#this is what its led up to folks

[farmerimogen]

Harvey with his daughter, Daisy

[allbeendonebefore]

the majority of 19th century western canadian history is “we brits/canadians are going to boldly go where no man has gone before” and then everywhere they go there’s already some guys there (and also they bring their own guys who also already live there to show them the usual trails)

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

~~

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

~~

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

~~

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | three

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset, men vs boys, dubcon [tagging to be safe] [slight alcohol consumption but neither is drunk], verbal consent received, SMUT, fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it before you tap it, folks], praise kink, slow love, aftercare, vasectomy mention, terms of endearment [sweetheart], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 5.5k joel miller masterlist | part two a/n: i hope y’all are liking this :) next part may not be out for awhile. gonna figure out what the heck i’m doing with this. tagging @hausofobsession, cuz luv.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” he mumbled against your skin. So tight that it distorted his words and had you humming for instant clarification. He lifted his head and looked back down at you, as if his eyes alone would be able to figure out the answer. “Drunk?”

You ran your hands up to his chest, “on two and a half beers?”

“That’s not an answer,” he let out a breath and drifted his hand from your neck, down to your chest where he gave one of your breasts a squeeze. You noticed at the same moment, he reached around to your ass but avoided it to simply adjust himself in his jeans.

“I’d have to be drunk to want to sleep with you?”

“I reckon it’d help,” he grinned boyishly and bent in again for another tongue-led kiss as though he couldn’t help himself.

You grabbed either side of his face in your hands and curled your fingers into his beard. “Not drunk, just want you,” there was a lack of movement on his end and you weren’t sure if he was short-circuiting or trying to figure out if someone your size could indeed get drunk on two and a half beers. Either way, you tapped his ribs, “now, if possible.”

Like a spurred horse, he got to it. Scooped you up and held you against him with both arms hooked beneath your thighs. He let out a labored breath when he lifted you up and stood from the couch, as if he wasn’t sure he’d make it fully upright. The noise emitted from him made you doubt that as well.

“Heavy?” You asked, burying your own lips to his neck, this time to avoid his answer. There was a delay in his response, which you only noted because when he spoke again, he’d managed to rise completely.

“No, sweetheart, it’s not you. I got a fucked up back,”

You pulled back and looked at him with a smirk as he began to walk, “old man.”

He managed to side step his t-shirt so as to not trip over it, and started down the hallway. “Yeah. But I don’t think you’re gonna be disappointed,”

Your cheeks got hot, partially by his words and partially by his display of strength. You’d never felt more secure being in a man’s hands. That he had you. Steady. Safe. “I need to get you that horn to toot,”

Joel only smiled, adjusting his hold on you to keep you upright with his forearm as his other hand moved to turn the doorknob and give you both access to his bedroom. The silence gave way to more kissing. He cupped his hand around your jaw and kept you at an angle that accommodated his tongue pressing its way back into your mouth. Slowly, you were being lowered and your backside hit the mattress which prompted you to open your eyes. But that did you in and sent a white hot flash between your legs. Joel stood over you, chest rising and falling gently as he became laser-focused. He brushed the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip and suppressed a smile when it made you part them. But instead of lingering there, he moved his hand to the back of your head and gently took a handful of your hair, close to the scalp, and eased your head back as far as it would go. You whimpered and pressed your thighs together to try and stave off the arousal you knew was pooling in your panties.

“Y’wanna get naked for me?” He asked, his voice low and gravelly.

That also didn’t help the situation between your legs. You nodded, but then remembered he preferred to hear it, “yeah.”

His eyes drifted to your lips quickly and then shot back up to yours. With a quick peck, “go on, then.”

He took a step back and dropped a hand back down to the front of his jeans, palming himself. With the hesitation on your end, he clicked his tongue against his teeth to get your attention again. Your eyes focused on him, then started the plight of removing your clothes from yourself while trying not to get too far in your head about it while he just stared – ogled – at you. Your shirt was the easiest hurdle to get over so you pulled it over your head and set it beside you on the bed. Joel’s eyes seemed to light up at your now exposed chest. The bra was nothing special, and upon realizing that, a new spark of embarrassment ignited in you. Not having planned this, the bra was less than “sexy” and you knew your underwear was even less so. And they didn’t match. Not nearly. That was the reason you rid yourself of your bra so quickly. Maybe he’d forget what it looked like by the time you were down to your underwear.

Joel groaned once your chest was completely free from its constraints. His shoulders seemed to hunch forward and his hand pressed harder against his crotch. Even as your fingers went to your pants to nimbly undo the button and zipper, he closed the gap between you and wrapped one large hand around the front of your neck. Again, he used no pressure to it, more of just an anchor so he could kiss you and nibble on your lip.

You reached down, trying to remain in place to allow his kisses to continue, while also trying to rid yourself of your pants. He caught on to the jerkiness of your actions, and helped you out of your tight jeans until he managed to get them past your feet and completely off. Now as he stood in front of you, your hands went for his belt, shakily undoing the buckle until you could finally yank it out of the loops.

He watched your progress as you went for the button, “don’t have a condom, but I could just go dow–”

“I’m on birth control,” you said off-hand, not even bothering to look up at him. Button undone and making short work of the zipper, you nudged his jeans down past his hips and the curve of his ass.

Joel grabbed your wrist when you reached back to rub the outline of his member in his boxer briefs. “Not for that. I’m snipped,”

Your eyes shot up to him.

He pressed a grin, “only way you’re getting a baby from me is if you’re the virgin Mary. I don’t have anything, but…”

“Me either, let’s get to it.” You scooted further back on to the bed, laying against the pillows. But he didn’t follow you right away and seeing his questioning look, you jumped the gun. “Unless you’re lying and I actually need to get you a full STD panel,”

That seemed to rile him enough to crawl on the bed to you. “I’m not lyin’ to you,” he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. Instead of keeping his gaze on you, he glanced down at his progress and the damp spot on the cotton fabric that sold you out. He smiled up at you, obviously proud of himself.

The urge to smack that smile off his face was strong. You thought about doing it, and like he could read your mind, he rested his weight on top of you, hips and legs spreading you apart, and grabbed hold of your wrists, tugging them up above your head. He gave you a look, and convinced you’d leave your hands where they were, he loosened his grip and began kissing down your body. First your lips, paying them the sort of attention that made you think he wouldn’t get to any other part. Then his tongue trailed down to your neck, and he sucked on your soft skin there, seemingly dissatisfied until he felt he’d done enough to leave a bruise. A mark that when you’d look in the mirror later, would remind you of what was to come. To remember the way his lips migrated further, to your chest, kissing and circling his tongue around your nipple while his fingers toyed with the other. Only to switch and do the same to the other. You moaned and rut your hips up into him, vying for any friction or anything that would spur him into hurrying. But he was slow with his movements. Each one calculated and deliberate. So that by the time you even realized he was kissing your lower stomach and hip bone, your body tensed up and you lowered one hand, curling gentle fingers around his ear.

“Joel,” you hummed, though his ministrations didn’t stop, and you couldn’t help but understand that your utterance of his name did sound eerily similar to a moan to continue. He kissed just a touch lower and dragged his tongue over the skin where the elastic of your panties had left a mark. “Joel, you don’t have to,”

He let your words sink in for just a second before he kissed your hip once more and lifted his head, “I want to…” he glanced down at your legs as you shifted beneath him, trying to close them. Grasping your hesitancy – or discomfort – with that, he relented and looked back up at you, “maybe next time.”

You nodded and silently thanked the heavens above that he let it go at that and made a quick line of kisses back up your stomach, past the center of your chest and then back to your lips. “Fingers?” He whispered into your neck, resting on his side next to you. His hands continued their dance over your skin.

“Just fuck me,” you pleaded and turned your body into him, slinging a leg over his hip to give him access again.

He smiled and leaned up on his forearm, looking down over you, making you feel smaller than you already were compared to him. “This is not me tooting my own horn, but I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Joel,” you whined and rubbed yourself along the outline of his shaft, knowing he’d feel the wetness through his underwear that you’d left behind.

He pouted at you as if jokingly agreeing with your heady whine. “Thing is sweetheart,” he said and kept his gaze on your face even as his fingers drifted lower. He could tell you were hyper-aware of it though you also kept your focus on his eyes. “Two and a half years is a good bit of time,” he ran his middle finger through your slit, biting back a moan of his own, as a silent one seemed to leave your slackened mouth. After circling your entrance but putting no pressure on it, he brought his finger back up to your clit and suppressed another grin when your legs flinched, “and I don’t think the boys you’ve been with ever did a good job.” He kissed you gently and circled his fingers over your bundle of nerves. This time that earned him a new response in the form of your entire body shuddering. Catching your reaction, he lowered his forehead against yours, “your pleasure’s my only priority right now, so we’re gonna make it good.” Joel lifted his head and looked down at his hand and the way your hips lifted to meet it. “Look at you all wet for me. Barely had to do anything and I’ve got you drippin’.”

You rolled forward and buried your face in his chest, sparing yourself from the eye contact he searched for. A laugh rumbled through his chest, and all you could do to keep from falling apart was roll your hips into his hand harder. 

“How about one?” he looked at you despite only being able to see the side of your head, and notched his finger at your entrance. He felt you nod against his chest, but that reaction had him moving his finger away and opting to cup your sex. “Can I see your eyes,”

You turned your head and looked up at him, “you’re killing me.”

“Well, if ya’ listened to me like a good girl, we’d be on our way. But you’re bein’ stubborn, and I’m not out to hurt you,” he made sure you read him loud and clear. “Now can I put my fingers in you or not,”

But this was what you expected from guys. To gear up for a fight. So your body kicked it into overdrive and you pushed on his chest. “If you listened we’d be on our way because I’ve already said yes three–”

In one fell swoop, he took his place back on top of you and slung one of your legs over his forearm as it rested on the bed by your hip. The move kept you open for him, and left you speechless. If you hadn’t been turned on before, that had surely done it.

“We were having such a good time, and now you’re being a brat,” he smirked knowing he had the upper hand, and laid his fingers back at your entrance. “Can I put my fingers inside you or not,”

“Yes!”

This time there was no delay between your answer and the feeling of him sliding his middle finger into you, going relentlessly until he’d gotten it all the way down to the last knuckle. Your jaw fell slack again and your eyebrows furrowed together, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Like that?” He asked when he curled his finger inside you, against your front wall.

“Yes,” you cried out, elongating the end of the word and writhing beneath him. Only a few quick thrusts of that finger alone before he pulled it out and set forth with his ring finger included. Your eyes were locked on to his, though his gaze alternated between your face and your core. 

Fingers hard at work, when he looked back into your eyes, he saw them glazing over. Your mouth was open, letting out silent moans, and from that he realized the steady rise and fall of your chest had paused. He smiled to himself and lowered his head, planting a wet kiss to your sternum. “Breathe, sweetheart,”

You gulped in a breath of air, hearing an animalistic growl come from Joel’s throat when your inhale resulted in your anatomy squeezing around his fingers which had yet to cease their constant thrusts in and out of you. “Please, Joel, I can’t…” your breath caught in your throat when he curled both of his fingers inside you. “I need you,” your claws came toward his chest and scratched down his skin, trying to get him as physically on you as possible. 

His fingers slowed, “you’ll tell me to stop if it hurts?”

In chasing a high, with blurred vision and your pulse pounding in your ears, and brain fog that overwhelmed you, you shook your head no.

Joel laughed softly and slowly eased his fingers out of you, shushing you when you whined. “That wasn’t the right answer,”

“Please, please. You’re killing me,” you repeated.

“You’ll stop me if it’s not good,” he reiterated.

“You’ll be the among the first to know,”

He kissed you once. Twice. And on the third, sat back on his knees just to lower and pull off his underwear. With it also discarded off the side of the bed, he slotted himself back between your spread legs. You only had a moment to catch a glance of his member, and it instantly set in a whole new batch of nerves. He’d be the biggest you’d ever taken, perhaps exceeding in length and girth than any other boy in your repertoire. And the thought of what that would do to your body was equally anxiety-inducing and thrilling. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you noticed him evaluating your expression, but not catching your direct eye contact, he reached between your bodies and lined himself up with you. Notched his head against your entrance, “good?”

“Yeah,” you murmured and immediately took your lower lip between your teeth, bearing down for what was to come. Joel couldn’t help but think that was you preparing for an unpleasant, and perhaps, downright painful experience. He took a beat to steady himself before he slowly pressed forward, urging himself in.

He felt the first hint of resistance at the same moment your mouth twisted into a wince. Joel pulled his hand out from between you and set it at your hip for leverage while the other went to your neck. His fingertips pressed to the back of it and lifted your head just enough for him to kiss your lips with urgency. Hips dipping into you a little more until about half his length was sheathed inside you, he pulled back to look down when your jaw dropped open and out came the squeakiest of whimpers.

“Y’alright?” Joel stilled his hips, waiting for the go-ahead.

You squinted your eyes shut, feeling them burn with tears. “Yeah,” you gasped out, “you’re big,”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he lowered his head and licked at your neck. “You’re so tight,” he pulled his hips back before slowly thrusting back into you, still only getting halfway of his length in. “But you feel so good,”

“More. Deeper,”

Joel studied your face as he obeyed your command, pushing further until he’d sunk all the way into you, bottoming out. And the way your muscles spasmed around him almost ended him. He bowed his head forward against your shoulder and took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Joel, move,” you pleaded, still pulsing around his length.

He nodded, not lifting his forehead off your shoulder, “I will, just give me a second.”

You reached around his torso and dragged your hands down his back to his ass, “something wrong?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna come,” he admitted, sucking in another deep breath. “Don’t even start. Just… say something about football,”

“I don’t know anything about football,”

That got him to lift his head. And suppressed whatever urge was rising in him enough so that he could pull his hips back and snap them into you again. His speed picked up, sending you upward on the bed. You both pressed a hand to the headboard in the effort of keeping you from hitting it, but even with the abundance of caution, his thrusts got more forceful. It felt like he was splitting you in two, swearing you felt him up in your stomach. And with each particularly deep thrust, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix. 

It had you moaning and whimpering in an endless stream, and just when you didn’t think you could take more of it, he lowered his mouth to your ear and started whispering to you. “Takin’ me so well. ‘Atta girl. Wrap your legs around me,” he waited until you did so. Ankles hooked together behind him and you let out a deep, guttural moan. “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you?”

You nodded breathlessly, very quickly losing control of your senses and body. 

You fluttered around him and he growled. “This pussy’s so good,” that earned him another round of clenching from your needy center. “I feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart,” he emphasized that with another hard thrust. “I’m gonna make you come, but I need you to do me a favor,” his kissed just below your ear.

“Anything,” you moaned. “Anything you want,”

Well if that wasn’t just music to his ears. He moved one hand beneath your hips and lifted them just slightly off the bed to enter into you at a different angle, and placed his other at the back of your head, grabbing onto a fistful of your hair. “Touch yourself for me,”

Eyes blinking open while you simultaneously nodded, you thought you’d just come undone then and there. The way Joel was looking at you became even more overwhelming when you lifted your hand to your mouth and licked your fingers, before lowering them to your waist. Joel moaned and for the first time his hips faltered. You knew he was as close as you were. With the first touch of your fingers on your clit, your legs squeezed around his hips tighter and refused to let him go. Why no boy before had enlisted you to help along with your pleasure, you didn’t know. If anything, they had been offended you needed to. But not Joel. Not this man.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered, staring right at you. It gave you nowhere else to look but back into his eyes. “Good girl,” he hummed, both very aware of the way you throbbed around his shaft with the praise. “You wanna come for me?”

You nodded immediately, feeling heat pooling between your legs and in your stomach.

“Want you to soak me,” he bit your jaw softly, “come all over my cock.”

“Joel,” you whimpered. The muscles in your legs and stomach flexed and released in steady procession. You could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. It was also nearly impossible to focus on anything other than the weight of him on you and in you that accentuated the building pressure inside you. “Joel, please,” you managed to choke out.

His hold on the back of your head grew gentler and he lifted your head toward him. “You can let go, I got you,”

“Joel,” you cried out again.

“I promise. I got you. C’mon, come for me,”

His thrust paired with your slick fingers over your clit was your undoing. You buried your face in his neck, entire body stuttering beneath him. His hips slowed but they never stilled completely while you rode out your orgasm; the first given to you by a man, and one that seemed to take blissfully forever to subside. Your body twitched and your breathing hitched for a while longer until it finally went limp beneath him. You sucked wind to get your breath back. 

Joel bit back a moan, “can I keep going? I’m close,”

“Yes, please, don’t stop.” You managed to pull yourself together enough to realize that he’d talked you through your climax, and now it was your turn to do the same for him. “You feel so fucking good inside me. So big, stuffing me full,”

His gaze caught yours as if he hadn't expected you to pick up like this. But you just smiled, leaned in, and licked a broad stripe up his neck. With your orgasm behind you, you unhooked your ankles behind him and let your legs fall wide down to the bed. His thrusts got less rhythmic as he chased his own high.

“Give it to me,” you whispered again, “gimme everything you got.”

“Where?” He groaned when his abs flexed involuntarily.

“Anywhere you want,”

He groaned and sat back on his knees, pumping into you in earnest. You reached for your breasts and squeezed them, your body bouncing and writhing beneath Joel; which he had a full, unobstructed view of now. It didn’t take long, just a few extra sloppy thrusts from him until he unsheathed himself from you and stroked his hand up and down his length in quick procession. Keeping your eyes on his, as he held eye contact, you chewed into your bottom lip when he let out a deep, hearty groan and moments later felt his spend decorating your stomach and waist. His gaze had left your face and shifted down to your body. A few ragged breaths filled his lungs before he leaned back over you with hands planted on the bed on either side of you.

His kisses were slow now. A stark contrast to how frantic they’d been at the start. And with far less tongue. Though it did still search for entrance back into your mouth. 

You smiled against his lips and scritched your fingers through his hair, “good?”

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” his eyes opened when you giggled. He kissed you once more, then rolled over onto his back beside you and turned his head, “good for you?”

With an enthusiastic nod, “definitely.”

He smiled breathlessly and looked back up at the ceiling inhaling a couple deep breaths to steady himself. But just as you opened your mouth to say something, to congratulate him on being the first man to get you to finish, he groaned and pushed himself out of bed. After pulling a new t-shirt from his dresser and a quick search for his underwear, which he pulled back up his legs and settled around his waist, he wordlessly went for the bedroom door and left you in the room alone. He was out before you had gathered your senses enough to question him.

Even the worst of your lovers had stuck around for more than a couple minutes afterward. Certainly didn’t remove themselves from the room. Sure they hadn’t gotten you off, but the one that had, just left you with a feeling of being used and a growing soreness between your legs. You took and held a deep breath, blinking rapidly to keep any frustrated tears from falling. Great. The guy you decided to let in is a runner. 

After a minute and feeling that your legs wouldn’t completely give out from under you, you carefully pushed yourself out of bed as to keep the aftermath of his orgasm off the furniture. Though you weren’t sure why you cared so much. He clearly didn’t. The search for your bra and underwear turned out to be harder than expected, until you’d found them tossed to his side of the bed. The only focus was to get out of there as quickly and quietly as possible. Pretend it’s nothing and get out of there.

“You’re leaving?”

Your head snapped up upon hearing Joel’s voice, and you found him in the doorway with a glass of water in his hands. 

You snatched up your pants, “yeah, I’m gonna go home.”

“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“You left and I feel a little in the way so…”

You picked up your shirt, the last item you needed. Joel looked dumbfounded, and it wasn’t until you neared him to exit, that he pressed his free hand against your stomach gently. “I went to get you some water. And pull some things out for you in the bathroom,”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to make sense of his words, then noting that the glass of water he had was meant for you. “You left so I though you wanted–”

“I thought you might feel more comfortable getting cleaned up and going to the bathroom first.” He removed his hand from your stomach and reached to take the pile of clothes out of your arms. “Come back to me, okay? I don’t want you to go,”

“You sure?”

He nodded, “I know you’re probably good, but I need to cuddle after sex or I start to feel like a piece of meat.” He caught your hands as you tried to swat at him, and he stepped aside, patting your ass, “I’ll be waitin’ for you.”

Nodding and carrying on into the bathroom down the hall, you nearly burst into tears when you saw just what he’d been up to. You’d taken his leaving as a sign that he was no better than any other guy you’d slept with, but was once again shown that he wasn’t like the others. The shirt he’d taken from his dresser was there, waiting for you to claim. A warm, wet washcloth had been placed beside the sink for you, along with a pack of unscented wipes. Your cheeks got hot at the thought – Joel Miller cared about your delicate pH balance.

You went about your business, wiping his spend away with the washcloth, cleaning yourself up, and each moment growing more restless to be back in bed with him. The more you thought about it, the more dangerous you felt it’d become. What if you couldn’t keep your hands off him?

Coming back down the hall and re-entering his bedroom in nothing but his t-shirt, you were blessed with the image of Joel laid back in bed in his boxer briefs. He was staring absently at his hands in his lap, but when he noticed you’d returned, a wide grin crossed his face. He held his arm out to the side as if creating the spot you’d so nicely fit into. And you did. Crawled up the length of the bed and tucked yourself into his side, head resting on his chest. You wrapped an arm around his torso, giving it a squeeze for good measure to keep him close. Once you were situated, he lowered his arm around you, settling it over your ass. There was comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Nothing but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the softness of his breath. He punctuated the end of the silence with a kiss to the top of your head.

“I really enjoyed that,” he mentioned.

“Me too,”

“Is that going to be the only time I get to enjoy it or do you think it’s something we might get to do again?”

But this time, all you did was shrug and it didn’t necessarily put his heart at ease. And despite knowing that wasn’t the answer he hoped he was going to get off the bat, he didn’t press for a definitive answer.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Not getting the sense it had anything to do with pressing his previous case, you tilted your head back and looked up at him.

He smiled softly and dragged his fingertip down the bridge of your nose, “is there a reason you didn’t want me to go down on you?”

“Yes,”

“Okay,” he nodded and squeezed your ass softly; a sign that that was all he wanted to know. The reason didn’t necessarily matter.

But he was being gentle and soft, and in the afterglow of sex, you didn’t quite care if he knew the reason. “It requires more intimacy,”

He smiled, “more than me being inside you?”

You nodded and Joel gathered you were entirely serious. “It’s easy for me to disconnect myself from my body when it’s just… penetration,” you mumbled, thinking he’d laugh at the term like a teenager. But instead, his expression remained even. “It’s harder for me to do that with oral so it feels more vulnerable,”

Joel shook his head. Silent reassurance that you didn’t need to convince him of anything. “I understand,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “And I know faking orgasms is in the women’s handbook of physical intimacy, and I’m not disillusioned enough to believe a woman’s never faked it with me, but… I hope you didn’t,”

Your heart beat heavy in your chest, threatening to break out of your ribcage. You stretched upward until he was close enough to kiss, and then you did so, curling your fingers in his beard. Only when you pulled away, “I didn’t.”

He grinned and pulled your leg over his waist. “You wanna stay tonight?”

And you knew it was going to be another answer he didn’t want to hear. You knew you were going to break his heart. And yet you said it anyway, “no I should go home in a little bit,”

He did his best to hide his disappointment, and you hardly saw any of it before he nodded in acceptance.

Fifteen minutes later after thinking maybe you’d change your mind, you and Joel were dressed again – you still in his t-shirt – as he walked you back to your house. Though he had reached for your hand, you dodged it in fear that nosy neighbors would see you. It was bad enough they could see him walk you back to your place at this hour.

At your door, Joel silently watched you unlock it and nudge it open. He pressed a smile in your direction once you turned back to him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “for tonight. And for fixing my fridge,”

“‘S’nothing,” he insisted and leaned into you. His hand found a spot behind your head as he backed you up against the door jamb, being saved by the back of his hand rather than knocking into the wood. 

The kiss he gave you felt different than all the other ones had felt tonight. Yes, it was slow. But previously, the slow ones had felt like the unhurried motions of a doting lover. This one felt like he was making it last for as long as he could for he might never get another. You placed a hand on his stomach, feeling your legs turn wobbly. By the end of the kiss, you swore you would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for his steadying hands.

Once parted, you backed into your house and gave him one last smile before you shut and locked the door. But hidden inside, you ran to the living room to spy on him and found that he had remained in place by your door; one hand propped up against the jamb. He breathed a couple quiet breaths before turning and descending your porch steps and slowly returning to his home.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 3)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 2, Part 4

summary: A bad day turns even worse. Miguel surprises you.

warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of grief, very vague mention of domestic violence and abuse.

recommended reading: the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais, and the song Ophelia by the lumineers.

a/n: i lowkey suck at communicating my "big" ideas so i really really hope this makes sense!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

they were here, she says,

You’ve had your share of bad days.

Oh God , enough to fill an A4 binder with. For example, knocking out that tooth when you were twelve. A butterfly effect of fuck ups that led to a scuffle at school: blood in your mouth, a tooth on the ground, and a looong suspension. You received quite the earful at home, that day. 

And then there was telling your parents you had dropped out of college. Telling them you were moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend. Breaking up with said boyfriend in your favourite diner; thus sullying Pam’s waffles and pancakes with the bitter taste of… oh-fuck-I-don’t-know-how-I’ll-afford-an-apartment-now. Oh, and heartbreak – although that wasn’t as immediate. 

Scratch that, the day of the breakup had been fairly mundane. Pleasant, even. Jamie had an off day, and you only had a few lectures. He didn’t tell you, of course, so meeting him in the apartment was a surprise. You’re home earlier than usual, and you can’t quite bear to wake him up; slumped on the sofa like an old cat. He’s tired, lectures and clerkships running him ragged for the past few years. Only a year out until residency, with bags under his eyes as proof, and you see him less and less.  All things considered, you’re glad to spend the rest of the day with him. 

You’d spent too long after the break up analysing the days leading up to it: for a sign, something in his behaviour that would’ve warned you. And so, you remember it quite vividly: kicking your shoes off, putting your bag down, and sinking into the sofa next to him. You curl into him, looking up at his face: steady, tempered breathing. Something at your chest, solid and heavy. He looks peaceful, happy; and you haven't seen that side of him in quite a while. 

When you shift against him, you knock against his shoulder. Jamie stirs, groggy, and eyes adjusting to the light. The first thing he sees as he wakes is you; romantic, in theory. His expression is etched into your subconscious; stark and stiff like a marble statue, or a tombstone. A flash of disappointment, lip drawn in what seemed like disgust – but only for a moment.  

" Morning , baby." You squeeze his side, and take his hand into yours. That look ; it's gone almost as quickly as it came. 

"Thought…" He frowns, fighting dregs of sleep. "I thought you would be back later."

"Nope." You give him a smile and he returns with one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He puts a hand on your cheek. 

"Morning," Probably tired, he sighs deeply. You move on with the day. And he breaks up with you, not even 6 hours later.

You had had 4 years of that: good days, bad days, but most of them had been… mundane. Boring. Not quite the heat and intensity of true love, as the movies had gaslighted you into believing in. 

You like the old black and white ones the best. Old fashioned, old-timey folk; declarations of love in tinny transatlantic accents. Suddenly, you’re on the floor of your childhood bedroom; eyes wide at the Sound of Music. Maria and Von Trapp hand in hand: her dress billowing, the flash of white glove on the small of her back. Love, love, love; and your lack of it.

You feel its loss all the same. 

Despite all your efforts – including a dash to the station that could rival an Olympic sprinter – you were late to your first lecture. Sweaty, out of breath, and ambushed with a pen and paper; thrust into your hands on arrival. You look around to see dozens of heads down, scribbling furiously. A surprise test – and you’re late.

Hand aching, you barely finish within the two hours, after bullshitting your way through at least half of the questions. By the looks of the people streaming out of the hall; faces rumpled and grimacing; you’re not the only one. However, it does little to comfort you. You’re sure you're the only one failing so spectacularly, with the semester already half over. 

You'd smacked your leg on the coffee table on the way out and a book had slammed to the floor. An art book, the kind in a model home - and you know damn well Miguel's not an enthusiast. The image sticks for some reason, leg aching as you trudge to your next class. When he gives you that blank look; the memory of men gone past is haunting – dead-eyed, and blank, like eyes cut out of a painting. You wonder if a Van Gogh would feel the same with the brilliant blue of eyes slashed out. 

Nevertheless, you feel like lead. Off

to your next class, and it's going over material passed out the day before; which you didn’t have the time to look over. The professor drones on; voice monotonous and gravelly. Struggling to keep up, you sink into your seat – tapping away at your laptop, whatever you can get down. You pick at your lip, unravelling; unfurling like the tip of a slashed rope.

That's what you’re waiting for, you think: sandbags clattering down from stage left, to bring the rest of this whole farce down.

A sinking feeling, that starts at your chest and makes its way to the tops of your fingers and toes, leaves you numb for the rest of the day. Dread, like a shadow, at your heels in the corridors, across the courtyard, all around campus. Another lecture, and you make it in time for labs, barely, but there’s no time to go over notes; what you managed to scrape together in preparation. And of course , your lab partner’s sick, because that’s just the kind of day you’re having. It’s hectic, doing the work of two people with only the scraps you’ve cobbled together. 

The pressure mounts. Like liquid in that flask you weren’t meant to stopper; and you just might end up like its remnants on the counter. Glass everywhere but where it should be. For a good grade, it helps to be organised: everything in its place, always. Except it isn’t, and you’ve fucked it up, again . It means the results don’t match up in your lab book, and another hour staring at liquid decanting, monitoring temperatures. Staring at stark white walls, with achy legs. 

You step out whilst machines run in your stead, and shed your lab coat. It’s hot and stuffy in there but out in the corridor, you can finally breathe. Forehead on the cool wall, it all stops for a moment. The persistent buzz of your phone, sat in the pocket of your trousers, creeps into the quiet. 

Absent-mindedly, you turn it on with a click. The buzzing stops. You’ve just missed a call from Miguel. It’s odd, he doesn’t usually call, but it’s the little box underneath the notification that makes you pause. A message, from a number you thought you’d blocked – that you should’ve blocked. 

From:Jamie <3

Hey

From:Jamie <3

We should meet. I’ve still got some of your things in the apartment.

Your blood runs cold. Dread, like a shadow; its hand wrapped your neck. You can’t breathe, stuck under the weight of something at your chest. You can’t breathe, the walls close in. We should meet , he says. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world; just friends catching up over a coffee. Like you didn’t watch him carve out a chunk of your heart with a rusty spoon. 

A panic attack, and you’re awkwardly hunched over by the wall, phone in hand. Someone will find you here, lying on the vinyl floor in Block B, spread eagle between lab 6 and 7. Dramatic timing, but if it kills you; you’ll find a way to haunt your ex's ass for the foreseeable future. And Miguel’s too, because if you’re having a bad day; then somewhere out there, he’s having a good one. 

~~~

The apartment is still when Miguel gets back – unusually so. You’re not on the sofa, watching a mindless soap opera, or howling some song in the shower. And he’s had to deal with that most days for the past few weeks, a break in the peace and quiet he’s so carefully cultivated. Rigorous routine, they keep him together. He needed it; the way myth needs a martyr, the way flowers on a small grave needs a body. A tick-tick-tick in his head, that drives him a little less crazy after a morning run, or a good meal when he comes home. A countdown, he thinks, a mechanical clock whirring and puttering with a shake of its gears. He feels them stutter and start, slowing down, but not quite stopping. An ache so deep, he feels its creak with every step. 

Absent-mindedly, he looks around the empty apartment, pulling at his ears.

When he was younger, Gabi would pull at his ears, to get him out of a book. Reading, always reading, whenever he could. At the dinner table, when his mamá would rap his knuckles with a wooden spoon and chuckle lightly at his little grimace. No en la mesa, Miguelito. Not at the table, Miggy. Léeme más tarde – read it to me later.

It was when he got his braces, and picked up a slight lisp. He stopped talking for a while, not completely; but a lot less, not as interactive in lessons. And it was always little Miguel, at the front of the class with his hand up to answer. It didn’t help that Gabi poked fun at him, often sneaking up to him to hiss in his ear: palms pressed together with a slithering motion, and then a strike to his ribs like una víbora - a viper , struggling to say his S’s. They’d fight because of it after, tousling on the floor of their bedroom in a mass of limbs, like pythons squeezing prey. Or at least, until their mamá rushed to separate them. 

She didn’t like it when her boys fought; so they’d been forced to make up every time. He still has the scars to prove it.

Car magazines at first, and then the newspaper, whatever book he had picked up at the library that week. Even with his lisp, his mother made sure he read to her, and sometimes to Gabi as well, at least once a week. Looking back, she was never perfect; the things he knows now about his dear mamá, and her visage tumbles like Ozymandias in the sand. Her mother, married to a piece-of-shit mechanic; and his mother, elbow deep in the oil spill. That’s the funny thing about love, he thinks. Love, and the lack of it; dripping through the cracks, passed on through generations. Maybe mamá felt the gears shuddering in her chest. He hopes Gabi was saved from that burden. 

A small voice at the back of his mind tells him: it’s not enough. Doesn’t explain the little boy pulling at his ears, in Miguel’s jacket and dress shoes.

A glimpse in the reflection of a shiny pan on the side table, and he looks like shit. Eyebags, a permanent scowl, shadowy lines that prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s ironic, crows feet without the penchant for laughing. He thinks you’d find it funny. The pink and purple of a setting sun spills in through windows and makes him sigh. It’s late, and you’re still not home. 

God, you're strange; sticking your nose where you shouldn't. Disrupting the calm of his apartment. A sanctuary, and you've got your grubby paws all over it. Your shit is all over the place; pun-based mugs in the cabinet, chewed pen lids with no pens in sight, a blanket on the couch. The same blanket, a ratty old thing, that he usually meets you wrapped in when he gets back. A creature of habit, he folds it up; trying to ignore the whispers of your perfume, sweet and heady on the fabric.

He gets dressed, starting with dinner; knife on a chopping board cutting onions and peppers into cubes. It's therapeutic, the steady thud ringing out into the kitchen. Quiet, for a fleeting moment. But the worry, it sticks ; despite his better judgement. Before he changes his mind, he clicks open his phone to call you. It rings out – you don’t pick up.

The urge to call again is surprisingly troublesome, so he shoves it down with a piece of tortilla. It sits in his chest, regardless.

~~~

You trudge into the apartment. Squelch seems more accurate, sopping wet as you step out of waterlogged trainers. It was an inopportune time to wear jeans and forget a jacket – and you fight the urge to wring out onto the wooden planks. Miguel would kill you; the place was already falling apart, and water-warped floorboards might just be the last straw.

It’s thundering outside; a torrential downpour you’d just been dragged through. Dragged, half-running through streets-turned-streams, with nothing but a tank top and hoodie on your back. And you must look a sight , eyes bleary and slick with rainwater. The bag heavy on your back goes first, slipped off your shoulder and on the floor next to the coffee table with a thunk . You’re unzipping the flimsy canvas, inspecting its contents. A soaked through textbook, clumps of loose paper. You’re ready to cry when you see what's happened to the pages of your lab book; bleeding ink that’s only half-legible. But it’s the state of your laptop that makes your chest really heave and knees weak.

It’s slick with rainwater, and the sandwich you’d forgotten to eat, smeared across its fans. Caked on, more accurately; an odd sludge that you try your best to wipe away. You put it on the coffee table and your hand shakes as you press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. 

You sink onto the floor, head in your hands between the coffee table and the couch. Everything was on there: photos from senior prom, end of semester projects – your whole life. You have to dig your teeth into your bottom lip to bite back a scream.

Miguel peers from the kitchen, watching your silent breakdown. Quiet, and so still, with only the slight shake of shoulders to tell him that something is wrong. He glances at your half-opened laptop. He’d eaten already, clearing up what remains of his dinner and this is the sight he’s greeted with: the lady of the lake, lain between the reeds. 

He shakes the image out of his head, and walks over. You feel a tentative prod, and look up.

“...I called you,” He says lightly, scratching at his neck.

You blink up at him. He thinks you look like a painting, watery and forlorn, framed in the yellow light of the soft bulbs.

“I was busy,” It’s not said with malice, nor as lilting as your usual sarcasm. Plain, simple. Busy. Your head slumps back into the little hollow you’ve made with your arms.

And so he sits, shoulders brushing against yours. He’s frustratingly patient, presence warm and comfortable despite… well, despite everything. 

You can’t help it. Popping back up, you state, “You never call, though.”

“You’re never this late home.” Home. The word is heavy, knocks you onto your heels.

“So?” You shrug. “Could’ve been out with friends, or at a club–”

Laughter slips out like apples loose in a bag, spills onto the floor. Crisp, sweet; but you glare at him all the same. 

“You don’t have friends.” He says it with the remnants of a smile, teasing. A challenge, and you’re more than happy to accept. 

“ Not true , fuckface.” It is. You'd lost track of most of your friends after moving – and all the ones you made here? Your friends were Jamie's friends, and they chose him  in the divorce. " You don't have any friends."

"I do ."

"You don't." It's your turn to scoff. "It's a Friday night and you're in here, washing up and planning to go to bed at a reasonable time."

"I'm an adult, doesn't mean I don't have–" 

"The ones you fuck don't count." And then you pinch the bridge of your nose. "God forbid, if that's how you treat your friends…" 

He laughs, properly, and you feel it in your chest too: the kind of laughter that bubbles like little breaths rising to the top of a lake. 

“M’serious.” He says it in between gasping breaths and you try to steady your own giggles. "And, I have a friend who could take a look at your laptop, if you wanted."

His eyes flick over to the crime scene besides you. It's sweet, but.. "It's gone, Miguel, I know. You don't need to… try and make me feel better."

" Chula ," He flicks the deep lines forming at your brow. You look up and he says, softly, "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to get you off of the floor so I can mop up that puddle."

With the way he says it, with that little smile, you don't believe him. 

Now he's got your attention, he says, "You could've skipped that 9:00am. Or just been late. Don't think it would've mattered."

"Maybe." You shake your head. "M'not the best student. I'm blindingly… average. Just wanted it to be different, this year." 

Your voice crackles, leaves something in the air he can't quite name. Quiet, again, except this time it's thicker. Smoke, ash, rolling clouds of melancholy in the little front room. For once, he doesn't know what to say. 

You've got your head back on the sofa now, with a deep sigh. You look at the ceiling, and he's looking at you. It's the first time he's able to really study your features, trace the outline of your lips and sloping cheekbone. Your lashes, damp with little droplets of water, look crystalline in the light. Sparkling. Like the paintings depicted in the hefty book sat on his coffee table. He's read that one, twice , cover-to-cover in a fit of… insanity, maybe. He's not a man of frills and fancy, didn't really get it; nor why Gabi had given him the book in the first place. It felt like a filler piece, something to put on the little table and forget about, or to prop up a wooden leg. But that's not how his brother works, frustratingly convoluted. It's stupid, Miguel thought. Everything had to mean something , or what was it good for? 

But looking at you, here, like this ; it clicks. Reaching over for the book, he leans it against the flat of his thigh. And you see it in the corner of your eye, watching as he flicks through the pages. Filled with art, it's the kind of thing on a table in a model apartment: a space-filler in a false home. When you first came here, the starkness and severity of the space had stuck. To you, the book had only reinforced it. Who was Miguel? A serial killer for all you know, stocking fluff pieces and coffee table books; only pretending to be human.

Finally, he stops, finger over a specific place. A double page spread, of surprisingly good quality. 

He clicks his tongue. " This one. "

You follow his finger. A woman in a lake doesn't do it justice. It's beautiful, but it doesn't mean anything to you.

" Ophelia, John Everett Mills, 1852 ." He reads out the little label at the bottom of the image. "Like from Hamlet."

You shrug. "I don't…?"

"Well, she's in love with Hamlet, and then her father's murdered, Hamlet fucks off; and she's left heartbroken, goes mad because of it , arguably–" 

"I've taken tenth grade English, Miguel. I don't get what that has to do with anything."

"She drowns herself. Also arguably, to be fair," He chews his lip, thinking. "Slipped off the bark of a willow tree, into a brook. Incapable of her own distress, or something. Drowns. Do you know how horrible drowning feels? How violent? And yet–" 

He taps the page, and you come a little closer. Beautiful. She's beautiful. 

"I'll admit it, I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare. Gabi – my brother – is way better at this stuff than me. Drama and intrigue and–" He gestures vaguely. "– love . That's why he likes it, apparently. And I… I know someone who really liked this page; I think it was the colours, or the flowers…? She said it looked like a photo, and that the woman looked so pretty in the water."

He pauses, dead-eyed. He's rambling, only taking a breath to compose himself." I… didn't have the heart to tell her that Ophelia, in this painting, is dead. Dead as a fucking doornail. Dragged through still water, sentenced to death by her passivity and grief – but you wouldn't know it."

Unconsciously, you trace the outline of her hair with your finger; swirling locs that blend into muddy reflections. She's on her back and fully dressed; a beaded skirt billowing out into the water. On her back and looking up, like you were on the sofa just a moment ago. Oh. Oh . You blink at the image. Flowers, peppered around to frame Ophelia in her watery grave. It doesn't look like a grave from where you're sitting, but there's a body in the water all the same. 

There's a lump in your throat. Grief; the loss of 4 years of your life in a middling relationship, the aftermath of dead eyes and brilliant blue slashed from a canvas frame. Grief, rising to the surface like a bloated carcass. You thought you'd bound its ankles to cinder blocks and tossed it in a river long ago. 

"I'm probably overstepping. For that, I'm sorry, and I mean it. But I think there's something else. I..I hear you rattling around at night; and sometimes, when I look at you..." 

Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill over. You’re hearing him but you don’t quite understand. Does he know? God, does he know?

"...it reminds me of this painting. You remind me of Ophelia .”

He sighs, turning to you.

“I know how it feels. And I think this shit is going to kill you, if you're not careful."

~~~

He doesn't talk about it. He runs off to start the shower, bundles you into towels and leaves you reeling. God, it's like you've been shot – barely a 10 minute conversation and he's cracked open your ribs to root around in what's left of you. He sees you; wades through the undergrowth and cuts through the bulllshit - he sees you. 

You couldn't even answer. That's what stings the most. 

You’ve settled on the sofa, cross-legged and still fresh from the shower. There’s a documentary on the TV; mindless background to Miguel clattering in the kitchen. He’s putting together some leftovers, even though you insisted that you weren’t hungry, that you’ve already eaten. Well , he had pointed to the gunk caked onto your laptop, wasn’t that the problem in the first place?

He’s good at it; wraps you up in the blanket you always keep draped on the cushions, and hands you a full plate. Wordlessly, because you suppose he’s said everything he needed to. Dutifully, he takes care of you, without a word; the strain of cutting you open on the coffee table clearly too much to bear.

You thank him, and he settles on the armchair opposite, mug of coffee in hand. The gloom of the TV bathes him in light, cuts his cheekbones and jaw just so. One of your mugs in his lap, and he's in a thick knitted sweater. His hair kisses the tops of his lashes, but he brushes it away. You swallow thickly, and when he turns, you look away.

“...You okay?” He asks, confused.

You nod, unable to speak. He gives you a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled up like crepe paper. You return it with one of your own. 

He sees you. Finally, you see him too.

_

_

_

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[doberbutts]

I remember reading a post that men are the oppressor class so why would they bother to dismantle systemic patriarchy when they actively benefit from its existence? And as I read it, I thought, Damn, so an entire half of the population can never conceivably help us, and the people who love men in their lives are doomed. It wasn't a helpful post. It basically felt, here's some actual material analysis on feminism and said, That trying to educate and make men be part of feminism is fundamentally a flawed effort, because again, they are the oppressor class, why should they care about uplifting the oppressed?

And it made me think about this very good pamphlet I read, explaining how the white worker remained complacent for so long because at least they weren't a Black slave. And that the author theorized the reason labor movements never truly created exceptional, radical change is because of internal racism (which I find true) and failure to uplift black people. And the author listed common outlooks/approaches to this problem, and one of them was: "We should ignore the white folks entirely and hold solidarity with only other POC, and the countries in the Global South. Who needs those wishy-washy white fragile leftists who don't care about what we think or want?" (roughly paraphrased.)

And the author said, This sounds like the most leftist and radical position, but it's totally flawed because it absolves us of our responsibility to dismantle white supremacy for the sake of our fellow marginalized people, and we are basically ignoring the problem. And that blew me away because this is a position so many activists have, to just ignore the white folks and focus entirely on our own movements. I wish I knew the name of the actual pamphlet, so I could quote entire passages at you.

But I feel this is the same for men. Obviously, we should prioritize and have women-led and women-focused feminism. But saying that men are an oppressor class so they can't reliably be counted upon in feminist activism--it's such a huge oversimplification. And mainly, I'm a Muslim, and I've been treated with plenty of misogyny from Muslim men. And also plenty of misogyny from Muslim women. And I love my male friends, I want men to be part of the movement, and I dunno. Thinking about communities, movements, and the various ways we fail each other and what it means to be truly intersectional keeps me up at night.

I don't know the pamphlet you're talking about but I've read and been taught similar. There's a reason much of my anti-racism is so feminist and most of my feminism is anti-racist. Many people coming at this problem from a truly intersectional angle have seen that there is no freedom to be had without joining hands across the community. Not picking and choosing our allies based off of identity but off of behavior.

As used in a previous example, a white abled moderately wealthy man saying "wow Healthcare sucks in this country, why does this system suck so bad" should be told "hey, this system sucks so bad because it's built off of sexism, racism, classism, and ableism. You want to improve the system? Fix those things and it will be much better in the long run" and not "shut up you're a man. Healthcare is always going to be better for you". The second response doesn't fix that Healthcare is still a problem even if you are at the "top" of the privilege ladder. If we want true change, we have to dismantle the entire system at it's core and build it up without the yuck, otherwise you're gunna get to the top and realize this place sucks too.

Something something if the crabs worked together to hold each other up, they could all get out of the bucket and be free.

[serpentarius]

been trying to wrap my head around the cancellation of "Our Flag Means Death" and why it hurts so fucking much. lots of folks who are much more eloquent than I have summed it up perfectly, but I still think it’s important I add my voice to the matter. 

It really, really sucks that the hurt is being compounded on us every time another queer/minority-led show gets prematurely cancelled. and for a long while, we also had to deal with the many shows that deliberately queerbaited us, which was a shitty and traumatic experience unto its own. And even though we’ve largely surpassed that early-‘00s-flavoured brand of queerbait now, mainstream queer media is still predominantly white-led. With the cancellation of OFMD, we've lost one of the very few intersectional queer shows in the mainstream. Shouldn’t we be beyond asking for crumbs at this point? Shouldn’t we get unabashedly intersectional shows helmed by and starring queer, BIPOC, and trans folks without them being axed for no rhyme or reason?

It’s exhausting at this point, honestly. OFMD has done so well in terms of viewership and engagement and fan response—almost entirely due to word of mouth and little thanks to the Max marketing team, mind you—and even still the show got cancelled? Can they make it make sense????

For me, the thing most akin to this OFMD situation was when Sense8 got cancelled. And yes, the fandom fought, and we eventually DID get a movie that wrapped things up years later! That gives me hope for OFMD, that maybe another network will pick it up, or maybe they’ll be able to make a movie someday. But what makes me sad about cases like Sense8 is knowing that the creators still had to force the narrative around the amount of time they were given. That the corporate overlords who only care about numbers and profit dictated how much time they had to wrap up their story.

And it fucking kills me that DJ only wanted one more season. One more season to complete the vision.

I'm just so mad that queer people are constantly being jerked around and used for profit and then left high and dry. And then we're given excuses like "oh there's no budget" or "oh there's not enough viewership, that's all it is". like, sure, maybe those are contributing factors, but then I look at all the useless garbage shows that have little viewership and high budgets that keep going forever and then I think "hmmmm, the math ain't mathing." It's fucking transparent; the corporations can spew all they want with their rainbow capitalism and talks about diversity, but the evidence is clear, and they can't convince me homophobia/racism/transphobia/etc. is not a factor in these decisions.

Anyways, back to OFMD. OFMD made me fall in love with fandom again. I drifted away from fandom for a while in my 20s, and while OFMD wasn't the first fandom that drew me back into the madness, it's certainly the largest. The sheer amount of creativity both within the show and outside of it has blown me away; I've read some of the best fics, seen some of the best art, and witnessed some of the most incredible creativity from people in this fandom.

And let's not forget the role of the show's creators and how they've interacted with us fans. They made us feel seen. And made us feel loved and valid, even when we were being weird and loud and horny. It's so fucking rare to see that. But they understood; understood that the show they made was for us, for any of us who've been marginalized or made to feel Othered or different or stuck in life or unsure of our identities. And they gave us so much love for it.

The story... man. The unique combination of quirky humour and bright visuals and dark, introspective moments, the gorgeous costumes and soft, lovely, unabashed queerness, and veteran actors and new actors all getting to shine, brilliant comedic actors getting to show off their dramatic chops and vice versa. For me, seeing Rhys Darby - an actor I've loved for a long time, but who I never thought I'd see in a leading role - getting to be the romantic lead in a queer role? And seeing acclaimed director/producer/screenwriter/actor Taika Waititi play opposite Rhys, as an indigenous Blackbeard? Fucking incredible. OFMD Edward Teach you will always be famous to me.

Anyways... despite my long ramblings here, I still don’t think I've been able to get to the root of WHY exactly this show has inched its way under my skin and stayed with me in the way it has. Maybe I'll spend years trying to understand it. But I DO know that it's in part to do with seeing both older queers AND a diverse range of queerness onscreen, in a way that I've never seen in media before. I DO know that OFMD has forced me to look inwardly, and allowed me to realize some important things about myself. About my own queerness, my own identity, things I'm still figuring out. I've cherished being able to see myself in Stede, in Ed, and each of the crew members. In Roach’s love for cooking, in Oluwande’s ability to mediate; in Jim’s quick temper, in the way Izzy builds walls to guard his heart. In Buttons’ quirkiness, in Wee John’s sass, in Frenchie’s ability to turn pain into humour; in The Swede’s silliness, in Lucius’ bluntness, in Pete’s soft heart beneath the skepticism. Lastly, OFMD has inspired me. To create, to write, to draw, to devour other peoples' works and worlds while I sit in sheer, overflowing joyousness at their talent.

so yeah. the news of this cancellation is upsetting and hurtful and disappointing. And it's making us cry, and it's making us grieve, and may make us hollow and numb at times because we've lost yet another thing we love so deeply before it was meant to go. It's so much more than "just a TV show". It means more to us than any passive mindless idiotic mind-numbing bullshit - because even though there's a time and a place and a purpose for that type of media, it's the thought-provoking work, the work that creators pour their entire hearts and souls into, that hit us deep in our own souls. The work that changes our lives. The work that has the ability to save lives, as I know OFMD has done for so many. 

please know I'm sending immense amounts of love and strength to those of you who are also hurting. we'll get through this, one way or another, and I'll keep up with the hope that we'll get more someday; but in the meantime, I'm holding you tight. ❤️️🫂

[sinkdestroyer3000]

Your car broke down in a long stretch of woods while you and your friends, were on a road trip. As everyone was busy freaking out not knowing what to do. You saw a dirt trail. You pointed it out, everyone in the end decided it would be the safest bet. Since you could find a ranger station or maybe a camp site that would be near civilization.

A not so long trek later, and you all find a cabin in the woods you taking the lead, you knock and someone opens the door. They looked as if they had lived in the woods for some time. not bad, just scruffier than normal city folk.

They invite you all in for dinner with a promise of food and directions to a ranger station

Thanking the kind stranger, you all come in being led to the dinner table and being served meat and an assortment of vegetables that looked home-grown the

stranger only put meat on their plate, which was odd but nothing to think too hard about

As you all talked to the stranger, you realized there were many things off about them. their eyes being slightly too big, their teeth more pointy than normal teeth and the oddest thing being how they spoke not the mannerisms though odd could be brushed off as not speaking to many people being in the middle of the woods and all but their voice had an almost painful tone almost like it was unnatural for them to speak that way

As you glance around the house, you to fail to realize how the stranger has been staring at specifically you

You realize how shady this person is the photos on the walls have no photos of them and the photos there are look like driver's licenses and IDs

And the shoe rack near the door is filled with many shoes sizes and styles non seem to match to the person in front of you feeling a bubbling anxiety that felt like it would spill out if you ignored it, you ask you use the restroom

They happily lead you there, pausing you before you go in to ask if you feel alright. You nod, saying you're just anxious from the car braking down. They nod and tell you that they'll see what they could do before you head in

You put your headphones on and put a five-minute timer on so you can calm down, trying to shake the anxious feelings. As the five minutes come to an end, you walk out

You're friends greet you before thanking the stranger again for how kind they were for giving them a hot meal and directions even you already at the front door don't fail to notice how silent the stranger has been until they lash out ripping one of you're friends to shreds as the rest of you scramble out terrified screams coming from different directions you hear it chasing another friend who was close by on all four sounding unnatural when you get a glance its limbs are twisted in ways you've never seen before as you climb a tree to avoid being spotted you notice as you see the last slivers of light dip into the mountains away you see a watch tower in the exact direction the thing said a ranger station would be dread fills you realizing it knew you'd all run. It sent you in the wrong direction for that exact reason

The night was cold. You could hear the thing crunch on your friends and cry out in their voices, but you knew it wasn't them and by some miracle you survived. While in the tree you could vaguely see a trail to a camp so that's where you went when the sun was well and up little did you know you had something following close behind

You got to the station and tried to tell the rangers about what happened, but they said there's someone who owns the land, but they were polite. They said they would ask them questions, but that's all they could do without evidence

They help you get your car fixed, and you drive home, a new feeling of paranoia and grief for your friends and a hatred for the thing that made such both a terrible yet amazing trip so terrible.

Little did you know that you had a new admirer

Something about you felt nice the thing they were eager to know more . It was curiosity at first, but as they continued to watch you they became more enamored with you mannerisms that most would find weird the things that made you happy the things that annoyed you

You were perfect, and they wanted to know more. They wanted you to tell them secrets only they would get to know. They would learn to love like a person if it made you love them back

They took the identity of a new neighbor you never met before introducing themselves and finding opportunities to bump into you. After a year and a half, you finally were able to call them a friend. They were content with whatever you wanted them to be as long as you would stay and keep talking to them with that angelic voice of yours.

As long as you stayed.

[mikeywayarchive]

Mikey Way: “I was borderline terrified a lot of the time My Chemical Romance was active. I was learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night!”

By Gregory Adams ( Bass Player ) published June 9th 2023

The reunited emo kings’ low-end ranger reveals why he swapped out his signature Fender Mustang for a sparkling new signature Jazz Bass, learning bass in arenas, and how he overcame insecurity about his chops

Full interview under cut:

My Chemical Romance’s reunion has seen bassist Mikey Way thrumming through the high pomp punk of The Black Parade and Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge favorites with a familiar rhythmic fortitude, but keen-eyed band obsessives have probably noticed the musician is no longer sporting the snazzy, silver-flake Squier Mustang signature model Fender built for him back in 2012. 

The good news is that’s because, as Fender have just formally announced, Way has a brand-new – but just as glammy – Jazz Bass out now. There’s a good reason why Way’s made the switch: the Jazz Bass is his first love.

Though he started out on guitar, Way got the hang of a four-string in the mid ‘90s while playing a loaned-out Jazz Bass in his pre-My Chemical Romance project, Ray Gun Jones. He upgraded to a silver-finish Jazz of his own by the time MCR started touring in the early ‘00s, but a trailer mishap led to that instrument getting smashed to pieces on a highway.

Way tells Guitar World that he eventually became obsessed with the short-scale sturdiness of a Mustang bass guitar as My Chemical Romance were writing their 2010 full-length, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, after fooling around with a model Duff McKagan had left at North Hollywood’s Mates Rehearsal Studio. By 2012, Way had his Squier model in stores.

It was during the downtime after My Chemical Romance went on hiatus in 2013, though, that the stubbiness of his Mustang became a little hard to handle.

“I stayed away from playing bass for a little while, which is natural – I was just decompressing,” Way explains. “Then, sometime in 2014, I picked up the bass again, to get my chops back, [but] I noticed that the Mustang felt strange to me.” 

After reaching out to the folks at Fender, Way got a grip on his playing by stretching out on the longer-necked Jazzes they sent him. Way’s take on the Jazz Bass is outfitted with ’70s-style single-coil pickups, and a thinline “C”-shaped maple neck the bassist says is super-speedy.

The finish is silver, of course, but Way also wanted an aesthetically inkier black pickguard. The headstock, likewise, pops with its matching gloss-black finish.

Speaking with Guitar World, Way gets into the glam and grunge gods who inspired his love of a good sparkle coat, overcoming performance anxiety, and why a steady attack wins the bass race every time.

What were some of the musts when it came to designing this latest signature?

“I’ve been obsessed with the sparkle finish as far back as I can remember. Growing up in the ‘90s, the silver-flake [finish] was big in alternative music. Chris Cornell had the Gretsch Silver Jet, [Daniel Johns] from Silverchair had one – [with] the imagery the Smashing Pumpkins used, they liked sparkles.

“Ace Frehley, of course, was big into flake finishes, and as a kid, you love the larger-than-life, comic book world of Kiss. [And there’s] David Bowie – the glam rock stuff. That flake finish makes me think of so many different things, but that’s why I love it so much.

“I remember being younger and going into stores and seeing a flake finish and being like, 'Oh my god, that’s an expensive [looking guitar] – I can’t afford that, let alone play it.' It was almost intimidating.”

One aesthetic difference between your Mustang model and this Jazz is that you didn’t throw a racing stripe on this one.

“I thought about bringing it back and keeping the continuity. Maybe somewhere down the line we’ll throw a racing stripe on this. The thing with [seeing a] racing stripe was always like, 'This player is a badass!'”

Is there a psychology behind removing the racing stripe, then?

“The psychology behind it is that I forgot about it. When My Chemical Romance was talking about doing reunion shows [in 2019], I’d contacted Michael Schulz from Fender and was like, 'Is it OK if I make a new bass for this [next] era of My Chemical Romance?' I wanted to take my past and bring it to the future – taking my Mustang and melding it with the Jazz Basses that I loved so much. 

“I tried to have my cake and eat it, too. I wanted the thinner neck, and I wanted the silver-flake, but I wanted it on a Jazz Bass. They knocked it out of the park immediately.”

Getting back to how you used to admire those silver-flake guitars in the shops, you actually started out as a guitarist, right?

“So, the story goes that my brother [My Chemical Romance vocalist Gerard Way] had a Sears acoustic guitar when he was 10 years old. We would take a shoelace and make a strap, and we would stand on the couch pretending we were in Iron Maiden. And then it got real around ’93-’94, which lines up with the rise of alternative music. You started to see people that looked exactly like you, and they were playing guitar. They were playing Fender Strats! 

“My brother got a Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue. I found it not too long ago, and Michael from Fender hot-rodded it. That’s how I cut my teeth – that Mexican Stratocaster [was] my first foray into really trying to learn how to play guitar. I would watch bootlegs of concerts, and watch [guitarists’] hands and fingers – Thom Yorke, Billy Corgan, Noel Gallagher, Jonny Greenwood. I would watch what they were doing. It all started from that.

“Bass came out of necessity, twice. Me and my brother had a band called Ray Gun Jones, I guess in ’95-’96. It was kind of Weezer-ish, or us doing a surf-punk thing [with] a little bit of pre-mid-west emo. At the time we were really into Weezer, Jawbreaker, Promise Ring, Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Sunny Day Real Estate. 

“[Ray Gun Jones] needed a bass player, so my brother was like 'Hey, do you want to play bass for my band?' I was already a huge fan – I’d always tag along to practices. The ex-bass player let me borrow their bass. We had 4-5 songs, and I got the rudimentary from that. In that era, everyone was like, 'I want to be a guitar hero,' but I realized I had a natural knack for [bass]. I picked it up right away. 

“Then, with My Chemical Romance, it was the same thing. My brother was like, 'We need a bass player,' and I was like, 'Well, this is familiar' [laughs]. 'Here’s the demo; learn these songs.' They weren’t terribly difficult.”

Was that bass you had borrowed a Fender Jazz?

“Yup, I’ve only ever played Fender. I’ve tried tons of other basses from other companies, but it always feels alien to me.”

You mentioned studying the playing of Thom Yorke or Billy Corgan through those bootleg vids. Were there any bassists that you treated similarly, to understand the mechanics of bass?

“Matt Sharp from Weezer. I tried to ape him in the beginning, but my attack sounds vaguely reminiscent of a Smashing Pumpkins recording. I would learn Siamese Dream and Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, and the Blue Album [the band’s 1994 self-titled debut] by Weezer. Those were the three albums that I put the most time into learning. That’s in my DNA.”

How about from a hyper-local perspective. If My Chemical Romance started out playing New Jersey basements and VFW halls, where there any bassists from that scene that inspired you, or that you appreciated?

“Yes! We shared a rehearsal space with this band called Pencey Prep – that was [MCR guitarist] Frank Iero’s original band. John McGuire was their bassist, and he let me borrow his equipment all the time. He taught me fundamentals, and gave me pointers – he taught me a whole heck of a lot. 

“I always respected Tim Payne from Thursday, I loved his attack and stage presence. And when I’d watch Gabe Saporta from Midtown, I thought 'This dude is the coolest guy in the room.' He’s got this calm, cool, and collected [presence] that you can’t fake or learn. And then Eben D’amico from Saves the Day – brilliant! 

“I would try to learn Saves the Day basslines. They were pretty complex [compared to] what most bands were doing in that scene. Most bands in the post-hardcore scene had simplistic basslines, but Saves the Day did not.

“There’s also Ray Toro, the guitar player of My Chemical Romance. Not only is he truly gifted at guitar, but he’s truly gifted at bass and drums – Ray can do everything. He was instrumental, early on, with showing me the ropes. Ray gave me lessons when I was a novice. I can’t thank him enough for that.”

What kind of pointers was he giving you?

“He showed me proper fretting, or [how to maintain] a steady attack. I got a really great compliment from our front-of-house guy, Jay Rigby. He told me that I’m one of the very few bass players that he doesn’t have to go in and tweak the volume [for]. 'You’re steady, throughout.' I think that’s something that Ray Toro instilled in me: the consistency of attack. 

“It’s funny thinking about it, but I was such a novice going into My Chemical Romance that I would bring myself into an anxiety-ridden state of, 'Oh my god, we have a show tonight; I have to start practicing right now.' I would be practicing four to five hours before we played – I’d play the set [in the green room], and then I’d play it again. Other bands would be like, 'What are you doing?' I was so neurotic at that point, because there were so many people around me that were beyond gifted. 

“I got pushed into the deep end; you’ve got no choice but to figure it out. Ray and Frank are so gifted that I had to keep up. I didn’t want to ever do the music a disservice.

“That brings me back to the simplicity of the early My Chem basslines. The first album [2002’s I Brought You Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] was me learning the bass, and somehow [producer] John Naclerio recorded me and said, 'You did a great job,' which I did not expect. 

“I thought I was going to go in there and they were going to have to do some studio magic, or someone would come in and play [my] part. I thought of the worst-case scenario, but I went in and did it. I played the bass seriously [enough] by that point.”

What are you generally looking for in a My Chemical Romance bassline? 

“What makes it for me is if I do a fill, I’ll only do it once. If you listen to [the band's 2022 comeback single] The Foundations of Decay, any fill on there I only do one time. What’s interesting about The Foundations of Decay is that it’s very loose and run-and-gun. We went in and punched things in for timing, which everyone in the world does, but the meat of that is first-or-second take. Which brings me to someone else who was very instrumental to my bass playing: Doug McKean.

“He’s no longer with us, unfortunately, but he was our engineer from The Black Parade [until his passing in 2022]. He was always a huge cheerleader for me – he instilled confidence in me. He was always good at getting a killer performance out of me.”

What are some of the biggest My Chemical Romance bass moments for you?

“I’ll say that fill in on Foundations. No-one saw that coming.”

There’s a YouTube video out there of someone playing their favorite Mikey Way basslines, some while using your signature Squier Mustang, but one standout in particular is The Black Parade’s The Sharpest Lives.

“What’s funny is Sharpest Lives has a bass solo, and I was terrified of it. I had performance anxiety [through] the 12 years before we broke up – I don’t have it anymore. Somehow when the band got back together, a switch in my brain [got] flipped. [But] while My Chem was active, I was borderline terrified a lot of the time.

“I’m playing with people far above my skill level, I’m playing [on bills] with bands where their bass players are way better than me, [and] our shows were getting massive. We were playing arenas! So not only are you learning the bass, but you’re learning the bass in front of 20,000 people every night. It made me tweak a little, but I think it shaped me into what I became.

“That solo gave me anxiety. It was when we were playing the biggest venues of our career, and it would break for the solo [Way starts singing his ascending bass lick]. I practiced it relentlessly, then it [became] second nature. Later on, it [became my favorite part of the show.”

You’re already playing the Jazz signature in your live show, yeah?

“It’s what I use for the live show. Basically, Fender built [it] for the reunion, and then we made a couple tweaks for when we release it.”

Was there a learning curve at all towards transferring My Chemical Romance songs you’d written on a Mustang onto the Jazz?

“There was Planetary (GO!), a song off Danger Days. I’d guess you’d say the whole thing is a disco beat. It’s dance-y – [Mikey starts singing an octave-popping bassline], I do that for the entirety of the song. I was very happy that I only had to do that on a Mustang, initially [because of the shorter scale]. But going back to what I said, [after] I took a little break, [I] went back to a Jazz Bass. 

“I missed the room, or the way my hand went up and down the neck. I wanted to go back to that, so I jumped back in and felt right at home again.”

How many Jazzes are you bringing on the road?

“I bring two basses out, [but] I stopped even switching [during the set]. This is a testament to Fender craftsmanship – that thing stays in tune. It’s got the four-saddle bridge, and it stays in tune so well. I’m a little neurotic so I’ll tune every few songs, but if I went five to six songs you probably wouldn’t even notice.”

What does it mean to you to now have a fully-formed Fender signature model – as opposed to the Squier – and with the body shape you began your career with?

“It’s really a dream come true. It’s funny, in 2002-3 we started touring across the country. I had a Mexican Jazz Bass, but [the band] were like, 'You have to use something with better electronics; better wood. Step it up!' So, I went into the Guitar Center on Route 46 in New Jersey, and at the time Fender had released a special Guitar Center edition that was silver-flake. 

“It always bugged me that the pickguard was white – it threw me off, aesthetically, and I was like, 'I’m going to change that pickguard one day.' So, I got that, and I was using that for a while. 

“We were out with [Boston emo quartet] Piebald – it was one of our first cross-country tours ever – and one night someone forgot to close the trailer door. We’re driving on the highway, and half the contents spilled out – unfortunately, my bass was a casualty of that.

“But Frank Iero, and his heart of gold, jumped out on the highway in the middle of the night and tried to recover [the bass]. He was like, 'Maybe we can fix it!' I’ll never forget him doing that. He got a chunk of it – it’s in one of our storage units.”

For more information on the Limited Edition Mikey Way Jazz Bass, head to Fender.com.

[pascallftv]

Girl Next Door— Part 5

Previous Part Series Masterlist

Summary: Joel sets up a date in the bed of his truck and he makes love to you.

Word count: 4.4k

Content: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), truck sex ?!

AN: :’) I think there might just be one more part to this series folks

The next couple of weeks consisted of stolen kisses between your work schedules, and head in positions you hadn’t even imagined. With Joel’s age came wisdom in many areas, with sex being one of them. Many nights you spent curling your toes under Joel as his tongue worked its magic in ways you’d never experienced with your past lover. Although you felt like you had both explored each other’s bodies in every way possible, you still had not had sex. You’d become so comfortable in your sexuality with Joel, and you knew it was just a matter of time before you took it to the next level with him.

Sex would be the point of realization for you. You were a moth drawn to a flame; you were completely and utterly infatuated with him. You thought about him constantly, your mind a tangled web of him: his body, every touch, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at a line in a movie you were watching. The four letter word had crossed your mind, but you couldn’t be sure if that was possible yet. You hadn’t been in love for years, but you couldn’t remember a time when someone gave you intense butterflies and overtook every ounce of your being like Joel had.

It was a Friday night, and Joel told you he and a surprise for you. Being proactive, underneath your comfy clothes was your sexiest matching set of underwear. You were wearing a lace black thong with a matching black bra, and you lathered up with your vanilla body butter and perfume after your shower.

When you pulled into Joel’s driveway, you were puzzled to find that his truck was nowhere to be seen. Joel's front door was unlocked as you stepped inside. His house was dark except for the dim lighting of his lamp in the living room.

“Joel?” You called out, walking towards the living room.

Silence.

You wandered passed the living room to the kitchen, and still no sign of Joel. You peered out of the window above the kitchen sink, and you caught a glimpse of Joel tending to the bed of his truck, the area being lit up by an array of fairy lights strung across the cab. Curious, you made your way out the back door and latched it behind you, the sound making Joel’s head whip around, his brown eyes landing on you. A smile toyed at his lips, and he turned around to lean against the hood of his truck, his hands resting behind him.

“Hi.” You said, smiling at him as you walked closer to him, your eyes scanning his truck to figure out what was going on.

“Hi.” Joel repeated, reaching his arms out to place his hands on either side of your face, leaning down to plant a slow, gentle kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss, pulling away to gawk up at him.

“What’s all this?” You asked, leaning to the side to investigate what was happening with his truck.

“Well, I may or may not have set us up a little date night in the bed of my truck.” Joel said almost shyly, and if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, you saw a trace of a blush on the apples of his cheeks.

“Oh my god, did you?” You gushed as Joel grabbed your hand and led you to the back of his truck.

Your jaw fell as the bed of his truck came into view. Joel had set up fairy lights all around the cab of his truck, with what appeared to be a mattress pad and a cocoon of blankets and pillows neatly laid across the bed. Placed on the metal toolbox at the head of the bed of his truck was an assortment of snacks and a bottle of wine. In the middle of the blanket was a pack of playing cards and a stargazing guide book.

“Joel, holy shit.” You muttered. “This is.. wow.”

“You like it?” Joel said, his hand reaching up to the back of his neck to scratch a nonexistent itch.

“Of course I do, this is so cute.” You said in awe, squeezing his hand.

“Here.” He said, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you up onto the bed of the truck, the mattress soft under you. He climbed up beside you, your eyes traveling to take in his outfit. He was wearing those sweatpants you loved so much. You loved his usual outfits, but he looked extra good in those goddamn sweatpants and those plain t-shirts. You slid off your shoes, tossing them onto the ground below. Joel mimicked your actions, throwing his in the same general area as yours.

“This might actually be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.” You said as Joel sat next to you, his hand falling to rest on the warm skin of your thigh.

“You deserve nothing but the best.” Joel said, gently cupping your jaw with his fingertips, kissing you softly. His woodsy scent enveloped your senses, and you felt your stomach do a flip as his lips moved against yours. No matter how many times you kissed and touched, you still felt the frenzy of butterflies in your belly.

You pulled away, running your tongue over your bottom lip to taste him. “We better stop or this date will end early.” You teased, reaching down to grab the playing cards.

“Ever played king’s corner?” You asked, taking out the carts to shuffle in your lap.

“I think you forget that I’m old and decrepit.” Joel joked, watching you in amusement as you failed miserably at shuffling the cards. “I’ve played every card game you’ve ever heard of.”

“Gin rummy?” He nodded.

“Bullshit?” He nodded.

“Strip poker?” He gave you a funny look and sighed.

“Many times.” He said, dealing cards to both of you, and starting the game in front of you. He placed four cards around the remaining deck, letting you start the game.

“Loser gives the other head.” You said bluntly, putting down three cards in their respective places.

Joel gazed down at you in shock at your words and nonchalant behavior.

“You sure you want to bet that?” Joel asked, squeezing your thigh, before placing his own cards down, finishing off one of the corners. With the cards you put down.

“Wouldn’t have offered it if I did want to.” You said, looking up at him with a playful expression.

The game dragged on, the both of you nearing the end of your hand before having to draw from the deck.

“You’re edgin’ me, darlin’.” Joel said as you almost won but were forced to draw from the deck. You had two cards left, Joel with three. With two rows left, the game was bound to end very soon.

“Fuck.” You said with nowhere to place your cards. “Your turn.”

Joel kisses you on the cheek, then places down his remaining cards on the remaining rows.

“Uh oh, looks like I won.” Joel teased, reaching behind you to grab the bottle of white wine and his corkscrew. He popped the cork open, taking a swig straight from the bottle. He held the bottle out for you, you taking it and rolling your eyes, taking a sip.

“Seems fishy to me.” You said, handing the bottle back to him. Joel laughed, shaking his head at you.

“Was a win either way for me, baby.” Joel smirked, taking another drink of wine before placing it back on the toolbox.

The sun had set on the horizon, the shades of pink and orange in the sky fading into a black with the glistening array of stars glimmering overhead. The night air had settled into a crisp, gentle breeze. Your hair blew gently away from your face, your complexion glowing as Joel admired your beauty.

“Before I give you your reward, I want to figure out what these stars are.” You said, grabbing the stargazing guide and opening it up. You tilted your head up and observed the different stars above you, the brightest ones standing out to you.

Joel watched you attentively while you bit your lip as you tried to distinguish what star was what. You always did that when you were focused— you bit your bottom lip and your brows always taught together when you were deep in thought.

“Wait, that’s Polaris.” You said, pointing up towards the brightest star in the sky. “Which means that’s the Little Dipper.”

Joel followed your finger, spotting the constellation and smiling softly at your excitement. He looked back over at you, your eyes radiating in joy. Your eyes flickered back to him, his stare locked on you.

“What?” You said with a smile.

“You’re so beautiful.” Joel said softly, memorizing every inch of your face. He never wanted this moment to end.

His heart sank when he realized your father was going to be home soon. The past couple weeks had been the happiest of his life, but good things like you weren’t meant for him. He knew he didn’t deserve to keep you, and it was only a matter of time before you moved on for someone your age. It was also impossible to keep this from your father. As soon as he got home, he knew the dynamic would have to change. The realization broke him internally, but in this moment, he wanted to focus on you and memorize every moment just in case he had to let you go.

You felt your lip quiver at his words. He looked at you like you were the most precious thing in existence. Like Joel, you were just as much memorizing every wrinkle of his complexion, as well as the way his beard faded from a salty gray to a peppery brunette.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You said, closing the stargazing book and placing it behind you onto the toolbox next to the wine and playing cards. You sat up and shifted over to Joel on your knees, placing your hand on his chest, directing him to lay flat. He obeyed, laying his head down on the pillows, his body flat against the soft foam mattress pad. You carefully straddled him, leaning down to press your lips to his.

Joel pulled away briefly, grabbing your face in his hands, his eyes dancing between your eyes, taking in the moment. “I should be askin’ you the same thing.”

He kissed you again, your lips moving perfectly in sync, your tempo gentle and slow. His hands trailed down your back, his fingertips dragging along the back of your shirt. His hands stopped at your ass, squeezing the supple skin underneath your thin, cotton shorts. You moaned into his mouth, your center coming down onto his hardening erection. He grunted in response, the friction making him throb underneath you.

You pulled your mouth away from his, trying to catch your breath. “I think I owe you something, Mr. Miller.” Said whispered, rolling your hips against his before snaking back down his thighs, opening his legs with your knee. You settled on your knees between his legs.

“You’re a little vixen, you know that?” Joel mumbled as he watched you loop your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers. “Drive me absolutely fucking crazy.”

You smiled up at him through your eyelashes as you pulled his cock out of his pants, catching his erection in your hand. You squeezed him gently, stroking him in the skin of your soft palm, before removing it to pull his pants all the way off. Joel’s brows taught inwards at the friction, his jaw going slack. Your touch felt like some sort of black magic, making him melt underneath you.

“Fuck, baby.” Joel groaned as you lowered your mouth onto his tip. He moaned when he felt himself nudge the back of your throat. You stayed there, bobbing your head up and down, your hand stroking rhythmically on his leftover length. His hand flew down to your hair and you took him entirely in your mouth, taking him down your throat to the hilt.

You moaned with him in your mouth, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure down his length and into his abdomen. Joel bucked his hips up, the pleasure driving him insane. You could feel his shaft throbbing in your mouth, it twitching at each bob of your head. You knew he wasn’t going to last much longer if you kept up the pace. You felt your center beginning to throb beneath you. You squeezed your thighs shut for some sort of relief, but you needed more.

“God, fuck.” Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, as you began stroking him again, pulling your mouth away from him to catch your breath.

“Joel.” You rasped, your voice raw from his length. “I want you.”

He opened his eyes, looking down at you with an expression as if he was trying to understand what you meant by those three words. You slowed your pace with your hand, leaning forward to kiss him gently.

You pulled away, your eyes searching his. Joel’s hand found your face, the pad of his thumb rubbing the supple skin of your cheek.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Joel asked, his gaze not leaving yours. He needed reassurance that that’s what you truly wanted.

“I’m sure.” You confirmed, lowering your hips down against his erection and grinding against it gently, the sensation making him groan immediately.

“I don’t have a condom.” He said, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I’m on birth control, I have the implant.” You assured him, grabbing his finger and bringing it up to your arm, letting him feel the rod underneath your skin. He looked from your arm back to your eyes. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Joel nodded, pulling you down to kiss you harder. In a swift motion, Joel flipped you over, him now hovering over you with your back flat against the blankets. His hands began exploring you, trailing from your thighs, up your belly, to your breasts where he paid extra attention. He pulled up your shirt, pulling your breasts out over your bra and kneading them one by one as his lips moved against yours. You pulled away from the kiss momentarily, helping him pull your shirt over your head.

“Need to feel you.” Joel muttered against your lips, his hand leaving your chest to venture to the waistband of your shorts. You lifted your hips off the blanket to allow him to pull the shorts down your legs, leaving your black thong on display for him.

“So breathtakin’, baby.” He murmured, trailing kisses down your belly to the waistband of your panties, pulling the fabric back with two fingers, letting it gently snap back against your skin. Not wanting to tease you any longer, his finger traced your heat over the thin fabric of the thong. The moisture from your arousal was pooling at the material under your core, Joel ghosting soft circles over your bundle of nerves. You let out a quiet wine underneath him, bucking your hips up into his fingers. He exhaled deeply at the feeling of your arousal soaking through the lace of your thong. He pushed the damp fabric aside, revealing your glistening slick to him. He ran a finger up your folds, collecting the arousal to rub against your clit.

“Fuck.” You said breathily, your hands fisting the blanket for leverage. Joel pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up at you through his eyelashes. The sight of him between your legs made your core throb. You were so wound up already, you knew you weren’t going to last long under his touch.

You inhaled sharply as Joel licked a stripe up your soaking folds, his finger still playing with your clit haphazardly. He stuck his tongue inside your opening, fucking you with his tongue. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you whimpered at the feeling. You exhaled deeply when he pulled his mouth away from your heat.

“Just needed a taste of you.” Joel said, kissing up the expanse of your pubic bone to your tummy.

Joel’s tongue was soon replaced with his middle finger. You gasped quietly as he pumped his finger in and out of you, curling it up perfectly to put pressure against your g spot. He always knew just where to touch you to make you go crazy. Between his finger inside of you and his opposite thumb toying with you clit, you already felt sex drunk. Joel added his ring finger, stretching you perfectly to prepare you for his cock.

“Can’t wait to feel all of you.” Joel said, planting another kiss to your public bone, his beard tickling your supple skin.

“N-need you.” You whined, your legs jolting when he bent down to suck softly on your bundle of nerves. At your words, Joel removed his fingers from you, making eye contact as he sucked your juices off his fingers. He then slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aimlessly behind him. Joel lifted his shirt over his head, exposing the soft skin of his stomach. He wasn’t buff, but he was perfect to you.

“Lift up, sweetheart.” Joel coaxed you, tapping your sides by your ribs, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, sliding it off your shoulders. You were completely bare to each other now, feeling wildly exposed in the night air. Your skin was glowing under the dim lighting of the fairy lights, the twinkle in your eye illuminating.

“I could look at you forever.” You whispered, pulling Joel down to kiss you. You kissed him with everything in you. You weren’t the best with expressing your feelings through words, so every ounce of emotion within you you fueled into the kiss. Your soft lips tasted of white wine as your lips danced against each other, Joel settling between your legs. You whined into his mouth as his crotch grinded against yours, his erection warm against your glistening core.

Joel’s lips moved from your to your neck, his kisses gentle and warm against your skin. Your jaw went slack as you felt Joel’s tip rubbing against the slick of your folds. You were soaked with arousal, him moving against you with ease.

“So pretty, baby.” Joel reiterated as he slowly pushed his tip against your opening, the pressure driving you mad.

“Fuck, Joel.” You muttered, your forehead resting against his, your breath rolling over his.

He pushed slowly into you, inching his length to stretch your walls around him. You grabbed his biceps, squeezing his muscles as he settled into you, his hips touching yours as he filled you completely to the hilt. Your walls were tight around him, conforming to his girth.

“Fuck, you feel amazin’.” Joel groaned, sliding his cock out of you to the ridge of his tip, before slowly pushing it back inside. “Like your body was made for me.”

His words electrified your core, your lower belly feeling coiled tight with heat. His strokes were rhythmic, and you were completely and utterly fucked. He filled you so perfectly, and after this moment, you realized you never wanted to fuck anyone else ever again. It was almost as if his cock was molded just for you, his length hitting nerves deep inside of you that you hadn’t known existed.

Joel lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his thrusts hitting even deeper within you. You whimpered as he hit your cervix, the sensation making your walls throb around him. His free hand fell to your pubic bone, his hand pressing down against you to push your g spot against his length, while lowering his thumb to rub circles against your clit.

“Oh my god.” You mewled. Your core was clamping and that familiar electrifying heat was rushing through your abdomen and through your limbs. You’d hardly realized when Joel leaned down to take your breast his mouth, lightly sucking on your pebbled nipple. He toyed with your other nipple, his fingers pinching it gently.

“You drive me absolutely fucking crazy.” Joel panted as he quickened his pace, the sound of your skin slapping together becoming more prominent. “You know just how to make this old man feel young again.”

Your vision went fuzzy as he lowered his hand to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass, his rough fingertips digging into your skin for more leverage.

“I can feel you clenchin’ around me, sweetheart.” Joel mumbled, his forehead damp with perspiration. “Let go for me, it’s okay.”

“F-fuck.” You let out a strangled moan, your eyes clamping shut as you felt your high drawing near. Your core was wound tight, and you knew the coils were going to unravel at any second with his relentless pace. Joel wasn’t far behind you, his cock twitching inside of you.

“God, baby. I’m close.” Joel whined, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

Your breaking point was when Joel’s thumb found its way to your clit again, working circles into your nerves. You saw stars and your ears began to ring as your orgasm overcame you, sending shocks through the nerves of your body. Every inch of your body was on fire, and you felt like your soul had left your body and was now among the stars overhead. While you were blissfully coming down from your high, Joel came, his release coating your walls in hot spurts, a strangled moan falling from his lips. Still inside you, he laid over you, but was sure to not crush you under his weight. You were both panting, your foreheads damp with sweat.

You laid like that for a while, basking in the aftermath of your highs. Your body felt way more weightless and relaxed than any of the orgasms Joel and gave you over the course of the last couple weeks. Not only was your body physically drained, but the explosion of emotions you were feeling in that moment for the man laying on you had completely taken over your mind.

He was perfect in every way. He was kind to you, had a sense of humor (despite being dry at times), and more than anything he made you feel happy. For the past few years you had felt incredibly discouraged at ever being able to find love again. It took years to finally love yourself and your body after being convinced by your ex that it was something wrong with you, not him. It’s hard to comprehend how one person can ruin every ounce of self love you’ve ever had for yourself in a singular moment, leaving you with years of healing to do. But in that moment with Joel, you felt content. How long this bliss would last was unsure to you, but in that moment, you knew he was your person.

“Get under the blanket, sweetheart.” Joel said, coaxing you to sit up to help you slither under the covers, the blanket soft against your bare skin. Joel laid flat, letting you cuddle up into his side, your cheek pressed against his chest.

The sound of his heartbeat was soothing to you, the thumps almost hypnotic. Joel’s fingers played with the end of your hair, twirling around strands here and there.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked Joel, glancing up to see his forehead creased in deep thought. He sighed and kissed the top of your head, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo.

“You.” Joel said simply, his other hand coming down to lace his fingers with yours on his chest. He kissed your forehead this time, brushing the flyaways that had gotten stuck on the damp skin.

“What about me?” You whispered, closing your eyes at his relaxing touch.

“Thinkin’ about you and me.” He began. “Our future.”

Joel frowned, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, feeling your stomach do a flip. As amazing as things were between you for the time being, you couldn’t help but wonder what things would be like moving forward. Soon your dad would be home and you’d have to hide your relationship, or whatever the situation you had going on was. Neither of you had discussed labels, you were simply just enjoying your time with each other and relishing in your feelings.

“Your dad will be home soon.” Joel said quietly, his hand moving from your hair to your back, tracing small circles on your skin.

“I know.” You whispered, your tone defeated.

“I care about you a lot.” Joel muttered, inhaling a deep breath before exhaling. “And I want nothin’ more than to spend all of my time with you. I haven’t felt this happy in years, and I just don’t know what to do about your father. I care about him too, and I can’t stand the thought of hurting him.”

You felt tears brewing in your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away. As much as his words stung, it was the hard truth. The odds of your father being accepting of this relationship were slim to none, and you knew it wasn’t going to be easy for either of you trying to sneak around. While it was easy to maintain the dynamic you had with no one around, it was going to be taxing going from acting like you were together when your father was gone, to acting distant once he returned home from work.

“Don’t think for a second that I’ll give up on you, sweetheart.” Joel said, tilting your head up with his finger under your chin before pressing a kiss to your lips. Your cheeks were flushed and your eyes were glossy. The sight of tears in your eyes shattered Joel.

“It’s going to be hard but we’ll figure somethin’ out.” Joel said, but it was almost as if he was trying to convince himself, not you.

“I want you more than anything, Joel.” You said, softly kissing his jawline.

“Maybe my dad won’t be as opposed as we think?” You offered with hope laced in your tone, tracing your finger against his chest, watching goosebumps rise beneath your touch. Joel sighed, squeezing your hand again.

“It’s hard tellin’.” Joel murmured. “I do know one thing. What matters is how two people make each other feel, not how their relationship makes other people feel.”

You took a deep breath at his words, closing your eyes as you tried to relax.

“It’ll all be okay, I promise.”

taglist— @ghostwritesthings, @magpiepills, @laurrrra, @brittmb115, @kaislashes, @smccul

[nyxyxx]

Godly Desires - Part 5

Disappeared for a while for holidays and stuff. Happy New Year folks. This chapter is quite short but the good parts come next so that's exciting. (Also with a little bit of lore hehe). I. II. III. IV. V. Warning: This series will contain yandere content and religious themes.

"The City of Wind"

-

In the woods, stirring from its ancient slumber was a darkness so wicked and vicious, the very life that surrounded it began to wither and decay, rotting away from its presence alone. This darkness, it had a mind of its own, yet had no name to accompany it. Perhaps it once had a name, but said name has been long lost in the archaic oceans of time. Sunk deep within the waters of the world, lived a name so egregious, that uttering it would only bring about misfortune.

There was a prophecy to be told about this darkness. An ancient prophecy, one that was older than the gods themself. A legend told from within the land, an old story that was soon to be unearthed. Though this story would very soon present itself, discovered in the depths of the sea, now is not the time.

"It is the calm before the storm, my love."

-

"Stop right there!" A young girl emerged from the trees and promptly ran towards you. Dressed in red, white and brown, alongside the pyro vision at her hip, it was the ever-so recognizable Outrider Amber. She stood in front of you, with an air of justice and gentleness. "May the anemo God protect you, stranger!" She announced, suspiciously gazing over your strangely dressed self. "I am Outrider Amber, of the knights of favonius, and who are you?"

"Oh uh...I'm [___]"

Amber simply stared at you in silence, looking a lot different than her typical self. Almost like she was thinking really hard about something, but also staring at you. Noticing how weird she was being, she kinda just turned away from you, her ears tinted a little pinkish.

...

There was somewhat of an awkward silence following. You gave her a fake name, as Diluc had mentioned it may be a good idea to do so, though you found it to be quite strange. Still, this was just way too awkward. Why wasn't she responding? Did you already do something wrong?

"Oh um...right. Where was I..." Amber snapped back into her usual persona, and thus you carefully explained your situation to her, keeping a few things hidden, but otherwise being truthful. She seemed to relax after a while of talking to her, even opening up a little bit.

"If you'd like, I can take you to the city, there have been lots of monsters in the area recently." She said, a little bit shy. It was uncalled for, but since she was offering you her company, you accepted happily.

Reaching the gates of the city, you glanced up at the sky. Though you had seen Mondstadt many times it looked so much more beautiful in person. Maybe your dream just had such great detail to it. Amber hastily showed you around, though it was mostly unneeded, as the entire city felt so familiar, to you. She quickly mentioned that she had to get back to work, and hoped that you had a good time while you remained in Mondstadt.

You couldn't help but shake the feeling that there was something that you were missing. Some important reason that you had to come here. Like you had been sent here for some purpose that you can't quite remember. You tried really hard to think of what that could've been, but attempting to do only led to your head hurting.

Well, you were here anyways. You might as well try and find something fun to do. So, swallowing those strange feelings, you decided to try someplace that might be interesting. The local tavern, perhaps.

-

Taglist: @justyoureader; @mmeatt; @iamapotatoe; @clavichordcleffa; @yu-ulda; @c3rtifiedsimp; @eravariety; @vianitry; @dulcedelechenginamo; @reveihehe; @liansh3ng; @angelofdarkness2; @yarabutterfly;

[destructive-path]

Patrol Partner Protection Syndrome - E.W.

summary: Ellies habit of going above and beyond her duties as a patrol partner causes you to question her motives.

tags: patrol partner!ellie, slight innocent! reader, ellie is older than you in this, swearing, a kiss is shared at the end, no smut in this one folks just good ol fashion yearning :)

a/n: as usual i wrote this very spur of the moment and its not proofread but you love me anyways so j shut up and enjoy

“Yep, that sounds like a classic case of the 3PS.”

“3PS? That sounds like a fucking star wars character.”

A loud laugh leaves Jesses lips at your remark furthering your frustration visibly before Dina smacks him on the shoulder gently.

“Patrol partner protection syndrome.” Dina says plainly.

“What the hell is that?”

“Its why Ellie threatened that guy that was flirting with you at the bison last night.”

The look on your face is still riddled with confusion. Dina sighs deeply, your innocence was always something that was a little difficult for others to adjust to. Explaining certain topics always took a little longer when it came to you.

“Sometimes, when two people get paired up on patrol they begin to…how should I say this? Okay look. Usually in a pair theres one person who feels a strong obligation to protect the other. It doesnt always have to be the stronger person per say. On patrol you and this one person go through some serious shit together. You both become more and more venerable the more you put your trust in them and let them protect you, aaand sometimes the lines blur between them protecting you to keep you alive and them protecting you because they think they are meant to. All the time.”

You slowly begin to understand.

“Its what happened with me and Jesse…Tommy and Maria too.”

“Wait but you’re all couples.”

Jesse and Dina look at each other then look at you. A grin fights its way on both their faces, then your eyes grow wide.

“Oh my god….OH? MY GOD? Are you saying Ellie likes me?”

They both burst out into laughter, once again making you feel extremely embarrassed. You cross your arms in frustration and slump further in your chair.

“Hey. Hey hey. Im not saying she HAS a crush on you, because thats not my place to assume how she feels completely.”

“Buut she did mention her heart beats faster anytime you smile at her, and thats like pretty gay.”

“JESSE.”

Jesse throws his hands up in defense, then shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Sorry! Look am I wrong? You two would be great together. Plus i’m sick of hearing about you every time Ellie comes over.”

“JESSE!”

“What? WHAT?”

“Your killing them.”

You felt exhausted. Ellie had feelings for you? She consoled in her best friends about your smile? This changes everything. How were you supposed to see her casually or for patrol, knowing what you knew now.

“Jesus im losing it.”

“Well, do you feel anything for Ellie?”

You thought about it for a moment.

“I-I dont know. I mean I like having her around. She always makes me feel comfortable…safe. I really like when she cooks for me or plays me songs on her guitar. She always looks so cool when she plays, and her voice is sooo pretty. I mean shes also really pretty too. Well not pretty…more like-“

As you search for the right word to describe Ellie you notice the way the couple looks at you. Like you just said something incredibly obvious and extremely oblivious to you. Then it sinks in.

“Oh my god I like Ellie.”

They both nod in unison.

“I gotta go.” You shoot up and grab your bag then rush out Dina and Jesses place, not bothering to say your goodbyes. You only had one thing in mind.

Ellie.

—

As you run as fast as your legs can muster, you think about the events of last night that led you to Dinas and Jesses inquiring them for advice.

It was all very trivial and cliche. You had been dancing at the Tipsy Bison after a few shots of whiskey, on your own. The usual gang was there minding their own except for Ellie. She always had her eyes on you whenever your presence was near. Glass in hand as she leaned on the bar watching while you spun around the room. Ellie couldn’t bring herself to join you, so she settled for being an audience member. She always admired your outgoing nature, never concerned on what others think of you. As Ellie thought about other attributes you had that made her fall for you, someone else had decided to take it upon them to impede on your dance party of one.

Some man tall in height but skinny in stature stood uncomfortably close to you. Uncomfortable for Ellie that is. The grip had tightened on her glass so that if she clenched any harder it would break. The sight of the mans arm slithering around your waist and pulling you close had Ellie swallowing the rest of the contents of her drink and slamming the glass on the bar counter and making her way over to you both.

“Ellie-“ Dina tried to stop her due to the angry nature of the glass hitting the wood making a sound loud enough to pull the couple away from whatever they were having, but its no good.

“Save it.” Ellie snaps, then makes her way over to you. As she advances closer she can tell you weren’t one hundred percent comfortable with this random mans advances on you. She knew you were too nice, too innocent to understand that his intentions were not pure and that you didnt have the strength to push him away. But Ellie sure did.

“Thats enough of that.” Ellie says as she rips the mans arms off of you and grabs your wrists to pull you away from him.

“Woah woah who the fuck are you?”

“Im Ellie, and we are leaving.”

“I think they can make that decision for themselves huh?”

Ellie looks at you with a deep frustration. One you had never seen in those eyes before. Not even on patrol, this was something by different. If you weren’t so tipsy you could swear it was laced with a heavy amount of possession.

“Ellie.” you slur slightly.

“We are leaving. Now.” Before the man can protest you were being pulled out the door and into the cold jackson night.

The walk back to your place was silent. Ellies grip on your wrist had morphed into a waffling hand hold sometime after you exited the Tipsy Bison. The warmth of her fingers intertwined with yours made you heat up inside, blushing extremely prominently due to the alcohol running through your system.

When you had finally reached your door Ellie pulls you face to face with her. Hand still together. She uses her free hand to push some loose strands of off your face to see you better. A soft smile twitches on her lips for a moment then she finally speaks.

“Go inside and go to bed, you’re drunk.” Its not the farewell you hoped for, but it’s soft. Ellie utters the words with care in her own way. You can’t help but stare at her through lidded puppy eyes and nod slowly.

You turn to unlock the door then turn back around.

“Goodnight Ellie.” You whisper in a way that makes her heart ache.

“Goodnight.”

It’s only when she turns around to walk away does she finally let go of your hand.

“Ellie? Ellie please open up I know you’re in there.”

After knocking for what felt like forever you were finally graced with the sounds of locks being undone. You take a step back and watch the door swing open revealing a slightly disheveled looking Ellie. Still she renders you speechless for a moment her appearance making you shy, as it always has.

“What’s up?” She says genuinely concerned. You see her face soften when she realized the interruption of her personal time was you. The difference making you blush.

“I-Can I come in?”

Her eyes grow wide, you hadn’t been inside of her space yet. The vision of you and her in her room alone flashes through her brain. She steps aside and opens the door fully to make room for you to enter.

“Oh yeah of course please come in. Sorry.” She laughs shyly. You make your way into her space and can no longer hold your questions to yourself.

“Sorry its kind of a mess I wasnt really expecting any-“

“Ellie do you like me?” Its silent for a moment before Ellie speaks up.

“Of course I like you kid, you’re my patrol partner.”

“No not in that way I mean, you’re always looking out for me and making me things. Even when we aren’t on patrol! You act like my bodyguard sometimes…”

Ellie knows exactly where to is going. Your confrontation of her actions makes her smile a bit.

“I feel the need to protect you outside of patrol sometimes, sure.” Shes looking right in your eyes, observing the look on your face so she doesn’t say the wrong thing. Right now you look as if you had just been hypnotized eyes devoid of much thought.

“3PS.” You whisper, just loud enough for Ellie to hear. It’s quiet for a moment then an involuntary scoff comes from Ellie as she raises her arm to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“You’ve been talking to fucking Jesse.” She laughs and turns away from you. You watch her in awe of what you felt like Jesse and Dina had prophesied. Was it really that simple? The act of protecting someone equating to love was a thought that made your heart swell.

“Ellie…I like you. Alot. But I need to know if you like like me or if you just like me enough to protect me. Like you would protect Jesse or Dina. Because I thought I just liked you but then I started thinking about your voice-“

“My voice?” Ellie had turned back around and was still while watching this confession spill out of you. Her question driving a step closer to you, the advancement unbeknownst to you due to the rambling of your thoughts.

“Yes your voice, and the way you sing and play guitar for me and how much i like it-”

Another step.

“-and how pretty you sound when you sing-“

Step.

“-and how pretty you look, well- not pretty but-“

With this last step you had only now realized how close she had gotten. Speech dying at the lack of a word to describe Ellies appearance. You were certain there wasn’t a word so great.

“You don’t think i’m pretty?” Shes pouts, lost on your words. The praise of her leaving your lips so easily is something she would soon crave often. Your breath begins to pick up slightly at her question. The look on her face causes you to whimper slightly. A look of hurt adorns her face, exaggerated to make you feel bad for her.

“No.” You protest meekly.

“No?” Ellie shakes her head in offense.

“No! I-I mean…I think you’re very pretty Ellie.” You shakily admit. The words make you feel a wave of embarrassment in this situation. Her proximity not making this confession any easier.

“Yeah?” She questions rising her hands to push your hair out of your face as she did the night before. The feeling of her fingertip makes you lean into her touch, closing your eyes at the soft stroke of her digit on your forehead.

“Mhhm” You nod and sigh simultaneously. As your head falls due to your loss of strength at her touch, she takes your head into her hand and strokes your cheek with her thumb. This delicate action causes your eyes to open slowly meeting Ellies green ones. Everything about her exudes admiration. She cant get enough of how at her disposal you seemed to be in this moment. The sight of you had coaxed out the need to protest admitting her feelings. No longer afraid that you might deny her.

“I..like like you too.” She whispers while staring at your lips, licking her own at the sight of them. The new shine of her lips brings a heat to your cheeks, Ellie notices this and inhales deep. Her confession has you reeling. The sound of her voice as she admits her likeness towards you radiates need. For once you are certain it’s because of you. Ellie needed you. Ellie wanted you.

“Stay with me today. Hmm? Let me show you.” The softness of her request is as comforting as a pillow. You can tell she so desperately wants to rid you of any doubts that Ellie was completely and utterly infatuated with you.

“Show me what?” You ask curious of what she had in store. She licks her lips again. Then brings your face so close that you can feel Ellies breath on your lips as she whispers-

“How much I like you.”

before placing a desperate kiss on your lips.

~

[blues824]

Hashira with a s/o that worships them with love, but it's sadly not returned to the reader! And the reader gets Hanahaki Disease, dying or falling out of love with hashira and fell for someone else, or even having their feelings finally returned!

Major angst, Hashira falling out of love with fellow Hashira Reader. Reader is gender-neutral, and a family member of Kagaya Ubuyashiki. 

First time writing for Hanahaki AU!

Gyomei Himejima

With his dedication to honoring and worshiping the gods, he simply had no time for you. Your love was the most expendable option to him. He knew that he would be dishonoring his master by doing this, but surely he would understand. So, he started becoming disinterested.

Then, one day, you were bedridden with fever and a cough. Your uncle had put you on house-arrest, making sure that you weren’t hurt. However, through your 5th coughing fit, bloodied petals had fallen from your throat and out of your mouth.

Kagaya looked at the napkin, and he realized that it might be the curse that was placed upon his family. You were his late sibling’s child and you still had the family name, so the curse was acting upon you. He had told one of his daughters to go get Gyomei, and he realized what had happened.

Upon hearing your wheezing, he felt horrible. He was the reason you were dying, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He had fallen out of love with you. All he could do was pray that you fall in love with someone else. 

But, your condition was continuously getting worse. Out of moral obligation, he sticks by your side. He feels like the shittiest piece of shit in all of Japan. So, as you lay there dying, he prays and prays for your healing. However, his feelings about you remained as they are, and you eventually passed away.

Mitsuri Kanroji

As loving as she usually was, she only had eyes for Obanai. Hence, you were kind of left in the dust with your own feelings. She didn’t mean to, as she didn’t know you loved her in that way. Her obliviousness led to your demise… how fitting.

Mitsuri didn’t understand what was going on when she heard that you were coughing up petals, she had never heard of Hanahaki disease. She just thought that it might be the master’s family’s curse carrying out its job, and that made her sad.

Since you were a dear friend to her, she often accompanied Shinobu at your bedside. After all, she wants all of her friends to not be lonely when they’re dying, as she believes that is the saddest way to die. She tries her best to keep you comfortable, an early form of palliative care.

She didn’t think the bloodied flower petals were disgusting. It wasn’t like you could control it, after all. If only the Love Hashira knew that it was her fault. She didn’t love you back, and that’s why you were lying in bed and throwing up flowers.

Eventually, it got to a point where you were too weak, and you were constantly choking on the flowers that you were coughing up. She understood that you were going to die, so she stayed by you at every single moment she could. The tears she shed as you were fading away fell onto your hand because she was holding it so you wouldn’t feel alone as you passed on.

Giyu Tomioka

He believed that if he learned not to get attached to anyone, he wouldn’t get hurt anymore. Thus, he shut off all of his emotions, including love. No surgery needed for this one, folks. You were fine with not having your feelings returned, but you were over-exerting yourself by always making sure that Giyu was alright.

When you had contracted the disease, the Water Hashira was by your bedside within moments of his master telling him. Even though he turned off his emotions, he still did care about you. He noticed all your efforts and appreciated them.

But, he saw the bloodied petals and knew immediately what it was. There were tales and legends of this disease, and he would kill the person who did this to you. However, you refused to give up any information, meaning you still held back your feelings from him. 

You were rapidly coughing up more and more petals while getting weaker and weaker. You could barely lift your finger without Giyu’s help. Mans had to refrain himself from snapping at Shinobu for touching you or causing you any sort of discomfort.

Unfortunately, you never got a kiss or even a confession, so your state deteriorated by a lot at a rapid pace until you were on your last breaths. Once your eyes started closing, Tomioka knew that it was over. What he didn’t expect was for his crying to end up in him coughing. He held his hand to his mouth, and saw that a petal had fallen.

Tengen Uzui

His family tradition strictly called for three spouses, and those positions have already been taken. He makes sure to spend time with all three of his wives while also balancing training time, so there was little room to hang out with his friends, including you.

Once Ubuyashiki had learned about the Hanahaki disease you had unfortunately contracted from your unrequited love, he had informed the other Hashira that you were out for the count. Tengen was worried, but he thought that you would be alright eventually.

He visited once, and you were coughing up flowers left and right. That wasn’t normal at all. Maybe you wouldn’t be okay. From that point on, he and his wives visited you almost everyday. Whenever he was on a mission, Hinatsuru, Makio, and Suma were there to help Shinobu.

But, since your feelings for the Sound Hashira weren’t reciprocated, you just got worse and worse. Eventually, you couldn’t even sit up. It was evident that it would take a full-blown miracle for you to recover, but that was a long shot.

So, the four of them spent as much time as they could with you. This wasn’t a very flamboyant situation that you have found yourself in, huh? No matter, since he would make sure that you would be honored until the end of time.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

The last time he loved somebody, they were taken away from him. So, he saw no point in pursuing love again. It just causes distraction and can make you act irrationally whenever your loved one is in danger. However, that greatly affected you, since you loved Sanemi.

Then, one day, you were training with him when it suddenly got very difficult to maintain your breathing technique. The Wind Hashira thought you were being weak and dramatic until he saw you coughing up literal flower petals with splatters of blood here and there.

Out of pure worry, he picked you up into his arms and carried you to your uncle, who had you lay in bed for days on end. Sanemi would visit you as much as he could, feeling like shit for thinking you were fine and just faking it at the beginning.

As a week passes, your breaths become raspy. You were on the brink of death, and it was easy to see. Shinazugawa doesn’t know much about being soft and sappy and crap like that, but what he does know is that he does care about you. He doesn’t like it when you are coughing up and choking on petals.

But, as we all know, this fic does not have any happy endings. Sanemi is scared, but he doesn’t know what he has to do, and you don’t tell him. Being a Hashira with the Ubuyashiki name meant that the probability of you living past 30 was exceedingly low. So, either way you would have died soon. That meant there was no point in confessions. But, your fellow Hashira cried seeing life fade from your eyes.

Shinobu Kocho

She has no time; trying to keep her anger within her as she is a Hashira as well as a doctor was a full-time job already. However, she thought you were such a great friend. You understood her struggle, and you would often accompany her on her missions.

During one of these missions, you had doubled over in pain and coughs. The Insect Hashira rushed to your side to pat your back to get the phlegm out, but all that came out were bloody petals. She let out an audible gasp, but she sent her crow to Kagaya to tell him what had happened.

Once you both returned, you were immediately taken in by your uncle and put to bed for days. Shinobu became your doctor, and she did so much research about the topic. She didn’t want to pry into your personal life, so she thought that the surgery to get it removed might be a good alternative.

However, you knew the cost of getting the surgery. Not only was it a risky procedure, but you would lose your ability to feel emotions. So, you refused. She was getting frustrated to the point of yelling at you for not going with the surgery, but you knew that she just didn’t want to lose you.

So, she resigned to your fate. You were going to die, and there was nothing she could do about it (or so you told her). She started a palliative care plan for you, trying to make you comfortable during your last moments. But, she was out of the room getting you some tea when you drew your final breath.

Kyojuro Rengoku

He was just completely oblivious to your love. He saw you as a comrade and a co-worker, and nothing more. But, you told yourself that you were fine with where things were at. It wasn’t like it was causing you any physical ailments, after all.

Surprise! You contracted Hanahaki Disease, and you coughed up petals in the kitchen of the Ubuyashiki home. One of your cousins saw and escorted you to your room so that you could rest. Your uncle had informed the Hashiras that you were ill, and Kyojuro was worried.

The Flame Hashira ran to your bedside, where you were coughing up bloody flower petals. Mans went from worried to scared in 5 seconds, and it made him kind of nauseous.  This made you feel bad, thinking he was disgusted by you, and he had to assure you that it wasn’t you.

There was one time where you were in a coughing fit, and he was there to softly rub your back to offer you some sense of comfort, but it did little to help. He often tried to distract you from the painful sickness by telling you stories of his little brother, but again, it didn’t do much to help.

As much as he wished and prayed, nothing could be done if your feelings for him weren’t returned. Kyojuro didn’t want to lose his friend. But, you were getting weaker and weaker, and he was just glad to have been able to say his final goodbyes. He was the one who buried you.

Obanai Iguro

He only had eyes for Mitsuri, so again you were left in the dust with your feelings. To be fair, you were his first friend when he joined the Hashiras, and you acted as a wingman whenever Obanai got worried about his chances with the Love Hashira.

Unfortunately for you, this obviously meant that he did not feel the same way about you. He loved you as a friend, and it broke your heart every single time he asked you for advice, but you sucked it up and dealt with it because that’s what friends do.

That was, until you were bedridden and coughing up petals. If you looked at the Snake Hashira, you wouldn’t know that he was worried. However, Kaburamaru was often laying upon your stomach trying to comfort you when it hurt the most (both physically and emotionally).

Obanai was by your bedside whenever he could be. You were his friend, as much as he was hesitant to admit it, and that meant he cared about you. He froze up whenever you started coughing and he grabbed the bucket to catch the petals.

Every time he had to wipe the blood from your lips, a nagging feeling of dread crawled through him. You were nearing your end. With your final breaths, you wished him well in him courting Mitsuri. What a fitting end, huh?

Muichiro Tokito

He is oblivious to everything, so if you thought he would notice how you follow him everywhere and go cloud-gazing with him every time he asks, you are sorely mistaken. But you just chalked it up to it being a little quirk of his rather than a blatant disinterest in you.

Now, when you first started coughing up petals, you tried to hide it as a common cold. However, no common cold had you bedridden for days on end, and even Muichiro noticed that his companion was usually gone.

When his master had informed him that you had a deadly (but not contagious) disease, he immediately went to visit you in your room at the Ubuyashiki residence. He snapped back to reality in 2 seconds flat as he saw how serious this was.

The Mist Hashira spends most of his time by your side. He tries his hardest to not zone out as he wants to grasp every single word you utter. For all he knew, you could be dying the next day and he wanted to make sure that he could pass your stories on.

What he thought would eventually come true. It came to a point where you couldn’t even speak without coughing. In your last moments, Muichiro made sure that you were as comfortable as could be given the circumstances. The anger he already harbored increased as you let out your final breath.

[burntheedges]

Maintenance Request: Chapter 13

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 9.3k

chapter summary: you (10:42 PM): going home with Joel 😳 a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕  chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, poetry (links at the bottom), cursing, we are earning that explicit rating today folks, pet names (honey, baby, gorgeous, darlin’, my smart girl, my pretty girl, my good girl, sweetheart, handsome, cowboy), smut: fondling, kissing, cuddling, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), mention of breasts (and fondling), grinding, p-in-v sex, creampie (reader is on birth control, but wrap it up IRL, folks)

Chapter 13

Friday, October 25 (still) Ninth week of the semester

The ride to Joel’s was full of tension, in the best possible way. His hand quickly found a home on your leg and his fingers wandered to the inside of your thigh over the course of the drive. You sent Beth his address, which he dictated dutifully when you asked, and tucked your phone back in your pocket before reaching out to hold his hand while you watched him drive.

At a stop light he looked over and met your gaze. He smirked. “See something you like, darlin’?”

You hummed. “Reckon I do, cowboy.” 

He squeezed your thigh. “Reckon I like the look of you in my truck, gorgeous.” You smiled. 

Joel didn’t live too far out of town, it turned out, and you realized he lived in the same suburb as you, just at different ends. 

“Not too far from me, then,” you observed. He nodded.

His house wasn’t huge, but clearly well-maintained. It looked homey and comfortable even from the outside. 

The landscaping, though, was amazing. You stared at it through the window of the truck.

“Holy crap, Joel.” You could hear the wonder in your voice. “Did you do all of that?”

There was some grass, but what drew your attention was the beautiful arrangement of trees and bushes curving from the front around the side of the house. And there were flowers everywhere. It looked wild and riotous, in a way, but also planned, like it had been encouraged to grow into its shape. You wished it wasn’t so dark out so you could take in the full effect. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed, and as your breath fogged up the window you realized you’d leaned in so close your forehead was almost touching it. You finally looked over at Joel and realized he was blushing.

“Er, yeah. That was me.” He cleared his throat. “Sarah helped, a bit. She’s not as into it as I am, but she knows her way around a garden.” While he pulled to a stop in the driveway you were jumping out of the truck almost before you realized it. You stepped on to the path of stones that led through the front yard with your mouth open in awe, looking around you at the plants that guided and formed the path. You stepped forward slowly, looking around you and taking it all in. Distracted, you barely noticed the sound of his footsteps as Joel came up behind you. His arms slid around your waist and his face found a home in the curve of your neck. You could feel the heat of his blush and raised one of your hands to tangle in his hair.

“Joel, this really is beautiful.” You were still breathless and could hear it. “I just— I’m amazed. It looks so…” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. 

You hesitated, and recited, “the bumblebees furrow the pursed and purple lips of false indigo for the dusty blush and I want to go make a hallelujah of my own simple body.”

He pulled back and spun you by your hips to face him. “Was that from a poem?” You smiled and nodded, a little sheepish. “I love it when you quote poetry to me, baby. God, you’re so fucking smart.” He sounded breathless himself. 

You grinned. “Does that do it for you, cowboy?”

He pulled you into a searing kiss, right there in his front yard.

“It really does, honey. I love watching you work. I love learning how you think.” You closed your eyes as he kissed your neck. “How do you always know the right poem for the moment? You’re breathtaking. You take my breath away.” He kissed you again. 

“Joel,” he hummed in response, kissing you. “Take me inside.” He nodded and kissed you again. “Joel.” 

He laughed and pulled back. “Alright, let’s get off the lawn.”

“I do want a garden tour, later. When I can see it.” 

He grinned. “Whenever you’d like, gorgeous. And just so you know, I don’t have any of those flowers that make you sneeze.” 

You blinked, stunned. “Really? None of them?” He nodded. Wow.

Joel took your hand again and the two of you walked towards his front door, and then through it into his front hall. Just as you’d thought from seeing the outside, the inside was welcoming and warm. You could see that it wasn’t messy, but he hadn’t really tidied — maybe he hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up or assume anything. Sarah’s soccer bag was by the front door, and a pile of shoes teetered by the front closet. As you stepped into the living room you noticed a blanket hastily thrown over the back of the couch. There were some books on the coffee table, as well as a pile of what looked like Sarah’s schoolwork.

The walls were deep, forest green, and the furnishings drew you in like a warm hug. As you peered into the kitchen, you noticed that other than some dishes in the sink, it was pretty neat. 

You realized Joel hadn’t followed you and turned to find him watching you explore. He looked worried, but like he was trying to hide it, despite running his hand through his hair and giving himself away.

“It’s lovely, Joel. It feels like—” you cut yourself off, but you could see he wanted to know what you thought. “It feels like a home.” 

He smiled and looked down, hand on the back of his neck. “That’s probably Sarah’s influence, not my doing.” You shook your head. 

“I don’t believe you. Not now that I know what you’re capable of, with that garden outside.” He smiled as you stepped closer to him.

“Do you want a drink, darlin’?” He placed his hands lightly on your hips and squeezed. You hummed and placed your hands on his chest in response. “I think,” you started, stepping closer to bring your chest in contact with his, sliding your hands around his neck, “that I don’t want a drink.”

He smirked. “No?”

You shook your head. “No. I think—” your mouth was so close to his, almost touching. “I think I’d like—” he leaned closer, but you turned your head so he kissed the corner of your mouth. “A tour.”

It took him a minute to respond. “A tour?”

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, and hid your smile. “You know, see the rest of your house.” You paused, drawing it out. “Maybe your bedroom.” 

You felt him grin against your cheek and he tightened his arms around you. “Oh baby, you only had to ask.” His voice was deep and you could feel it vibrating in your chest.

He spun you around so that you were facing the stairs and started to walk backwards. “Well, here you see the living room. That’s the kitchen,” he nodded in its direction. “The backyard has a bigger garden.” You perked up, but he pulled you in and kept you in front of him. “Later, gorgeous. We’ve got places to be.” 

You laughed. “Is “places” your bed?”

He grinned, unrepentantly. “See? My smart girl.” You reacted to that in a way you hadn’t expected, and you knew he could see it. You could almost feel your pulse pick up and your breath hitched. But you had something else on your mind. 

“Can I glance at the backyard, Joel?” 

He smiled. “Course you can, darlin’.” He changed directions and led you to the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen instead.

You stood at the door, and Joel turned on the back porch light to let you look. He was right, it was hard to see much outside, but you could tell even then that there were plants growing everywhere. You could see the path that led away from the porch and then split in different directions. Part of you wanted to go outside and explore it, right then, but Joel stepped up behind you and placed his hands on your waist. He kissed your neck and murmured, “I’ll show you everything tomorrow, darlin’. When we can see it.” You nodded and leaned back into him. He ran his lips softly along your jaw before pressing another kiss in front of your ear. In a low, warm voice, he asked, “can I kiss you, gorgeous?”

You smiled. “You are kissing me, Joel.” 

He squeezed your hips before turning you and stepping close. “I told you earlier, honey, I’ve been thinking about the way you kissed me in your office. I can’t stop thinking about it.” His right hand came up to touch your face. “The way it felt to have you pressed against me. The soft noises you made when I kissed you right.” He ran his thumb lightly across your lips. “The way you fit just right in my arms.” 

“Me too, Joel.” You closed your eyes and saw the moment again. Joel, between your legs as you perched on the desk, driving every thought right out of your mind with his touch. With his lips.

“So honey,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Can I kiss you again?” You opened your mouth to say yes, but the sound of the ‘y’ was barely out of your mouth before his lips met yours. 

You felt him everywhere. His hands held you in place, one at the back of your neck, one curving around to your back. The warmth of him pressed against you, so solid. His kiss grounded you and set you alight.

He started slow, but before long the passion you’d found against your desk returned. You opened your mouth and he took advantage, his tongue teasing along your bottom lip before sweeping inside.

You opened your legs and Joel stepped forward, reaching down to hitch one around his hips, which came forward and nestled right against yours. You sighed into the kiss, and he broke away to press kisses along your jaw and down your neck. “You feel perfect against me, honey,” he murmured, pulling your hips forward against his own. You felt the warm length of his cock through his jeans. “Like you were made to fit in my arms.” You brought your own up and around his neck and buried your hands in his hair, returning his kisses along the collar of his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about how you pressed me against my desk all week, Joel.” He hummed and tilted his head to give you better access. “Almost did let you get in my pants right there.” 

He laughed. “I would’a jumped at the chance, gorgeous. I know I already told you but, well, I’ve had a bit of a crush on you, you know.”

“Oh?” You smiled, and leaned back to rest your head against the glass door, meeting his gaze. His lips were adorably red and a bit swollen, his hair tousled and messy. You liked the look on him.

“Mm-hmm. Couldn’t take my eyes off you that first day, or any day since, if I’m bein’ honest.” He smiled ruefully. “You swept me off my feet, honey.” You bit your lip. He watched.

“In a way, you did the same to me, you know.” 

He shook his head. “Baby, we both know you didn’t like me—”

“No, Joel. Even if I was blaming you for whatever had gone wrong that day, I still couldn’t ignore you. I already told you you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t lying. And god, I was so mad that you were so hot. Especially after I poured coffee all over myself.” You laughed. “You sure do inspire strong emotions in me, handsome.” He grinned. 

“Well, baby, I sure am glad those emotions turned positive.”

“It didn’t take long, Joel. I was avoiding the truth.”

He shrugged. “We still got here.” He squeezed your hips. 

“Finally,” you teased. He kissed you in retaliation. 

“Speaking of here, Joel, when do I get the rest of my tour?” You pursed your lips against a smile and tried to look serious. He laughed.

“My apologies, darlin’, please follow me. I’ve saved the best for last.” You laughed too, knowing exactly where he was taking you. He guided you towards the stairs and you separated, finally, and followed him up, taking the chance to admire him from behind. It was a nice view. 

At the top of the stairs, Joel turned again and took your hand. He stood there and pointed at the doors down the hall, starting with the one at the far end. “That’s Sarah’s room, and her bathroom. That’s the guest room, but really it’s Tommy’s.” He pointed at the one in between Sarah’s and the door you were stopped next to. “And here we are,” he pulled you close and tucked you into his side as he opened that final door. “Last stop on the tour.” He used his grip on your hip to guide you in front of him, and you took in his bedroom.

Your first thought was that it was just like him. A bit messy, but warm. Inviting. Heavy wooden bed, nice furniture, decorations and furnishings that were clearly chosen with purpose — it all fit right into your mental image of Joel. He might not have tidied, but it did look like he’d made up the bed with clean sheets.

“Hmmm,” you let him wait for your answer. “I like it.” 

He huffed a laugh and buried his face in your neck again. “Well, ain’t that a relief.” You laughed, too. 

Joel stepped closer until he was flush against your back. You leaned into him, closing your eyes and sinking into his warmth and the feel of him. “Can I kiss you, darlin’?” His voice was playful as he asked you again for permission, and you quirked an eyebrow.

He started pressing kisses up your neck and you dropped your head to the right to give him better access. “Hmm, you are kissing me, Joel. You have been.”

He opened his mouth and ran his teeth down your neck before closing them and worrying a mark at the edge of your shoulder. You sighed and let him take your weight, leaning back into him fully. “Can I kiss you everywhere, baby?” As he asked, he slid his left hand down over your stomach until it rested right above your core. He flattened his hand and pressed down as he pressed another kiss below your ear. “Can I kiss you right here?” 

You felt suddenly like you were on fire. A sharp tingle ran up your spine and over your scalp as you gasped. Your hands moved without your conscious input until they were clutching at the arm he still had wrapped around your waist. You couldn’t find your words, but you opened your legs wider, and you felt him grin against your neck. 

“Oh, does my pretty girl like that?” A breathy, high pitched sigh escaped you as he started moving his hand lower. “Hmm, I think you like that. ” He kissed your neck as his hand moved down to cup your pussy lightly. “Which part is it that you like, baby? Is it that I think you’re pretty?” You did like that, but that wasn’t it and he could tell. “But you knew that already. Is it that I called you mine?” Your breath hitched again and you tilted your hips up to give him better access. He tightened his grip. “That’s my good girl.” You reacted before you consciously recognized his words, a soft moan slipping between your lips. You felt Joel grin into your neck.

“I gotta ask you again, baby. Can I kiss you? Right here?” He squeezed his left hand over your pussy and you sucked in a breath. “What was it you said outside… ‘make a hallelujah of my body.’ Let me do that for you, baby. Can I give you my mouth? Let me see how pretty you are when you come, honey. Can I?”

His words shook you into motion, and you nodded, finally. “Yes, Joel.” You couldn’t believe he remembered what you’d said. Your voice was breathy and you could hear your own arousal taking over. “Please.”

“Shh, honey, I got you.” he slid his hand back up to your hip, and you almost protested before he started to guide you forward. “I’ll give you everything you want.” He turned you and guided you down to sit on the edge of his bed before kneeling in front of you. Your eyes tracked him the whole way down. 

Joel placed his hands on your knees and you watched as he slowly slid them up your thighs, skirting around where you wanted them most before coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. You sighed and he pulled lightly on the waistband before undoing the button, urging you to move your hips forward towards the edge of the bed. He murmured, “c’mere, honey.” His voice was somehow even deeper than before, rumbling gently over you. Your eyes fluttered shut.

He tugged your pants down gently, taking your underwear with them. You fought the urge to close your legs against his scrutiny, but as quick as they were gone his hands returned and held your thighs apart. You opened your eyes, not wanting to miss a minute of him between your knees.

“Let me see that pretty pussy, honey. Been dying to set my eyes on every inch of you. Was torture, feeling how warm and wet you were even through your pants, back at the bar.” His words made your cheeks burn, but you stopped yourself from pulling away and opened your thighs, letting them fall to either side. His eyes immediately locked on what you revealed to him. He quirked that half smile that had caught your eye from the very beginning. 

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, and scooted closer. He leaned forward, and you felt his breath against your inner thighs. It made you shiver. “I can’t wait to taste you, honey. I know you’re going to be sweet.” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. Your breath hitched. “And juicy.” He grinned. 

You laughed. “Been wet down there for a while, I know you know that.”

“Well, darlin’, don’t leave me hanging. How long is a while?” He brought one of his hands forward and teased lightly along your slit with his fingers. You squirmed.

“Since, ah,” you sighed as he pressed a kiss right above your pussy. “Since you kissed me in my kitchen. And then, well, you kept touching me. And dancing, and then on your lap—” You cut yourself off.

He caught your eye again, and his eyes were dark. “Baby, you been wet all night? Just like this?” You nodded, biting your lip. “Should’a told me. I’m not the kind of man that leaves a woman waiting.” He splayed his hands on your hips and moved his thumbs down to rest gently on each of your lips. 

You sucked in a breath. “Oh?”

Joel nodded, and grinned. His expression was all lust and mischief. “Goes against my principles.” You laughed. He was cute like this, talkative and dirty. You had no idea he’d be so talkative in bed, but you loved it. 

He pressed down with each thumb and opened your pussy to his gaze. Suddenly you were overwhelmed – sitting there, legs splayed open to him, with his thumbs spreading your pussy wide was so much. It was heady and the air roiled around you, thick with arousal. It almost made your eyes roll back in your head. 

“Joel--“ you started, but he didn’t let you finish.

“You just sit back and let me take care of you, honey.” He leaned close and you could feel his breath against your entrance. “You’re all messy down here. Be a good girl for me and let me clean you up, alright?” You moaned and fell back on the bed as his mouth finally made contact where you wanted it the most.

You’d been trembling since his thumbs had opened you up to him. You felt his hot breath first, and then his tongue, pressed firmly against you as he licked you in a stripe up your pussy, ending at your clit. You gasped and clenched the comforter in your fists. He held you firmly in place as you squirmed, hands pressing on your hips and holding you open. Before you could catch your breath he did it again, the flat of his tongue lapping at you from your entrance. His mouth reached your clit again and he teased the tip of his tongue in a circle around it. The sensation sent vibrations through you as you thrust your hips towards his face.

He hummed into you. “You taste so good, honey.” His voice was low, almost a growl. “Don’t know how I’ll ever get enough.” He started circling your clit lightly with his tongue and you heard a high-pitched whine erupt from you. He chuckled darkly without moving his mouth away from you. 

You felt like you’d had the wind knocked out of you at the first touch of his tongue. You felt exposed, but somehow in a good way. You looked down and watched his head bobbing as he worked you over, your whole body shaking in response. 

His eyes were closed and the look on his face was pure bliss.

“Oh my god, Joel, I—” You gasped as he moved down to tease your entrance with his tongue. “Fuck.” He pressed lightly around it in circles before pressing down with just the tip. You held your breath and you swore you could feel him smile as he pressed it inside you. You let out something that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Joel’s tongue pushed all the way inside you and he closed his mouth over your hole and kissed you, just like he’d promised. His mouth felt just as amazing there as it did everywhere else. He sucked lightly and your muscles loosened like they were jelly. You felt waves of pure pleasure crash over you, tingling over your scalp and down your back in time with the thrusts of his tongue. He curved his tongue upwards and hummed and you almost clenched your knees around his head, pure reflex — you would have, if his hands weren’t still pinning you in place. Right where he wanted you.

He moved his hands for the first time and his left came over your hips, his forearm like a bar holding you down. His right moved down and you shook with the knowledge of its destination. His tongue slipped from you slowly, and you almost protested, but before you could, his tongue moved smoothly back up to your clit and his fingers took its place. You felt him touch you in two places — his tongue, lightly curling around your clit before pressing down with delicious pressure, and his finger, rubbing lightly at your entrance, teasing around it in a circle. You heaved in a breath as you forced yourself to let go of the comforter with your right hand. It had almost cramped, and you shook it out, laughing at yourself. Hand now free, you ran your fingers through his hair. He hummed and tilted his head — you took the invitation and clutched at his hair tightly.

Joel’s mouth broke you apart expertly. His tongue played your clit like he knew exactly what you liked. His finger teased at your entrance before pushing in slowly, so slowly you couldn’t help but feel every single millimeter. He curled it upwards and touched a part of you that sent sensations radiating up your torso and down your legs, little lightning strikes that took what remained of your breath away. You could hardly focus on anything but the pleasure that was building steadily all through your body, pooling in your hips and spreading upwards until you were breathing it in. 

Joel slid his finger out but quickly replaced it with two. The stretch was delicious. In some distant, still lucid part of your brain, you wondered how big his cock would feel if his fingers felt like this. When he curled the two of them together your back arched off the bed as you moaned, but he held you firmly in place with his forearm across your hips. His mouth didn’t move back even an inch. 

You felt like you were slipping downwards into the heat of his mouth and the steady thrusts of his fingers, suddenly teetering on the precipice, ready to fall apart. “Joel, I—” you gasped in a breath. “I’m close, Joel, fuck—” He pressed closer, tongue pressing firmly on your clit, lips closing around it to lightly suck. At the same time his fingers thrust inside you and curled right into the spot that felt like heaven, like he was pressed against the deepest part of you, reaching inside of you and touching every part of you. And you fell over the edge.

It felt like falling. Like you slipped from a great height, a swooping sensation low in your stomach. Your body curved upwards even as you felt heavy, suddenly dizzy as you spun in place. It came over you like lightning, like electricity running from the tip of your head to the bottom of your feet, like it was scouring your veins and leaving nothing but pleasure behind. 

You heard yourself breathing heavily like you’d just run a marathon. You felt emptied, empty of everything but pleasure and heat and the feel of Joel’s mouth, open against your clit. He worked you through it, tonguing at you lightly, guiding you back to yourself from the heights he’d expertly ushered you towards only moments before. 

You were stunned. You couldn’t move your arms or legs, could only breathe, your chest heaving. Your eyes were wide and staring up at the ceiling. It distantly occurred to you that the feeling was becoming too much. “J—” you tried, and failed. You sucked in a breath and tried again. “Joel, sto—” somehow, he got the message and lifted his face from you. His fingers stilled. 

He was breathing heavily too, you could feel it against your thighs. You took a deep breath and lifted your head to look for him.

He was waiting for you. Joel’s eyes met yours and you couldn’t look away. He looked wrecked. His face was red and he was absolutely covered in you. You could see it, glistening on his skin. 

He was smiling.

“You’re so beautiful when you come, baby.” His voice was breathless, but still deep. You realized idly that you were still wearing your top and you almost couldn’t believe it. You felt like he’d stripped you bare and turned the whole of you inside out with his mouth. And he was somehow still fully clothed himself. “Can’t believe how good it felt, the way you came apart on my tongue.” He licked his bottom lip and you watched, tracking it. He brought one of his hands up to his face and wiped down his cheeks, thumb on one side and fingers on the other. He was still a mess, after, but he looked down at his hand and then met your eyes again and smirked. He brought it up to his mouth and licked, slowly cleaning up what you’d left behind. 

Your mouth fell open, watching him. You felt your arousal building again. Your legs twitched.

When he was finished you looked back up to meet his eyes and found him watching you watch him. His eyes were dark and intent.

“That’s one, baby.” 

You blinked, taking in his words. “One?” You felt like you could barely think, still reeling from the power of the orgasm he pulled from you and the sight of him reveling in it afterwards.

“That’s right,” he answered, finally leaning back and sitting on his heels. He winked at you. “You think I could be happy with just one, after seeing the way you just fell apart for me? No,” he chuckled, and rose slowly to his feet. It felt obscene, having him standing over you fully clothed while you laid there, legs splayed open for him, chest heaving. More obscene than anything else you’d done tonight, and he wasn’t even touching you. “One just isn’t enough. I need to see it again. Need to watch. Been thinking about it, imagining it.” He started undoing the buttons of his shirt and you finally gathered the strength to sit up, your hands flying forward to stop him. You met his eyes as you pushed his hands out of the way to take over and undo his buttons yourself. He nodded and you held his gaze as you undid the last button. He shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor behind him. “I need to see it up close, honey.”

Your hands came to rest lightly on his chest and your eyes followed. Joel might call you gorgeous, but looking at him took your breath away. He was strong, built, even if not overly defined. You could see the strength in his body, in his arms, strength that was earned from his job and from being a dad. You wanted him to touch you again. Right as you thought it, like he could see inside your mind, his right hand came up and lifted your chin. You could feel the lingering moisture from being inside you on his fingers.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He smiled at you. “Think you should take off that shirt, baby.” You smiled back. 

“Only if you take off these pants.” You slid your hand down to press against the front of his jeans. Joel’s hips stuttered forward at your touch and you grinned. He took a step back, letting his hand fall away toward his own waist band. He nodded at your shirt and you raised your hands, too. You slid your shirt upwards at the same moment he unbuttoned his pants, revealing his cock to your eyes for the first time. It stood hard and proud against his stomach. It was big. You felt your eyes widen at the sight, and you reached a hand out without thinking. He stepped forward to meet it.

You didn’t put your hand around him, but rather ran your fingertips down the length of his cock, from tip to root. He grabbed your wrist and held your hand still, grunting. Your eyes flew back up to meet his own and you suddenly realized you were panting, mouth dropped open.

“Not yet, baby.” Joel took a deep breath. “Will you let me give you another one? I want to watch you come again, gorgeous, want to see it up close this time.” He eased you back onto the bed and slowly crawled over you, until he was hovering above you, hands next to your head. When he paused there you realized he was waiting for your answer. You smiled.

“You’d better.” 

He laughed. “Oh yeah? Is that how it is?” You grinned and nodded. He eyed you, eyes dark with desire. “M’gonna wipe that grin off your face, beautiful. I’m gonna make you come so hard you can’t say anything but my name, can only feel me inside you. Nothing else.” You licked your bottom lip, his words holding you in place under his gaze. “Gotta watch it on your face this time.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, almost gentle. “Wanna see it in your eyes. Can you keep ‘em open for me, honey? Be my good girl, let me see you?” You nodded, speechless, and he grinned. “Yeah, of course you can. I knew you’d be so good for me.” 

Joel finally brought his mouth down again and this time it wasn’t gentle. His tongue swept inside and tangled with yours, and your hands flew up to tangle in his hair, to hold him there. You could taste yourself on his tongue; you whimpered into his mouth. He licked the sound from you and claimed it as his own.

You were already spinning in circles, dazed by his kiss, when he lifted his right hand and started to tease his fingers down your collarbone. The gentle sensation contrasted amazingly with the hungry way he devoured your mouth and you squirmed. He sank his teeth into your bottom lip before pulling away to press hot kisses down your cheek to your neck, where he worried another mark with his teeth. 

“You know, darlin’,” he murmured into your neck, voice deep. “I didn’t get a chance to say how much I like, no, love your tits.” He slid his right hand down to cup your right breast and you pushed your chest into his hand. He smiled against your neck. “Jesus, you’re perfect. Perfect pussy, perfect tits, perfect orgasm, perfect everything.” He kissed you again. “Don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this. How could I, hmm?” He bit down on your shoulder and you moaned. “’S impossible. Sweet as honey, you know. Sweet, and gorgeous, and sexy, and so fucking smart,” he left a trail of soft kisses down your chest as he praised you and your head was spinning with it. He pressed his forehead to your chest, mouth resting right against your breast as he spoke. “My good girl.” You trembled, chest heaving. Almost broken apart again just by his voice, his words. “So fucking good for me.”

Joel pressed his lips to your breast and then moved his mouth to your nipple. He teased it with his tongue. “Mm, Joel—” you wanted to try to return his words, to tell him how you felt the same way. He was so much, he was everything. “I—” your breath hitched again as he worried your nipple with his teeth. “You—” you couldn’t get a sentence out. Couldn’t put it together to begin with. You sighed. 

“I’ve never felt like this before, Joel.” Your voice was breathy but strong. Joel picked his head up to look at you again and you reached out to cup his cheek. “You’re so… Joel. No one has ever made me feel this good. I feel— You’re—” you bit your lip. You felt dangerously close to saying something it was way too early to say, even as you felt yourself falling towards it. You lightened your tone. “You’ll never get rid of me now.” You smiled, but his face was serious.

“Baby, I’d never want to. I want you here,” he pressed his hand into your chest. “Right here. Under me, over me, with me—” he cut himself off and took a deep breath. “I want you right where you are, honey.” You wondered if you were both holding back from saying anything that was too much, too soon for your first date. Your first date, you reminded yourself sternly. You were feeling a lot for this man, sure, but you knew you had time to get where you were headed. You had time. You smiled, and cupped his face in both hands. 

“Under you, huh?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

You focused and moved your hands to tangle your fingers in his hair, guiding his mouth back to your chest. “Under him” had reminded you, and your voice was breathy as you recited,

"i like my body when it is with your body.  It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body.  i like what it does, i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss,"  

Your breath hitched on the word “kiss”, interrupting you, as Joel suddenly dropped his forehead to rest against your sternum. He cursed, voice low. “Fuck.” You could see and feel him trembling. You gathered yourself and continued,

"i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh… And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new..."

You trailed off as Joel cursed again. “Fuck, baby. That’s a poem?” You grinned.

“It is.” You felt yourself breathing a bit hard, like you’d just sprinted towards him. “Did you like it?”

Joel finally lifted his head and you saw that he was wrecked. His pupils were huge, his hair everywhere from tangling between your fingers. He was breathing hard and fast. “Did I like it?” he asked, voice absolutely incredulous. He surged forward to capture your mouth in a searing kiss. 

By the time he released you every thought had fled your mind, and all you knew was his mouth on yours. “Baby, I can’t believe how goddamn lucky I am. Shit.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I do like kissing this and that of you,” he repeated your words back to you, voice deep. “I do like the thrill of you, right here.” He pressed a quick kiss to your sternum, right in between your breasts.

You reached out to cup his face in your hands again. “You have me Joel. Now, I believe you promised me something.” 

He grinned. “That I did, gorgeous.” He turned his face to kiss both of your palms one after another, before ducking back down to pick up right where he left off. He licked at your left nipple and tweaked the other with his right thumb. You smiled, sinking back into the tide of pleasure he drew over you so easily, so expertly. 

As his tongue continued to work, he leaned to the left and slipped his right hand down your chest. His fingertips played over your breast and your stomach and your hip, coming to rest right above where he’d kissed you only moments ago. You twisted both hands in his hair. “Yes, Joel.” You urged him onward, spreading your legs to give him better access. You felt him smile against your chest.

His fingertips moved lower, brushing against your slit gently. “How are we feeling down here, honey? Sensitive?” He pressed his fingertips lightly between your folds, gently touching your clit. 

You were a little sensitive, sure, but not in a bad way. You told him so. “Feels good, Joel.” 

He hummed. “Feels wet, honey. Is this pussy always like this?” He swiped his finger gently from your clit to your entrance, and you felt the glide of how wet you were. 

You shook your head. “’S just for you, Joel.” You breathed it, almost whispered it, and he pressed a kiss to your right breast in response. 

“Well, I do like the sound of that.” He used two fingers to press more firmly against your entrance. “I like your body, ‘n what it does.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he repeated the line back to you. He kissed his way back up your torso as he slowly pressed in with his fingers, but stopped with just the tips inside of you, just past your entrance. He pressed his mouth to your neck again. “So responsive, so good. All for me.” He nipped at your jaw as he pressed his fingers just a bit further inside, teasing you. You squirmed, trying to thrust forward on them, but he held them in place.

“How wet do you think we can get you, honey?” He pressed in further, but then withdrew again so just the tips were inside again. You protested, wordlessly. He soothed you with a kiss to your cheek. “I want you to soak my cock. I want you so wet that when I slip inside it’s smooth like silk.” You gasped as his fingers slid inside you again, further this time, but he withdrew them again. He was teasing you and holding you right at the edge, not quite letting you relax into it. It was just on the right side of too much. “So beautiful, baby, the way you want these fingers inside of you. Is this what you need, honey?” You nodded as he slipped the two fingers back inside of you. He stayed there, this time, and curled them upwards. You gasped. “Yeah, you need it. Need these fingers to open you up, hmm? Need to get you ready to take this cock.” He thrust his hips against your leg, and you felt it, warm and heavy and ready for you. 

“I need it,” you agreed, voice thin. He withdrew his fingers again and you started to say no, stop, wait, anything, but before you could even shape your mouth around the words he plunged them back into you, deep. So fucking deep, it felt perfect. His fingers filled you again and you imagined how his cock would feel and you moaned. 

“That’s right, honey.” You opened your eyes to find him watching you, intent. “You’re taking my fingers so well, so easy. Like every part of me was meant to be inside you.” He kissed you, quick. “My tongue, my fingers. My cock.” He twisted his fingers inside you, starting to thrust, ending each one with a curl, touching that spot that you felt echo through your body like a lightning bolt. “I want to make you feel so good, honey. Want to be inside of you, want to touch you everywhere. Want my mouth on every inch of you.” He brought his thumb to your clit, pressing gently in small circles in time with his thrusts and the combination brought your impending orgasm much closer, suddenly, much higher. Suddenly desperate, you reached up to bring his mouth to yours. His wicked mouth, with these words that were causing every thought to fall right out of your head.

Joel took his cue from you and captured your mouth as his hand worked you higher and higher. You felt seconds away from another precipice and it almost took you by surprise when you launched over it, thrown into an orgasm in the palm of his hand. It washed over you, sinking you beneath its waves, drawing you under into a brief oblivion. You blinked and realized Joel was speaking lowly into your ear, “—at’s it, honey, just beautiful. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous when you come. So perfect. So good for me, honey. So fucking good. Can’t wait to sink my cock inside you, to feel how warm and wet and perfect you are inside. Don’t know how I go so lucky, but I’m going to make you feel so fucking good. Gonna be so good to you, sweetheart.”

As you caught your breath, chest heaving, you breathed, “you’re pretty good at this, cowboy.” 

He met your eye and raised an eyebrow. “Cowboy, huh? Is that the one” 

You shrugged. “Yeah. D’you like it?”

“Like it?” The grin that took over his mouth was slow and beautiful. “Honey, I want you to call me whatever you want.” He cupped your face in his hand, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. “But I don’t just like it. I love it.”

You grinned back at him, turning to nip at his thumb, and he laughed. “Ok, cowboy.” He thrust his hips down and you felt his cock, still hard, as it pushed against your hip. “About time we took care of you, now, yeah?” You kissed his palm and met his eye. He smiled.

“You think I ain’t been enjoying myself? Almost came, watching you fall apart on my fingers, you know.” You smiled back at him. “Been thinking about this, since that time in your office. How good it would feel to have you under me. Been dreaming about this pussy.” You gasped as he shifted his hips to the right and nudged lightly at your slit with his cock.

“M— me, too, Joel,” you sighed. “Your cock felt so good against me in my office, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanting it.”

“Sweetheart, you can have this cock whenever you want. It’s yours.” He thrust against you again, and the head of his cock brushed up your slit again, not quite nudging inside. You moaned. “Nowhere else it wants to be, except inside you. Shit.” He muttered the last word as the tip of his cock breached your folds, tapping lightly against your clit. Your mouth fell open and you tried to open your legs for him, but he was straddling you, keeping you from giving him any more room. “Shit, honey, you feel that?” He nudged forward, and the head of his cock nudged against your clit again. You keened. “Yeah, you do. Fuck.” He moved his hips lightly back and forth, barely any distance at all, but it felt like more as the hard head of his cock pressed repeatedly against your clit. You were so sensitive, but he was being so careful, so soft. “How is this already so fucking good?” He whispered the question, but you felt it too.

He hovered there for what felt like hours. It was working you up, this slow, soft touch, this barely there connection. His warm cock, not even all the way inside your folds, not even inside you, just nudging you, stoking your fire. “Shit,” you breathed. “Joel, I—” you opened your eyes, not realizing you’d closed them, to find him holding himself up with his face right above yours. Your mouth was hanging open.

“Mmm, honey,” he answered, watching you. “You look gorgeous like this.” He nudged forward again, and you sighed. “Can’t believe how good you feel under me, how pretty you are, how amazing—” he thrust forward again and you both moaned. You were panting. “I think we need to get a condom, baby, before we get carried away.” He winked at you as he said it and you managed a laugh. 

“I’m on birth control, Joel.” His hips stuttered forward. 

“Shit, you mean—” you nodded and he froze, before pressing down to kiss you deeply. The head of his cock rested against your clit and was squeezed between you as his weight bore down. You opened your mouth and he licked inside, frantic. “Fuck, yes, ok. Fuck. It’s been… well, ages since I've had any sex, darlin’, and even longer since I had it bare.”

You shivered. “Me too, Joel.” He nodded and lifted himself back up.

You bit your lip, looking up at him. He watched, tracing your lips with his thumb, eyes traveling over your face. He opened his mouth to say something (something absolutely devastatingly hot, if recent evidence was any guide), but you didn’t let him say it. You shoved, suddenly, at his chest, and the surprised look on his face made you grin. You followed through and pushed him over, turning him so you landed on top, straddling his hips this time. He froze for a moment, lying on his back, stunned. You were looking down at him, grinning triumphantly, and so you watched his face change from shock to viciously turned on. “You’re so fucking hot, honey, fuck.” 

He reached out to grasp your hips and squeezed, pulling you down to sit firmly on top of him. He pulled you down right on his cock, and you threw your head back. “Mmm, Joel,” you murmured as your pussy slid right over his hard cock. 

“Yeah? Feel good, baby?” He urged your hips forward and back, sliding you over his length. “You feel amazing on my cock, just like I knew you would. So warm and soft and wet.” He sighed and thrust his hips upwards. “You want to sit on it, honey? Take me inside? Let me open you up? Let me fill you up with this cock? Gonna fit so nice in there, honey, so tight. A perfect fit.” His words were washing over you again, so heady, so dirty. 

You didn’t know if you’d have pegged Joel as a dirty talker before this date but fuck, you couldn’t imagine him any other way, now. He was so fucking good at it.

“Yes, Joel,” you breathed. “Please, I wanna sit on it.”

He smiled at you and squeezed your hips as he tugged you down again. You felt his cock slide deeper against you, head nudging at your clit like it had been just a moment before, only now his entire length nestled right inside your folds. It was perfect. “Shh, honey, I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

He urged your hips upwards with his hands, and you followed, lifting yourself up. You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock move down through your folds, almost where you wanted it. You looked down and met his eyes again. His mouth was open, watching you, as he shifted your hips forward just a bit. It was just enough to align his cock perfectly as it slid lower and lower until it notched, like a key into a lock, right at your entrance. Your breath caught. 

“Look at you,” Joel murmured. He held you up, right over his cock, about to sink down. “So fucking gorgeous.” He loosened his grip suddenly and your hips slid down before you could catch yourself, sliding the tip of his cock just inside of you. You released your breath on a sigh. “Fuck”, the word erupted from him. “Goddamn, honey. You’re pressing on me so tight,” his tongue slid along his lower lip as he loosened his grip again, letting you slip down just a little further. The head of his cock suddenly fully inside of you, so wide, so hot, it made your head spin.

“Joel—”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Let me in. Open up for me, baby, just like that. Fuck.” And inch by inch, that’s what you did — your legs were trembling, and his hands held you up and let you slide down, bit by bit, splitting you open, until your pussy came flush with his pelvis. “Shit, you’re taking me so well, honey.” You sat there, chest heaving, feeling every inch of him inside of you, warm and hard and just fucking right. You’d never felt so full in your goddamn life. “Good fucking girl, sitting on this cock. Look so pretty up there. So sexy.” You smiled, and shifted your hips just slightly. You both moaned. “Can’t believe how good your cunt feels, honey. Like it was made for this cock.” You hummed at the idea. You liked it.

You slid your hands forward on Joel’s chest until they were resting under his collarbones, and used the leverage to lift your hips, just a bit. Your mouth fell open at the feeling and your eyes locked with his. “Fuck yeah, baby, take what you want.” He watched as you did just that, lifting yourself up until just the head of his cock was inside you, and then sinking back down to take him fully. You stopped for just a moment, looking at each other, before your breath hitched and you did it again. And again. And again. 

Joel groaned, and released the grip of his right hand on your hip to move it to the back of your neck. “C’mere, gorgeous,” he muttered, pulling you down into a searing kiss. You gasped into it, and he took the opportunity to sink his tongue into your mouth again. His left hand urged you to keep up the movement of your hips, drawing his cock in and out of you. Your legs shook and felt like jelly, though, and suddenly you sank against his chest. “Mm, tired, honey?” You laughed, and buried your face in his neck. He rubbed his hands up and down your back. “Why don’t you let me take over from here?”

With no other warning, Joel flipped you, cock sliding out of you as he arranged you underneath him, and then immediately sliding back inside of you as he held your legs open. You gasped. “Shit,” he whispered, “that’s it.” Joel started to roll his hips, thrusting his cock inside of you, and you sank your hands into his hair as you pulled him back into a kiss. He reached down and tilted your hips upwards, and the new angle had his cock hitting something deep inside you that made you whine in response.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it.” He repeated, striking a rhythm that sent you spiraling, moaning his name. “Give me one more. That’s my good girl, yeah? Give me one more.” You shook your head, not sure you could, even though his cock felt so good inside of you, but he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I know you can do it, sweetheart. My good girl can do it, can’t she? So good for me, honey.” His pace was relentless, working you over, and then he reached his right hand down in between you to gently rub at your clit, matching the same rhythm as his thrusts. 

You sobbed out your next breath, and he pressed gentle kisses across your cheek.

“That’s right, my gorgeous girl, you can do it. Let me have it. Let me see it again.” He breathed his praises into your neck and the competing sensations of the softness with his mouth and the absolutely devastating way he was fucking you overwhelmed your senses. “C’mon. Do it for me.” 

And you did – one more time, one more orgasm ripped through your senses and crashed into you. You sobbed his name, one single, resounding, “Joel,” as you came. He groaned, and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His rhythm picked up, and you knew he was close. “So fucking beautiful when you come, fuck. You feel so fucking perfect. So hot so tight so wet I’m gonna— shit, I’m gonna—” And it was your turn to watch him come, to watch the pleasure wash over him as he emptied inside of you. His face was beautiful as his mouth formed the shape of your name, whispering it reverently as he came. You blinked, watching it, unable to look away.

Joel’s hips stilled, and his forehead came down slowly to rest against your own. You were both breathing heavily, chests touching every time you breathed in, nipples brushing against his chest sending daggers of sensation through you. You were exhausted, and spent, and worn out, and happier than you could remember being in a long time. You could feel him everywhere, feel the joy everywhere, down to your toes. 

Joel breathed deeply and then murmured, low and sweet, “honey, you are so fucking amazing.” He kissed your cheek. “Can’t believe I caught your eye, somehow. Can’t believe you’re here with me.” 

You smiled, but laughed. “Can’t believe it?” You tilted your hips a bit and you both gasped at the sensation of him moving inside of you, no longer hard but still very much present.

He chuckled. “‘M trying to say sweet things to you, you little troublemaker.” You hummed. “Trying to tell you that’s the best night I’ve ever had, no contest. To tell you I can’t wait to take you on another date, and ten more after that. A hundred.” He kissed you right at the corner of your eye, and then on your nose, which made you laugh again. “To beg you to stay the night, because all I want is to hold you in my arms as long as I can.” 

You cleared your throat, overwhelmed. “Those are, um, those are pretty sweet things, Joel.” He pressed his smile into your cheek again. You wanted to reciprocate but he had fucked all of your thoughts right out of your head, so you settled for agreement. “I’m not going anywhere, cowboy. You’ll have to kick me out.” He grinned and pressed another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

…

you (1:17 AM): staying the night 😇

bestie (1:18 AM): !!! (1:18 AM): text me when you wake up or else (1:18 AM): and tell me all about it tomorrow (1:19 AM): and by it I mean 🍆

you (1:19 AM): i will 🙄

...

a/n: see you next Friday 🥰 Poems quoted in this chapter:

From Ross Gay’s Spring section of “Letters from Two Gardens”: https://orionmagazine.org/article/letters-from-two-gardens/ From e. e. cummings: https://allpoetry.com/i-like-my-body-when-it-is-with-your

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Reader being spared by an Alternate and straight up letting them stay in your home, perhaps?

"...oh who am I kidding? It's pointless..nobody's gonna pick up..."

Holding the phone with one slightly trembling hand, you strongly considered dialing the number for the police department, hoping someone could come and get rid of the Alternate hanging around your house.

Yet you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

Of course, you knew that stupid "THINK" principle broadcasted throughout Mandela County was a lie. All of it was. It didn't stop the casualties from drastically rising. Nor did it stop the population from falling as people either moved out, died, or went missing.

As of right now, you were in none of those groups, and you prayed that by the end of tonight you'll be able to keep it that way.

Instead you chose to stick it out and protect your home, refusing to let some demonic presence ruin the life and memories you've built here.

You've seen sci-fi films on how mankind rallied together to combat the alien threat and save the world growing up, but sadly...that's all it ever was: fiction.

What was happening in Mandela County right now was reality. Nobody was coming to help...and the "plan" to combat this threat was only made-up to stop the public from freaking out.

All you could do was learn how to survive on your own.

So that's exactly what you were doing, as you put the phone down and checked your computer. It was hooked up to the few hidden cameras around your house, which you've installed long before the invasion ever began.

However, you started wondering if these devices that once gave you peace of mind could possibly be the death of you....considering Alternates can tap into electronics and torment their victims that way.

Rather than shut them off, though, you realized that this one in particular didn't seem...all-that-concerned with hunting you down at the moment.

If anything, it seemed almost confused. As if it stumbled into the wrong house.

As you observed the creature's movements, you saw it walking around the living room, gazing at photo frames featuring yourself and your family.

Despite the video's shitty quality, you could see it was in a purely black form--a shadowy figure with white eyes that never blinked. But the fact that its neck remained very elongated was the most unnerving detail.

Aside from that, it didn't seem to be aware of your cameras, which meant you hid them exceptionally well.

However a minute later, the Alternate suddenly began shuffling down the hallway that led directly to your room, causing panic to seize your body. You got chills as you watched it blend in with the darkness, essentially becoming one with it.

You held your breath and quickly killed the program, shutting off the computer before sneaking over to your bed. There, you hid under the covers and hoped that it didn't realize you were home.

You'd pray for protection, but...the officials advised not to turn to prayers, as the Alternates were known to wage heavy psychological warfare against folks with religious connections.

Then again you weren't sure who to trust anymore..

Regardless, this internal debate didn't last long as you heard light knocking on the door, nearly jumping out of your skin upon hearing a voice that was--and yet wasn't--your own coming from the other side.

"Nobody's gonna pick uppppp....."

Your blood ran cold.

'Fuck, fuck...it heard me..it knows I'm here...'

Every part of you was trembling as you laid there, wishing you didn't have to deal with this all on your own.

About an hour passed before you heard the knock again, as well as light scratching sounds against the closed door. You didn't realize you almost fell asleep...considering how exhausted you were.

Didn't help matters when you noticed it was 2 AM.

'Damn, I'm in for a long night...' Throwing the covers off, you sat up and glared at the door as the knob began to clatter and shake, sighing in annoyance.

How long was it going to keep playing this game?

If it wanted to kill you so badly, why didn't it just get it over with? Did it have some other plan for you?

You'd snap at it to leave you alone, but...that's probably a bad decision that'll drop your chances of survival to zero.

Maybe it's best that you don't acknowledge it.

After a few minutes, it stopped jiggling the doorknob around, although you tensed upon hearing some sort of sad groaning noise coming from the creature.

'The hell? It sounds like a kicked puppy-'

Wait...

Why were you thinking that?

It's only mimicking what a human in pain or sadness would sound like. There's no way in hell you were falling for that bullshit.

But it apparently thought otherwise as it continued whining; and you grew more and more irritated, wishing it would just shut up and go away already.

It continued for about five minutes straight, before falling silent.

And then...ten minutes passed without another sound coming from it, leading you to suspect that it finally gave up.

For a moment, you smiled in relief, thinking it was all over--

Until your computer screen somehow flickered to life and showed you the Alternate itself, looking just as it did on the cameras....wearing the same clothes you had on right now.

Your eyes widened in horror, heart sinking into the pit of your stomach.

"What the-?"

It began typing, words appearing on the bottom of the screen. Despite every part of you screaming to ignore it, you were drawn to the computer, slowly getting up out of bed and walking over to it so you could see the message more clearly:

BE NOT AFRAID

Then the screen switched off.

And you heard a hushed whisper over your shoulder.

"Sorry...it was the only way I could reassure you..."

Gasping lightly, you spun around and finally saw the Alternate face-to-face, with its neck straining to gaze down at you, white eyes staring into your very soul.

Yep..your chances of surviving this were basically in the negative.

But rather than immediately shriek in terror and brace for death, you stood in silent bewilderment, realizing that it actually spoke in its own voice, rather than yours. And it didn't sound malevolent at all despite its threatening form.

Not to mention, it...told you not to be afraid of it. Why is that?

'Well..guess there's no use in ignoring it now..'

"R-Reassure me...of what?" You hesitantly asked, palms sweating as you clasped your hands together.

Its gaze seemed to soften as it spoke something that changed your whole perception of it:

"I don't follow the flock."

It simply didn't have that drive in it.

Seeing your confusion, the Alternate elaborated, explaining that it had a "change of heart" shortly after its creation.

For reasons unknown even to itself, it refused to kill or masquerade as any human victim like the rest of its kin.

Because of this, it felt deeply flawed and became scared, afraid of what its maker would think as "he never made mistakes". So it searched for a place to hide, realized this was your home, and....ultimately chose to spare you, refusing to follow "his" doctrine.

In exchange for refuge, it promised you protection from the other Alternates should they intrude, allowing you to live your life (or at least as safely as you could in this county) and shelter you from symptoms of MAD.

While you were hesitant at first, you wanted to believe this Alternate was being genuine with you.

So you allowed it to stay under your roof under two conditions: No sabotaging your tech except in emergencies, and no mimicking any of your friends or family members. If either rule was broken, you'll report them immediately.

As for its mimicry, beyond whatever clothes you wore on any given day..it didn't try to copy your appearance or voice it all. It admitted to liking your taste in fashion, asking you more about it.

Surprisingly, it complied with them both right away, becoming your "guardian" of sorts ever since and keeping their word.

Somehow you've found yourself being able to sleep better at night, seeing the shadow in the corner of the room as more of a comforting presence than a threatening one.

It's not like you can just say "no" to a demonic shapeshifter. That's just plain rude.

In the end, you found the most unlikely friend in this hellhole that was Mandela County:

A pacifist Alternate.

Ironic as it was, you're just relieved somebody out there heard your silent prayers.

[genderkoolaid]

is it weird to feel like i was still treated/classed as a faggot before even knowing i was a boy (i'm transmasc)? i was never called a dyke or derisively called a lesbian or any of that. but i was a tomboy, always was. and i was always heavily derided for crying or "being a crybaby," derided by boy and tomboy friends if i ever liked any Girly Things with comments like "that's so gay (derogatory)", and being masculine but still interested in boys was regarded as this weird and disgusting thing. it's like being a tomboy and, for at least for a part of my life that being accepted, i had this expectation of masculinity placed on me that led to me being castigated by my peers for stepping outside it.

there were still expectations placed on me for "being a girl" and i was punished for not doing that correctly and i experienced heaps of misogyny, but there are so many instances in my life where i was specifically punished for being a tomboy who wasn't masculine in the right way but instead in a gay way. i never felt targeted by anti-lesbian sentiment but always felt very heavily targeted by anti-gay man sentiment. but despite desiring my whole life to be a boy i didn't truly know and accept that i was one until i was 18 and didn't start living as a man until i was 20

idk man my experience with gender growing up was always so weird and confusing and people's assumptions about what i Must Have Experienced based on agab and identity are always incorrect and it's just so incredibly alienating.

I've heard things very similar to this from a lot of trans(+) people. I myself have been out since I was very young and spent the majority of my life openly (gender)queer which definitely shaped how I experienced gender socialization.

This is the problem with using socialization as a Gender Binary 2: Its Inclusive Now! While there are broad trends, people can have such wildly different relationships with gender. Some trans people have always felt targeted based on their assigned sex, some people have always felt targeted based on their gender identity, some people have felt both.

The thing about the patriarchy is that it's a liar and you should never trust anything it says. The patriarchy claims to be a strict gendersex binary for control purposes, but it also must grapple with the existence of queers (gays, trannys, intersex folks) whose existence proves that what it claims to be natural is constructed. Because the ways in which misogyny and transphobia actually function are not tied down by any logic other than "stay in control." Demonizing queer&trans+ people for being "monstrous" for blurring the boundaries between (cishet) men and (cishet) women is like, alongside misogyny, a core part of how gender oppression works. Whenever people expect us to have the exact same experiences as cis people, whether based on gender identity or agab or socialization, they are trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.