how successful you can be. We may have different paths but that's ok! We're in this together. I'm with you to the end, ok?"

You knew she was right. But it was just so hard. As you nod weakly in agreement, she pulls you in for another hug. She speaks more slowly now. Gentle and caring. You feel her voice reverberate in your chest.

"I'm so excited for your future. You may not see it yourself but I know you're gonna be amazing. Because you are amazing. You just need to trust yourself, baby. The real you. The one who knows all the reasons you're wonderful and why I love you. Do you want me to remind you?"

She pulls away with a smile on her face. Her smile that could outshine a thousand galaxies. Her smile that could comfort you a million times over.

"Actually, you have no choice. I'm going to remind you. Let me spoon you again."

You eagerly oblige, falling quickly into the safety of her embrace.

"Close your eyes and just listen to my voice, ok? So, do you remember when you first came to Korea? When we first became friends and you learned Korean in a year just for me?"

"Yeah."

"What does that say about you?"

"I don't know..."

"You do know. It means you're smart, hardworking and dedicated. And a sweetheart. Now you say it to yourself."

"I... um... what do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Say it to yourself like you're complimenting a friend."

"I'm smart, hardworking and dedicated."

"Don't forget the last part."

"And I'm a sweetheart," you say, blushing.

"Yes, you are! Now remember when you started having a hard time and you reached out for help? You went to therapy and shared with me everything you learned there and what you talked about? You were at your most vulnerable and you still shared everything with me. That takes strength and courage."

"I have strength and courage." You pause. "This sounds cheesy."

"No, you're doing a great job, babe. Just keep going. Ok, now, remember when I was a trainee, whenever I'd have super long days, you'd come over to my place just to drop off some coffee or my favorite ice cream? What does that say about you?"

"I'm thoughtful and caring," you say, smiling this time.

"Good! You did it without me telling you. That's your confidence building! And do you remember all the gifts you got for me, my members and my family? There's too many to count."

"Does that mean I'm kind and generous? This feels weird. This just feels like I'm showing off."

"But who are you talking to?"

"You."

"No, you're talking to yourself. I've heard you give all these compliments to me before. And many more. Now you're just complimenting yourself. And it's not like you're lying to yourself. You know everything is true. You just need to be confident and admit it to yourself out loud. Take care of yourself like you take care of me all the time, ok? Be kind to yourself like you're kind to everyone around you. You need to be your friend, too."

"I'll try. But doesn't it sound like showing off? Like I'm too proud of myself?"

"You're just reassuring a friend! Telling them all the ways they're worth loving. It's not like you're going around telling everyone how good you are."

"Is this how you're always so confident, babe?"

"I guess!"

"You're incredible."

"So are you! Incredibly cute I might add."

You're blushing again. In the dark she couldn't see it clearly, but she knew you well enough to know that you were. Somewhere in the room the song repeats again.

"Do you feel cool with me, baby?"

"I really do, Min. You really do know me like no other. The way you helped me tonight - it's like you could read my mind. It's just like you said. 'What's the best?'"

"너의 옆에 내가 있을 때."

"Exactly. When you're here with me I feel safe."

You open your eyes. Saying those words out loud was the last thing you needed. You landed. She brought you all the way back. You were home. And she could tell by the way you were smiling.

"I'll always be here for you." She smiled in return. "Cuz I know you're always there for me, bro."

The first chuckle out of you that night.

"How are you feeling, baby?"

"I think I'm good, Min. Thanks again. You're the best. The best thing that's ever happened to me. I love you so fucking much."

"Then don't swear at me, bro!"

The first real laugh out of you that night. And she echoes it.

"Do you hear me, baby? Do you hear me laughing with you?"

"I do."

"You hear just me?"

"Yes. Just you."

"Do you see me? Focus on my eyes."

You turn around to look at her and see the way her eyes sparkle with encouragement. Her endearing smile pulling you out of the dark. Into the light with her.

"I see you." You smile. "But it's a bit blurry cuz I've been crying."

"That's ok! Can you feel my hands?" she asks as she gently takes both your hands in hers and caresses them slowly. "I've missed holding your hands."

"I can feel you. But my fingers are still a little tingly. And shaky."

She pulls your hands towards her and kisses both. "That's ok, too." She smiles again. "And you know, we listed reasons to love someone, but at the end of the day, love isn't a rational thing, either. The strongest love has no reason. Who knows why we fall in love? All I know is that I fell in love with you because you're you. And that'll always be reason enough for me."

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Five

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 469 ~ Jake

The house sat at the top of a steep incline, up a winding driveway that had begun to be reclaimed by nature. Cracks in the cement where little shrubs had started to grow and leaves that were never blown away. Neglected and abandoned.

It reminded me a little of Josh's house. With pristine edges and white walls, coveted by obscure works of art. Book shelves that were gathering dust and kitchen utensils left out on the surfaces as if the owners had just stepped out of the room.

Amelia seemed to know where she was going. "I found this place a couple of months after I moved into Grandma's cabin."

She led me down a narrow corridor, flanked by a bank of full length windows overlooking a sweeping back yard that was shrouded by trees. Photo's of the family who once lived there sitting on the wall opposite, happy faces forever immortalised for no one else to ever see.

"I hit every house within a 10 mile radius. Looking for supplies, anything that I could use. Food, toiletries. And I was about to leave when I noticed this..."

She stopped at the end of the corridor, leaning against a nondescript door. Her face sincere as she ran hands up my arms, coming to rest around my shoulders.

"We have to take whatever joy we can find in this world." She said, "And if we're lucky, we'll take back some of the joys we had before."

I'd known nothing but joy since I'd almost died. There wasn't a single moment I'd had with her that hadn't made me question whether I would take any of it back to have the world filled with every other person I'd ever loved again.

It was something I'd wrestled with. The notion that I could happily exist in a world I'd come to hate simply because she was in it with me. I was thinking about Josh again when she opened the door, simply because I'd been reminded of him. And the certainty within which I knew I wouldn't take any of it back, even if it meant having him back, drew a conflict within the likes of which I'd never known before.

But it was all for nothing. As I stepped into the room she'd been eager to show me, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I loved her enough to never want the old world back.

"Amelia..." I gasped. "What in the...fuck."

Mounted on an oak panelled wall were an array of vintage guitars. A brazilian board 1959 Gibson Les Paul. Shining in the last rays of the afternoon sun. I reached out and touched it, trembling as my fingers remembered what it felt like to know strings. A custom Fender strat in dark red with a black mottled pattern that looked like spilled paint if you looked too closely. A plain red stratocaster and an acoustic Martin dreadnought with a mahogany neck.

"I know that you said you didn't play anymore. Not without your brothers. But I think you should play again. For them. To them. And maybe somehow, I don't know how insane it might be, but maybe they'll hear you. Wherever they are..."

She was nervous. Biting her lip and wringing her hands in the sleeves of her sweater. Anticipating that I'd reject the sweetness of her idea, of this perfect gift.

"You brought me here because you knew that I would love it, didn't you?" I asked, although it wasn't really a question.

"Is that so bad?" She replied, opening her arms as if I would somehow be mad at her.

The room was decked out with framed vinyls. Some were so old I'd never seen them before. There were a few more guitars leaned up against the opposite wall and a beaten up drum kit in the window. It looked as if it had been played to death, with the cymbals hanging off and the kick drum looked as if one more pound on it would tear it right in half.

"It's not bad at all, why would you think that?" I pulled her into me, her little body slotting into my embrace like it had always meant to be there. "Just because I said I didn't play anymore doesn't mean I wouldn't love this."

She rested her head against my shoulder. Let me sway her back and forth a little. Everything was so eerily quiet. Up here the wind howled a little more than it did around the cabin. It sounded like ghosts were singing to us, begging me to pick up one of those fine old ladies.

"Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I just wanted to hear you for myself." She looked up at me, resting her lips on my jawline.

"Plenty have paid for the privilege." I replied, "What will you pay me for a private show?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I saved your life. This is you paying me, sweet thing."

She laughed and buried her face into my neck, kissing me there and holding me tight around my waist. Familiar and wholesome. Like she hadn't tried to push me away at all in the beginning.

She was the most incredible woman I had ever known. Her fears were like shadows now, she had this uncanny ability to turn them into her most beloved passions. Once she had been afraid to love me. And now, the ways in which she loved me were making me feel unworthy of it.

"Sometimes I don't think you realise how much you saved me." I told her, casting my eye on the acoustic. "Not just from that car wreck. But from a life of misery."

Of course I would play for her. If not her, then nobody. She made herself comfortable on a shaggy looking bean bag, folding herself into it and resting her head against her curled fist as she regarded me. I pulled the mahogany acoustic down from the wall, not wanting to tend to wires and amps just yet.

I considered coming up with something on the fly, but it had been so long since I had tinkered with strings that my mind began to wander so far away I couldn't make them work. I strummed a little, hearing the notes play out and something weird happened. I thought I'd never feel this ever again, this visceral wave that washed over me to the point of almost growing hard as I felt the back of the guitar against my groin.

Her eyes widened. She wasn't prepared.

"How does it make you feel, to have an audience again?" She asked softly, seductively.

The strings needed tuning a little. I turned the keys at the top of the neck, plucking out chords until they sounded pitch perfect.

"Sexy." I replied, "I always felt sexy whenever I went out on stage. They made me feel sexy. Kinda the same way you are now. Knowing they want to fuck you every time you play for them."

I didn't realise how much I missed the adrenaline. The feral cries of a crowd. Their voices rising in unison. Lights and screaming and the feeling that I might ascend with their love. I'd been someone in my life before. I'd known what it felt like to open my eyes and know I was doing something I loved completely. I hadn't felt like this in what felt like a life time.

"This is who you are, Jake." She uttered, sliding her hand down the curve of her hips. "You can't run from who you are forever."

I felt as if I didn't deserve her. For all she had done for me, for how incredible she was. There was no crowd that could ever compare to the way I felt in that moment playing for her.

"I can't sing our songs like Josh could." I confessed, "I'd be a poor imitation. But I'll try."

I couldn't hold the same power with my voice that my brother could. The part of me that had promised never to play again still sat in the shadows whispering to me that it would never be the same. But louder than that was Amelia's face watching me strum out the first chords of a song that meant everything to me.

"What's it called?" She asked.

Day 469 ~ Amelia

I knew he would love it. I'd all but forgotten about the little music room at the back of the big house on the corner of the road that led into Lafayette. It had meant nothing to me the first time I'd ventured in there. There was nothing in there that was of any use to me.

But today, it was like seeing the sun peek out from a grey cloud. I'd gone from doing everything in my power to ensure that he was never necessary to me, to doing everything in my power just to see him smile.

"It's called Broken Bells." He replied, "Josh used to say that it was about seeing that when things sometimes feel broken most of the time they're just lessons sent to help us see that everything will be alright in the end. I really wish he could be here to see that he was so fucking right."

What would I have done if he hadn't felt the same? I could feel myself dying a little inside at the melancholy way he played. His face expressing his grief. He played so hauntingly beautifully, in a way I hadn't really been prepared for. He closed his eyes and didn't even need to look at the way his fingers moved across the strings. He knew them, and they responded to him so lovingly. Almost as if they were an entity all of their own, able to come when he called.

If he hadn't have loved me in return I'd have been driven mad by it. Every rational bone in my body broken if I'd been forced to live beside him unrequited. I began to understand how lucky and fortunate I was as he began to sing. That he and I were somehow fated. And it wasn't just a coincidence that he was driving past me that day. He was creation and I was necessity. He'd made music for a world that needed to hear it and I'd treated them when they were sick. And for some unfathomable reason, we'd been left behind to exist together in this empty world.

But empty didn't have to mean broken. There was nothing but love in the world again. Nothing but this painful song that made tears spill from my eyes as I watched him and listened. What if this song was the only one being played? And the only one being listened to? I had hope that if anyone else had been left behind that they had somehow managed to find each other and find love within it.

"That was...beautiful." I sobbed, laughing at myself for crying at it.

He put down the guitar and came to me. Launching himself into the bean bag, the scrunchy sound of tiny styrofoam balls moving around as he wiggled into the space beside me.

"It always got an emotional reaction whenever we played it." He sighed, trailing soft palms down the side of my face. "It felt like people resonated with our songs for all different kinds of reasons. But with Broken Bells it always felt we were all on the same page. All of us feeling the same thing at the same time."

How could I have ever doubted him? This beautiful man with his beautiful music?

"I was just thinking, while you were playing it, that I hoped that somewhere out there that other people were listening to songs for the first time. That they'd found each other and found love, even in a world seemingly broken." I countered, feeling the heat of that familiar rush when I knew he was about to make love to me.

"If they aren't, then we have to love for all of those who can't." He said, trailing kisses down my jaw line.

Sometimes it felt silly. The things we said to each other. Things in the dead of night. In the cold light of day. In the middle of the afternoon when he was at his most sleepy, when he would linger in the kitchen looking to score a bowl of stew or soup before curling up on the couch with a book before he would fall asleep.

Even now, I could feel him nuzzle in. Our bodies entwined on the bean bag lazily tracing his thumb over my nipple as he sucked the flesh on my neck into perfect little shapes of his mouth.

"So, you really do like it?" I checked, just wanting to hear him say it one more time.

"Oh, yeah." He yawned, "That Les Paul is coming home with us for sure. And maybe I'll come back for the Strat, too."

I was wearing the black yoga pants I saved for hiking. The ones that I wore to collect fire wood. To muck out the horses and clear out the chicken coop. I never felt particularly sexy in them, or desirable. It felt almost like we'd become accustomed to seeing each other in our most desolate states.

But when he slipped them down around the curve of my ass and hitched me around so I was facing away from him, I was glad that I'd worn them. The way he pressed his hard on into my back and continued to roll my nipple around between his fingers as he breathed harder into my ear was the blessing I'd needed to know that I'd done the right thing.

We were both tired from the hike. Our bodies crying out for rest. The afternoon sun began to slip away, making room for cloud and darkness. I was acutely aware that there was no power in this house. No electricity. No running water. No heat. It was in my mind to interrupt his ministrations with these facts, but as his hand slipped below, coming up into my entrance from behind, I lost all manner of speech.

"You gonna let me thank you properly?" He asked, slaking two fingers inside me slowly. "Be my good girl and let me show you how much I love you?"

I was in no mood to protest. I watched the light outside fade as he ran stripes up my slit and into my clit. Whispering obscenities and freeing himself one handedly as he played with me. Letting his cock rest between his stomach and the curve of my ass, leaking a little against our flesh.

"Can you feel it?" He breathed, "How much I love you?"

It was all I could feel. There was no house. No darkness. No eerie silence as the wind rushed through the trees. Howling like there was someone out there to hear it. Only Jakes breath, the bean bag as it shuffled beneath us, and the sound of my untamed scream as he penetrated me.

He didn't try to quieten me. Buffeting my wild moans with deep thrusts that came like chasms to break me in half. Each time he bottomed out, he savoured it. Taking the briefest of moments to feel me clenched around him before pulling back slowly. The need to fuck and the need to sleep battling it out for supremacy.

"Pretty fucking grateful, aren't you?" I replied, leaning my head back into his waiting mouth.

When he was like this, all in need and eager to satisfy any way that he could, I often thought back to how it had been that first time. On the ground in the mud, knees caked in it and the earth beating in time with us. And how in the time since, we'd leisurely made love on the kitchen floor some mornings. In the shower, just stroking each other to pass the time. Him, on top of me, in the bed we now shared. And me, arms around the trunk of a tree whilst he fucked me from behind out in the woods even though it was still a little cold out there.

"For this pussy? Always." He purred into my ear, like he was serenading me.

I knew that I'd never tire of it. The way he felt inside me. The way he fit so perfectly. I never felt so full, like something had been made just for me. He wasn't just rhythm and blues, he was equipped to make me quiver with the mere mention that he might take me right there and then.

I'd lament it later on. How all my lovers before him had been lacking. How I'd swiped left and right, attended blind dates and settled when I shouldn't have. For men that couldn't make me cum or men who couldn't text me back.

"Mmmmm..." I murmured softly, arching against his quickening pace. "It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

The gentle laughter that expelled from his mouth against the shell of my ear was like summer rain. Teasing my senses, touch taste and scent. His hair was sweat drenched at his temples, as it often was when he fucked me, and I could taste the salt of it in his kiss.

"She speaks so highly of me." He breathed, "Now let her know no other man will ever have her..."

He would claim me. Over and over again. Even when there was no other to counter his claim. I let his hand wrap around my throat, edging me to the distance it would take to push me over the edge of the world. Thrusting into me so hard my entire body shook. I knew the bean bag had ripped at some point, sending the tiny little white foam balls scattered across the room. But I didn't care.

I'd keep finding them in strange places for weeks afterwards. As he rolled me onto the floor and continued to pound me, vicious and unrelenting. He'd never silenced my mewling cries before, content to let them ring out into the ether.

But not this time. It was like his gratitude couldn't be satisfied until he could hear the one sound he desired. His body raged on top of mine, our clothes half on and half off. His sweaty palm came to rest over my open mouth. Muffling my cries to a dull humm. His eyes silently pleading with me to let them die. And to just listen...

"Hush." He encouraged, resting his mouth against the back of his hand as he continued.

There it was. Against the backdrop of the breeze outside. The sound of how wet I was. His cock hitting my satiated pussy. Moist flesh against moist flesh. The most inconceivable feeling washed over me. This man, the only man that ever was, wanted to silence my mouth only to better hear the sound of my pussy being fucked.

And the drop of his eyelids as he listened had me in another state of being. Half closed and fucked with desire for the way it slipped in and out, wet and completely his.

"Thankyou, my love." He whispered, before he allowed himself to cum.

I was never certain if it was for the music, or the way I let him fuck me. I didn't really care. I let my own orgasm rise moments later, the two of us breathless and spent on the gutted belly of that old bean bag.

Day 470 ~ Amelia

We hunkered down for the night. Choosing to make our way back at first light, gathering all the blankets we could find and sleeping on the couches that were, quite simply, more luxurious than any couch we could have gotten in the cabin.

Jake took the one opposite me, falling asleep first. His gentle snores lulling me into my own dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all before my eyes sprang open, the red of morning creeping in.

I rubbed my eyes and stretched. Taking a moment to recall where I was. This place was eerie, even in daylight. And I wished that there were something, anything...that would remind me that people had once lived here. The ticking of a clock, perhaps. Or the grass being cut outside. I could have laid there a little longer, still tired and drowsy, but I was eager to be gone.

I kicked off the blankets and expected Jake to be laying there, ever the one to wake up last, but my heart fell into my stomach at the sight of the empty couch. Blankets still left precisely where he had kicked them off.

"Jake?!" I called, expecting his voice to filter down the hall from the music room.

Silence.

"Jake?!" I called again, pulling on my pants and shoes as I made my way through the house.

I expected to find him gathering up all the instruments he wanted to take. Agonising over which ones to take now and which ones to come back for. But there was nothing but the aftermath of what we'd done. And all the guitars were accounted for.

"Jake, this isn't funny." I cried, checking behind the curtains like a child playing hide and seek. "Jake, I'm being serious now!!!"

Panic began to rise in my chest. My heart soaring, making me dizzy as I flew through the house. Room after room coming up empty.

"Jake!!!" I screamed, running now. "Jake please!!!"

Had I ever given myself permission to imagine this, I would have driven myself mad. That one day he would simply vanish, like everyone else had, and truly I would have walked to my death in that moment. I had no desire to live in a world void of the man I loved.

"JACOB!!!" My voice broke on his name as I fell out of the door and into the back yard. "PLEASE!!!!"

I fell to my knees on gravel. Crying. Racking sobs expelled from me as I took fists full of tiny pebbles that cut into my flesh as I squeezed. I felt as if I couldn't breathe. My chest was tight, all the horror of him disappearing coursing through my veins as tears spilled down my flushed cheeks.

"Jake, I can't do this...you have to come back..." I begged, broken and beyond redemption.

In a matter of moments I'd gone from waking up, to screaming on my knees. I'd have thought it a nightmare had I not already endured one. The reality of this feeling was one I knew. Only this time, intensified by a love that had known no bounds. I could live in an empty world before I'd ever known him.

Not anymore.

To be Continued...

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@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy @char289

[gumnut-logic]

Incidental

Sparked by this prompt, this is for all the Scotty whump fans. A random ficlet giving our eldest boi a hard time...but then John spoke up. Johnny has a lot to say today :D

Many thanks to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for reading through and discussing this insanity.

I hope it makes sense. I may have hit him on the head one too many times. Also language warning, Johnny gets potty mouth. His brothers really are going to be his downfall.

-o-o-o-

There was smoke.

It was everywhere.

But other than that, there was silence.

No, not silence. Someone was talking.

In his ear.

Calling a name.

His name?

“Scott! Virgil is on his way. Sit down and stop moving!”

What?

He turned slowly and the world turned with him. Somewhere in his midriff, something complained and he clutched his hand to his belly as if to hold it in.

But he didn’t stop turning.

Or did he? The world certainly didn’t, parading smoke blasted landscape around and around him.

“Scott please!”

John.

The voice was John. A beloved space brother ever watching over them, keeping them safe. “I love you, Johnny.” His voice was little more than a rasp.

“Scott.” His brother’s voice was ever so soft, caring and strong. “Please sit down. Virgil is coming as fast as he can.”

Virgil? Fast? Scott snickered and that something in his middle complained again.

He groaned.

But he clung to the amusing thought of his biggest little brother doing anything fast. Virgil never did anything without thought and planning. That was his job. That was him. Reliable, strong, and always there.

But not now.

Scott tried to turn but his head decided to join his belly in complaining.

Where the hell was he?

Smoke drifted past in grey shadows. It obscured the sun.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, his military training kicked in. It was like a switch being flicked, changing the world around him.

Smoke meant fire.

Or detonation.

Or collision.

He took a few steps forward, one hand swiping at the tendrils of smoke floating past, trying to swipe them away.

They danced more, but mostly ignored him.

So he had to walk further.

“Scott, please.” There was a pleading emotion in his brother’s voice, a desperation.

“I’m okay, John. Don’t worry.” It was automatic.

There was a curse in a language Scott had no hope of recognising. But he didn’t have any time to consider it as the words that followed were clearly in English.

“Fuck! He’s still alive. Scott, move!”

Scott blinked, confused. “John?”

“Threat at two o’clock, Commander. Move!”

No thought, just response. Scott threw himself to his left and rolled across the dirt to end up in some dry grass he hadn’t seen.

“Tracy! I know you’re here! I don’t die that easy. You’ve gone soft.”

That voice.

Cold seeped into his veins.

That voice.

“Come on, Tracy, you have to have more than that. You have all that tech and that’s all you can do?”

Do? What had he done?

He fought his foggy head. There had been a callout. Virgil had been painting something.

Something.

Something for Grandma.

So Scott had taken the call.

To his left an engine engaged and something moved in the smoke.

That voice yelled, panicked even.

And was suddenly cut off.

There was a hiss in his ear.

“John?”

“It’s okay, Scott. Threat neutralised.” An indrawn breath. “Virgil is on approach. Stay where you are.”

And he could suddenly hear his brother’s ‘bird. The smoke parted, the fire of VTOL and green cahelium took over from the grey. Reassurance welled inside.

Scott pushed himself to his feet as he stared up at Thunderbird Two, dropping to a smooth landing not far off.

John cursed in his ear. “For the love of-“

Scott ignored him.

Because the smoke had cleared to reveal…

A man lay limp in the grip of a pod, one of its big grippers, used for moving heavy objects. A gun lay discarded on the ground. The remains of a building, the obvious source of the smoke, lay beyond.

But the man…

“Scott!” This time it was Virgil’s deep voice in his ear. “For the love of god, sit down!” Out of the corner of his eye he could see his uniformed brother running towards him across the scarred landscape.

But the man…

Bereznik. The bastard had lured him here. He stared at the scarred face. Lured him. Or his brothers. It could have been Virgil answering the call.

It usually would have been.

But Scott took it instead.

The chances?

Fired burned in his belly, an anger, a hate. This man haunted his dreams, tortured him in his sleep.

Now here was here.

A hand landed on Scott’s arm.

No!

He struck out, pushing the hand away, stepping back from the face, the scar that…

“Scott!” Another face suddenly blocked out everything. Virgil, his hair askew, his eyes desperate brown, his heavy lifting hands gripping Scott’s shoulders and moving him gently. “Sit down. You are injured.”

Those eyes fixated on his. They wouldn’t let him look away.

“Virgil?”

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

Familiar words. Words that often followed his nightmares.

“Virgil-“ But his head was caught between dream and reality, protect and defend. “He can’t have you.” He struggled in a breath. “He can’t.”

The hands on his shoulders gently squeezed. “He won’t. I promise.”

Brown eyes, ever so faithful.

“Virg-…I…” Words were too hard.

Strong arms were suddenly holding him and gently lowering him to the ground. “I’ve got you, big brother.” A breath in his ear. “I’ve got you.”

The ground was softer than he remembered. Virgil immediately started muttering medical words to their brother in the sky. The medic poked and prodded Scott’s belly, lighting fires that took away thought.

A sting in his thigh and he was floating away.

He was consumed by the roar of his brother’s ‘bird.

-o-o-o-

He was woken by soft snoring.

A blink or two and he discovered white sheets and a mop of dark hair.

Virgil.

His brother’s name sparked a sudden fear, a need to protect. He-

A strong but gentle hand held his shoulder down on the bed and Scott turned his head to find John sitting on his other side. “Keep quiet. He’s been up at least thirty-six hours. He’s as stubborn as you.”

“Wha-?” Scott swallowed. “Situation report.”

Did John roll his eyes?

“You are in hospital. They had to remove a bullet out of your intestines.”

Scott blinked.

“Virgil?”

“Virgil is as much an idiot as you.” John relaxed back a moment letting out a breath. “He’s fine. Evacuated you, been fretting ever since.”

Scott looked over at the mop of dark hair. Virgil was still in his uniform, though his baldric and harness were draped over a chair on the other side of the room. A breath. “Situation report.”

Another sigh. “The GDF have secured the site. Lady Penelope is negotiating the retrieval of our pod. Thunderbird One is back in her hangar, safe and sound.”

Scott blinked again. His ‘bird? An image of smoke clearing and her silver hull gleaming in the dull light. Something settled inside of him. She was safe.

His family was safe.

But…

“What about-“

“Colonel De Falco is dead.”

The name etched itself into his chest. “John-“

John’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” His brother reached out and rested a hand quietly on Scott’s shoulder.

“How?” He fought his foggy memory. An explosion. The realisation. The anger.

The fear.

But Scott was a different man now. De Falco didn’t know who he was up against.

They had fought. There had been a gun, but Scott had subdued him.

Subdued him.

The pain in his belly.

The threat.

“It was you.”

Aquamarine blinked at him, calm and controlled. “He wanted you. I couldn’t let him.”

“You killed him.” His throat hurt.

John shrugged. “Incidental. There was no choice.” His brother held his gaze, unrepentant.

Scott swallowed. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, big brother.” John’s expression softened a moment, looking away, before frowning just a little and turning back to him. “Just…” Those eyes flickered to Virgil and back. “Just rest, okay?”

Scott stared at him. “Okay.”

His space brother wilted a little, tense muscles relaxing where he sat.

“Thank you.”

-o-o-o-

[number1rizgukgakstan]

FANTASY HIGH JUNIOR YEAR EPISODE 18 LIVEBLOG

It's that time again! Spoilers below the cut!

The only CW being underage drinking + drug use is fascinating- I assume that means no one dies? At least, not like Buddy did.

I'm SO excited looking at that set it's so fucking cool. The crackling in the fake clouds? HOLY SHIT the modeling team went OFF I love their work.

I FORGOT JAWBONE'S THERE. AND SO IS EUGENIA. This is so insane I'm so excited.

"Airitime law" God I love you so much Zach you are SO FUNNY

The WHOLE school is here that's so funny. Does this mean the clubs Riz joined are going to come into play?? GERTIE??? GERTIE???? HEY GERTIE???

The divine domain idea is so fascinating but I would like to say- imagine worshiping a god named Porter. I'm crying laughing.

CURSED GOLD PIECE??? FUCK YEAH GO FOR IT FABIAN

RAGH IS HERE??? FUCK YEAH!

Okay we're getting the NPCS set up? Fuck yeah

FIG NO WHY ARE YOU WANDA CHILDA???? THATS SO FUNNY. Gerard Neigh I'm CRYING. I love Armor of Ayda and the Spirit Guardians.

VULTURE KING LIVER + TALON FOR FABIAN In BAD! BABY! MILK!

WHY IS GORGUG SWALLOWING THE HEART LIKE A PILL??? INSANE

EAT THE FEATHER??? FIG YOU DON"T HAVE TO EAT IT ITS JUST WHEN BROKEN [sobs]

"You're wearing an Orangutang mask and the skull of the Vulture King?"

"And I'm speaking Vulture.

"And you're speaking Vulture."

Adaine is so brilliant I love her.

K2 giving Kristen basically a whole extra turn is so funny. We love K2.

They have so many spells prepared I love it. Fabian's party sounds sick as hell. Even the Bad Baby milk sounds fun. Disgusting but fun.

I feel like using the NMK against Kristen is a bad idea but will have terrible consequences for Kristen, who's silly goofyness has been coming back to bite them. IDK we'll see

Fabian faking it till he makes it is SO FUNNY.

Baby and Baby Baby being here's so fucking funny. Let's go Baby and Baby Baby!

Fabian's HOUSE burning down would be devastating but maybe it'd make his mother come home

CANNONS!!! PUT BABY BABY ON THE CANNONS

They have to DO ELECTIONS and RUN THE PARTY WHILE FIGHTING??? BRENNAN LEE MULLIGAN THIS IS INSANE I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

Kristen and K2 helping Riz load the canon is so wholesome. They're such a great team

NOOOO FABIAN HAS THE PACMAN TATTOO [laughing crying] RIP

1/4th of the party voting in one turn is absurd. Fabian's charisma is INSANE i love this man and his conga line

Jawbone once again completely out of the loop and just going with it is great.

I now see why Sprak has his own art.

The music video idea was genuis. Emily Axford is such a quick thinker and her performance as Fig is top-knotch.

Oisin summoning dragons breaks my heart. NOOO you were so cool :( now Adaine has to Furious Fist Mega Punch you to death

This fight is honestly so fucking metal. The music video, Fabian killing a dragon singlehandidly, Riz murdering two with the canons, all the Dex saves, Gorgug's excellent driving, JAWBONE, the voting drive... honestly I'm so proud of the Bad Kids and how far they've come.

ANOTHER GORGUG NAT 20 HOLY SHIT! Zac's really fucking it up right now. 7d12 is absurd

Wanda Childa running the party is so insane and I love it. It's Emily Axford's world and we're just living in it.

Eugenia Shadow is amazing. Best NPC by far.

"Can I bring a vulture to give me the help action?" absurd request. brennan's face was brilliant. Again: ITS EMILY AXFORD'S WORLD AND WE'RE JUST LIVING IN IT.

The fight. Every moment was incredible. They really did slay those god damn dragons. No one had to make a single death save. The party was popping. Fig was constantly being the fucking COOLEST. Fabian telling Gorgug not to crash his parent's boat. Eugenia Shadow telling Riz he's the best student she's ever had. It was brilliant. Excellent.

"Sorry Oisin, shouldn't have been such a douchebag, we're gonna kill your grandma now" BRILLIANT. 10/10. I love it.

AS SOON AS SHE SAID DIVINE INTERVENTION I FUCKING CHEERED. K2 DIES TO SAVE THE WORLD BY SAYING "BLIMEY" NOT FUCKING CLICKBAIT.

Zac doing the dm bit is so funny.

K2 not knowing shit and pulling off a miracle is such pure Kristen its so fucking brilliant. THE UNCERTAINTY OF MAYBE BEING PREGNANT IS INSANE. I love Ally Beardsley.

Brennan's reaction to the pregnancy bit is so fucking funny. They broke this man's spirit in the funniest way possible.

"Haunted Wizard Clone Mini Golf Lightning Extravaganza" is the single funniest string of words imaginable. Brennan Lee Mulligan you are my favorite comedian ever.

"How much of this can we cut out, do you think?" Ally this is your bed, you have to lie in it, I'm so sorry. Funniest roll of all time.

WE ALMOST GOT THE GOLD TORNADO?? NOOOOOO.

Circling back, the flavor of Armor of Ayda is so cute. Ayda's protection is always over Fig no matter where she is.

THEY FUCKING DID IT GANG! Now for the penultimate battle! :]

The previews are making me go insane. RATGRINDERS FIGHT RATGRINDERS FIGHT RATGRINDERS FIGHT!

"I think I have to try" is making me so fucking excited. WHAT ARE YOU TRYING FIG????

LETS FUCKING GO! NEXT WEEK BABYYYYYY

[fools-task-force]

random cod hcs #1 - graves

a handful of random headcanons about phillip graves (note i've only played the reboots). these just feel right, i have no basis other than this fits him

he's from either tennesse or oklahoma. he gets very offended whenever someone assumes he's from texas, which happens a lot, especially when interacting with people not from the states

yes, he is very much so a country boy. he doesn't have his accent as much anymore but if you piss him off it will come out fully, that's how the shadows learned to tell if he's truly angry or not. if the accent is clear as crystal, you best be on your best behavior

he uses southern phrases so often that by now all of the shadows know a good amount, even have started using them themselves. others still confuse the shadows. what the hell is a month of sundays?

he will say "darlin" to damn near anyone. "come again, darlin?" "darlin, could you pass that over?", etc, even to people he doesn't get along with; "you aren't challengin me, are ya, darlin?". he picked it up from his grandma. the shadows are used to it, but no one outside the shadows knows how to respond

he's damn good at singing, and can play guitar (the latter of which he tries to keep secret, it's just his thing). yes, he mostly plays country songs, but the shadows have overheard him playing songs they've played. no one mentions it, though

on the topic of music he loves luke bryan, because fuck you i like luke bryan. for the same reason, he likes cooper alan and dierks bentley

man is a good cook, loves making breakfast especially. eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, you get it. sometimes he'll mix it up with some pancakes, but that's for special occasions

he refuses to eat chicken. why? because he grew up raising them, he'd name every chicken when he was young. it hurts his inner child to eat them. he does however love eggs

he also raised goats, had dogs, and his family had a horse or two. also they grew their own vegetables, and would trade with some families that grew fruits or whatever else

[seek--rest]

regarding your tags on the challengers sauna scene: what's your interpretation of that conversation? it's loaded and seems difficult to parse. i think i know what you mean about fandom taking it in another direction but im just curious and would love to hear your breakdown!

I have SO much to say about challengers and having rewatched it several times now, I am STILL continuously baffled at how people read the sauna scene.

At this point, Art and Patrick are adults. This is post Atlanta, marriage, a kid. I won’t get too much into the other fandom theories related to that (other than to say that they’re fucking stupid), but I think Atlanta is significant to the sauna scene only in so much as it forms some of the perspective.

We have to remember that these characters were best friends LONG before we met them. They grew up together, lived together, got off together (at least one time, though there’s no implication that this happened frequently— if anything it’s made clear by Art that it was a one time thing). These characters KNOW each other and know exactly how to hurt each other.

From Patrick’s perspective, I believe he always has been deeply in love with Art. There’s too many scenes of longing and body language that speaks to me how much he loved him for years (“I don’t matter” in the sauna scene seals it), and while he definitely fucked Tashi in Atlanta— he also thinks Art doesn’t know. He’s washed up. He’s a cocky son of a bitch that knows he’s a trash asshole. And yet he’s here, trying— in his perspective— to be genuine and sincere in what he says. I do believe he means it when he says that he came by to tell Art good luck and that he misses playing with him.

What I see missing so much is an interpretation of Art’s perspective that isn’t somehow catered to or rooted around Patrick. Art in that entire scene is ruthless, angry, with so much built up resentment I am BAFFLED no one sees it for what it is. Every part of their dynamic from the beginning— of seeing himself lesser than Patrick in terms of skill, in begging him to “let him win” for his grandma and then asking about what happened with Tashi, being jealous that Patrick got to be with Tashi (and NOT like everyone wants to believe because he’s in love with Patrick! He fucking wanted Tashi!!!!!)— to now be in this space in his career, humiliated because he’s not playing at his current skill level, playing at a Challenger while also being a fucking amazing tennis player. I knew this fandom was fucking stupid when I saw hundreds of people reblogging a post saying Art was a mediocre tennis player with six grand slams like what the fuck are you talking about. Art is a fucking great tennis player, factually better than Patrick is at their current age— and there’s a level of vindictive righteousness oozing out of him when he’s talking to Patrick.

If you think of how Art effectively lived in Patrick’s shadow growing up— something that’s modeled in that first meeting with Tashi both personally and through tennis— Art having the actual skills, talent and WINS to show that he’s better than Patrick is a vindictive win. Patrick tries to argue that they’re in the same place but as Art says it: he’s just passing by. Patrick lives there. And he’s right.

I personally think Art does know something happened in Atlanta between Patrick and Tashi— it was made too much of a scene for him to see them. I think from everything Art says and does in that scene, Art still sees himself as the “winner” of their personal relationships because even if Tashi cheated on him— who did she still marry? Who did she still willingly choose to have a kid with? Not Patrick. Him.

I know I said I wasn’t gonna mention those dumb fucking theories but this is also why I think they’re fucking stupid. It completely undermines Tashi’s choices and agency, much less creating a narrative and characterization for Tashi that doesn’t fucking exist. “She really loved Patrick and had an oops baby with him” look me in the fucking eye and tell me Tashi fucking Duncan would do anything she doesn’t want to do. Tell me to my face that Tashi Donaldson did not choose to take Art’s name out of her own volition and have his child because she wanted to. I am so pissed off at the “Tashi had a baby for Art” or “Tashi had Patrick’s baby’s” theories because you’re all so fucking stupid in centering Tashi’s decisions in anyone other than herself— when Tashi’s selfishness is the ONE trait we see over and over again. Why does no one give a fuck about Tashi and what SHE wants from her OWN perspective? But I digress.

Fandom seems damned and determined to see each of these characters through a simplistic, flat lens— taking the words that they say literally and as objective fact or worse imo, imbuing and projecting their own perceptions of what they should mean or say. They all three have compelling characterization and all three have unique POVs that are both interrelated with each other and completely separate as people unto themselves.

I think it does this complex movie with complex characters a disservice to boil down the sauna scene as “two gay boys unable to admit their feelings” — it’s a shorthand. It’s not incorrect. But it’s flat and is more oriented around the (projected or taken as fact) perspective of Patrick, completely eliminating the agency, choices and lens of both Art and Tashi.