#this probably would’ve made a better fic but I just wanted to do this idea quickly because I just found the ask

[tenjikyu]

𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴 - 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ bonten!executives x manjiro’s son!reader , male!reader , izana lives bc fuck it we ball & he adds character to the fic , bonten all lives together in a massive penthouse just like my rockstar!reader fic bc that’s such a fun idea , reader is a very “ ion gaf ” character , reader is not biologically related to manjiro , reader has suffered through childhood abuse , more fluff then angst , going to make a part 2 .

❤︎ the day manjiro sano found you, helpless and starved, he practically convinced himself to ignore you.

❤︎ alas, his big brother didn’t share the same sentiment, quickly walking over to you and overwhelming you with questions.

❤︎ izana talked your ear off, and all the executives present could see that you were pissed by his presence.

❤︎ deciding it would be better to just leave you be to die of starvation, he takes izana’s hand in his own before dragging him away.

❤︎ you barley crossed his mind after that.

❤︎ until he found you in an alleyway, drenched in blood that was certainly not your own.

❤︎ you were wielding a simple thin kitchen knife, and you were clearly distressed.

❤︎ looking over your shoulder, you notice the man’s presence behind you, and get in an offensive position, ready to attack need be.

“what happened?” the boy with frosted skin asked you, staring lifelessly at the rather large man that had a slice to his throat.

“he followed me back to the alleyway after i borrowed some apples from the store next to his. when i told him to leave, he didn’t.” you explain, glaring at the corpse next to you.

“and so, i had to take matters into my own hands.”

you seemed almost indifferent to the stench of blood, your eyes spoke a million words to manjiro. it was as though this was an all to familiar scenario for you.

“come boy, i’ll get you a change of clothes.” the man before you almost orders you. scoffing, you race to him and grip the knife to his throat.

“like hell i’m going anywhere with you.” you spit at the man, completely oblivious to just how dangerous he was, not that you would’ve cared regardless.

it’s a kill or be killed world, and you weren’t going to become apart of the former. not again.

manjiro only sighed, waving your hand away from him.

“come, or do you want the cops to find you? you aren’t getting anywhere dressed like that. if you’re with me, the police force won’t be able touch you.”

at the end of the day, you had just killed a man once more, and you knew deep down that the strange man in front of you was right.

there was no way you’re getting out of this alone.

❤︎ and so, you allowed the lean man to hold your even thinner wrist as he walks through the streets. it was about 10:00pm by now, and manjiro knew that his brother is probably blowing up his phone as you two walk.

❤︎ regardless, he takes you into a shady thrift shop and gets you dressed. nothing fancy, just a black hoodie with some worn jeans and a pair of 2nd hand converse shoes. not the best, but much better then the rags you were wearing beforehand anyways.

❤︎ as he made his way back to the penthouse, which could easily home more then 15 people, he finally answers his silenced phone.

❤︎ izana is giving him the usual earful about how he “shouldn’t leave without his big brother” and how “anyone could be tracking his movements.”

❤︎ manjiro only holds your little hand tighter as he steps into the place.

❤︎ immediately, 8 sets of eyes land on the two of you.

❤︎ the man with the curly white hair blankly stares into what feels like your soul. he slowly approaches you, before leaning down to his level.

❤︎ “you like taiyaki?”. his eyes crazed and still glaring into you.

❤︎ and thus, you were oddly enough, quickly welcomed into bonten.

❤︎ you were promptly fed and bathed, much to your discomfort, before being placed into one of the many spare bedrooms within their absolutely massive penthouse, right next to manjiro’s bedroom for simplicity’s sake.

❤︎ everything was a first for you, from the endless amount of food stocked in the home, to having adults around you that aren’t about to beat you senseless.

❤︎ after waking up from your first ever comfortable night asleep, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t speak a word to any of these people.

❤︎ having your trust in the ones supposed to protect you abused and shattered doesn’t get fixed overnight, but that didn’t seem to bother any of the men around you.

❤︎ it has been 2 days since your arrival, and apart from manjiro showing you around, they seemed to mostly ignore your presence.

❤︎ you did whatever you wanted. watched TV, ate anybody’s food without a care in the world, interrupted all of the men from getting their work done and stolen an excessive amount of personal items that belonged to the executives, much to their confusion.

❤︎ some of them used the spare bedrooms as 2nd offices (apart from the one at HQ), and you used that as a way to learn more about the guys who had ripped you from the streets.

❤︎ and from that, you learned then that you were currently residing in the most dangerous home in japan, with the deadliest men in the country’s stolen goods scattered in your bedroom.

❤︎ your heart sunk when you heard someone enter the office you were in, only to find the head on bonten staring at you as you scrolled through his laptop.

❤︎ you only blinked, before slowly backing away from him, attempting to make a run for it.

❤︎ “let’s chat, (Y/N).” he takes ahold of your little wrist once more.

❤︎ fuck.

❤︎ you spent a good 2 and 1/2 hours talking to manjiro. you told him about your home life. how your mother slept around with the door wide open, and how your fathers empty bottles typically collided with your forehead if you took a breath too loud. you told him about how you had finally had enough, and murdered them both with the same knife you held to his throat only a few days ago.

❤︎ you told him about how school was a drag, and the kids there would often laugh at the marks left by your father. ‘the boy with unfortunate parents’ was your title, and you found yourself breaking the noses of the children teasing you. and so, you just stopped going.

❤︎ you told him more about yourself. how you (from what you could remember), were nine and turning ten next year, and what your interests were, heavily limited due to lack of exposure.

❤︎ not once did manjiro interrupt you as you spoke. he sat there, legs crossed and staring at you with an indifferent look.

❤︎ after you were done, he gently pulled you by the waist into his lap and ruffled your messy hair.

❤︎ “from now on, you only listen to what i say. you don’t need to listen to anyone else in the house, okay? just do as i say, and you’re free to do as you wish.”

❤︎ that’s all he says as he strokes your hair, attempting to have you drift off in his protective hold.

❤︎ and it works.

A/N : part 2 is gonna have the reader interacting with the executives, as well as the father/son relationship form between him and manjiro.

uncle izana is gonna go so hard.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Honey Trap

AN: Fifth fic for @moonknight-events’ MK Bingo! This is probably a little silly (and likely not very well-written) but it was fun to come up with and write so irdc lol 😌 Hope someone other than me enjoys this!

You stumble across Marc while he's camping in a remote part of the woods and he's (understandably) suspicious of you.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, you've been warned) Prompt: Hiking Words: 2,427 Pairing: Marc Spector x F!Reader Warnings: references to death, attempted murder, knives, frottage, please let me know if i missed anything. AO3

——————

Marc doesn’t trust you. 

Your story about wandering off trail and getting lost was plausible, sure, and you looked harmless enough, but he'd been around long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. 

Still, what was he to do? If you really were telling him the truth, you needed help. He couldn’t just let you wander around alone in the dark. What if something happened? What if you got injured, or worse, killed? No, better to assume the risk, to give you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, it certainly made it easier to keep an eye on you. You’d been so grateful, thanking him profusely and promising not to be a bother. He’d waved this off of course, trying to ignore the way his stomach flipped when you smiled at him. 

It’s late now, the moon full and high in the dark night sky. You’re sitting on the other side of the fire (his fire), your jacket zipped to your chin, arms wrapped around your legs as you try to get as close to the flames as you can without burning yourself. He tries not to keep looking at you, at the way the firelight makes you glow, but every time he looks away, his eyes inevitably drift back. There’s something about you, he’s not sure what but, it makes him feel…uneasy. Everything about you seems normal but he just can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something. His stomach rumbles at this thought and he briefly considers that he might just be hungry. With a sigh, Marc digs into his bag, searching for the rations he’d packed. His eyes meet yours over the fire as he pulls a packet of jerky out and shakes it.  

“Want some?” he asks, holding it out to you. 

You hesitate, eyes dipping to study the nondescript packet in his hand. He swallows thickly as you unconsciously lick your lips. 

“Thanks,” you say finally, smiling as you take the food from him. 

He nods, pulling out another and tearing it open. Marc’s eyes scan the surrounding darkness as the two of you eat, the slight crinkling of the ration packaging replacing the silence. 

“So,” you begin, studying the strip of jerky between your fingers. “You come here often?” 

His lips quirk slightly at the joke but he just shrugs. “Not really, no.” 

You hum, carefully chewing a bite of jerky. “Could’ve fooled me.” 

He meets your gaze, unease settling in his gut. “How do you mean?” 

It’s your turn to shrug now, pulling another strip from your packet “You just seem very…prepared is all.” 

He sniffs in amusement, relaxing slightly. “Yeah well, people do tend to be at least slightly prepared when they plan on camping in the woods.” 

You scoff, swallowing your mouthful of food. “I wasn’t planning on camping though.” 

“Maybe not,” he agrees, taking a sip from his water bottle. “But you clearly had no idea what you were getting yourself into by coming all the way out here. Seriously, who hikes without a map?” 

You snort, shaking your head at yourself. “Valid point. Obviously, I’m an incompetent buffoon.” 

Marc bites back a smile, pulling another piece of jerky from the packet. “Well at least you’re aware of it.” 

“I’m so aware of it,” you laugh, putting your head in your hands.  

He hums, his eyes drifting to you again across the fire, watching as you (presumably) mentally berate yourself for getting into this situation. What would’ve happened had you not run into him? If you had run into someone else? With no supplies, would you even have survived the night? A wave of sympathy washes over him, and he frowns at himself for going soft on you so quickly. 

“What brought you out here, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

You look up from your hands, eyes tired but bright as you smile somewhat fondly. “My brother.” 

Marc raises an eyebrow. “Your brother?” 

You nod, reaching for your pack. You unzip it and pull out an understated urn. His stomach sinks. 

“Oh,” he croaks, his throat going suddenly dry. “I’m…sorry for your loss.” 

“Thanks,” you whisper, turning your attention to the urn in your hands. “He would’ve liked you, I think. Calling me out for being unprepared and all that. He was always looking out for me.” 

Marc grunts, uncomfortable now at the turn the conversation has taken given what had happened to his own brother. “Sounds like he was a, uh, good guy.” 

You nod, meeting his eyes over the fire again, the soft smile on your lips making his heart skip. “He was.” 

The two of you talk a little more, the topics now lighter and less serious. When you start yawning so often you can barely keep the conversation going though, he decides it’s time for bed. He insists that you take his sleeping bag, knowing your thin jacket isn’t enough to keep you warm until the sunrise. Once you agree to take it, he settles down beside the fire, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head. Your soft snores meet his ears in no time and he smiles to himself, glad that he was able to help someone without using violence just this once. 

He stares into the fire, watching as the flames dance, as they devour the kindling he’d thrown in earlier, as they burn through the sticks and branches he’d collected. His eyes droop, head bobbing gently as he tries to stay awake, knowing he has to keep an eye on things (on you). He thinks he trusts you, or he wants to at least, but he just can’t seem to shake that feeling. Could he really trust himself though? After everything he’s done, after everything he’s seen? Perhaps it’s you who should be afraid of him. 

His thoughts spiral, taking him in directions both logical and illogical. He lets himself get lost in it, in the scenarios, in the possibilities, each one more unlikely than the next. At some point, he must doze off, though, because the next thing he knows is the weight of a body on top of him with a knife to his throat. 

It’s you. Of course it’s you. 

Damn it, he should’ve known, should’ve listened to that niggling feeling inside him that told him not to trust you. 

It’s dark save for the moonlight—you must’ve doused the fire before making your move on him.  

“I’m sorry about this,” you say, grimacing down at him somewhat apologetically. “You seem nice, and I actually kind of enjoyed talking to you but, unfortunately, I have a job to do.” 

Marc swallows thickly, the action pushing the blade a fraction deeper into his skin. “To kill me, you mean?” 

Your face loses some of its softness as you shake your head at him. “That depends on how cooperative you are.” 

He grunts, saying nothing as he tries to assess just how bad things are for him.  

“See,” you continue, leaning in a little closer, the delicious scent of you invading his nostrils. “I need information.” 

He waits for you to continue, eyes scanning your face for any tells, any flickers he can use to his advantage. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh in disappointment, frowning theatrically.  

“Please, Marc, I don’t wanna have to slice up your pretty face. Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.” 

He clenches his teeth at your condescending tone. “What do you wanna know?”  

You smile softly at him and he curses himself for the way his heart skips a little; what the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Tell me about Operation Windstorm.” 

He needs to figure out how to get out of this. He can’t just push you off of him, can’t use his legs to flip you over, not with that knife so close to his carotid artery. One wrong move and he’s dead. 

So he stalls. 

Marc snorts, raising an eyebrow at you. “That’s it? Of all the jobs I’ve pulled, that’s the one you wanna know about?” 

You continue to smile down at him, as if you know exactly what he’s doing. “I couldn’t care less, to be perfectly honest but, my client wants to know so, until I get paid, I guess I do too.” 

He grunts, resigned to the fact that he has no choice but to give you exactly what you want in the hopes that you don’t slit his throat afterward. So he tells you every detail of that job, answering every question you have, and just when he’s beginning to think this just might not end well for him, he feels the pressure of your blade ease ever so slightly. 

He wastes no time, taking control and flipping you over, knocking the knife from your hand and causing it to skitter off into the darkness. Marc traps you beneath him, your arms pinned above your head, his knees bracketing your thighs. You’re not giving up without a fight though and wriggling beneath him, trying somehow to use the position to your advantage. You try to lift your leg, brushing your thigh against his groin; the clench of his jaw makes you smirk. 

“Stop it,” he orders, embarrassed by how easy it was for you to rattle him. 

“C’mon, we both know you don’t want that,” you tease, looking down at the slight bulge in his jeans. “Has it been a while, honey?” 

He growls, your breathy chuckles sending shivers up his spine as you continue to move beneath him. “Shut up.” 

“Or what?” you whisper, somehow managing to extricate one of your legs and curl it over his hip.  

“Or this,” he says through gritted teeth, grinding his erection against your core in an effort to turn the tables, to work you up the way you’re working him up. 

It works, your eyes fluttering, lips parting in a sweet little whimper as he grinds into you slowly, over and over again. He groans when you meet his thrusts (as well as you can anyway given your position), the heat blossoming in his gut. He leans in close, his hands still pinning your arms to the ground as he gets lost in you, in the feel of you, in the way you look beneath him. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathe, panting as every press of his hips sends delightful waves of pleasure through your body. 

Marc hums in agreement, his lip between his teeth as he hovers over you. You want to kiss him, to taste him, to devour him. So you do, pushing yourself up to capture his lips, your tongue claiming his mouth and pulling another groan from him. You arch into him as well as you can, pulling his body even closer with your freed leg as you continue to move together. The friction is delicious, like heaven, and a part of you never wants it to end. You wish you could flip him over again, ride him fast and hard, his strong fingers digging into your hips as you pull him apart and put him back together over and over and— 

Your release slams into you at the thought, a choked moan slipping from between your lips as he keeps moving, prolonging your bliss. Marc watches you as you come, the look in his eyes is greedy as your body shakes, your face contorting into something ethereal, almost otherworldly. When you come back to yourself, you meet his eyes again, your chest heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, the wildness and lust in his eyes visible even in the darkness. You shiver with pleasure, chewing your lip as you let your gaze drag slowly down his body. You wish you could see more of him, his windbreaker doing nothing to compliment his undoubtedly amazing body. 

“Who sent you?” He pants, as if he hadn’t just given you the best orgasm you’ve had in years. 

Your eyes flick back to his at the question, a lazy smile curling the edges of your mouth as you begin to move against him again, silently begging him to come for you. He swallows thickly, his body tensing with every brush of your hips, his fingers clenching and unclenching around your forearms. His eyelashes flutter as he watches you, his mouth slack with pleasure. Then he groans, giving into you, into this, his body curling even more over yours as he buries his face in your neck. He ruts against you, his movements somewhat uncoordinated as he chases his release.  

His body twitches above yours as he comes, his moans muffled slightly by your neck. Just as you’re mourning the fact that you didn’t get to see his face, you notice his hold on you has slackened a bit— enough to turn the tables, you hope. Still dazed from his orgasm, it takes him a moment to realize what you’re doing as you begin to wiggle beneath him, and by the time he does, it’s too late.  

Marc grunts as you push him onto his back and straddle him, your hands pinning his muscular arms to the ground. After everything, you should probably kill him—he’s the type to hold a grudge, the type that’ll try to hunt you down—but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. If nothing else, it’d be a waste of a pretty face. Instead, you kiss him, relishing the taste and feel of him one last time before pulling away to smile down at him. 

“Thanks for the tumble, honey,” you whisper, climbing off of him with a chuckle. 

By the time he comes back to himself, you’re gone and the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon. Marc groans in frustration, running his hands over his face as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. He should be pissed, he thinks, for so easily falling into your trap but, somehow, he isn’t. He sniffs a laugh, shaking his head at himself as he moves to get up.  

Later, when he’s packing up his gear (including the sleeping bag he’d let you borrow), he comes across a folded, non-descript piece of paper that he knows must be from you. He unfolds it, his fingers fumbling slightly in his haste. For a moment, he just stares, his eyes tracing the lines and curves of your parting words, words that make his lips quirk in a smile.

See you around.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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[strawberryya]

how to befriend a vampire

Yeosang x reader

synopsis: what could be better when you’re bored of life in every way than a hot vampire fuck buddy?

word count: 2k

genre/contains: smut, vampire au, vampire!yeosang, gn!reader, strangers to lovers/fwb, unprotected sex, general tw for vampirism and being bitten (the word blood is not used but heavily implied), stalker-ish behavior from both individuals, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms

rating: 18+

a/n: first arousal august fic is here! I hope everyone likes it and looks forward to the next little blurb I have ready and waiting in the drafts :>

my arousal august masterlist

original event for arousal august

[navigation post!]

Summer was over and new classes were about to begin. Returning to your normal routine wasn’t too hard, you had done it before. Your friends were the same, your dorm was the same, although your roommates were new, and the classes all felt as usual. Nothing special was happening at all. Of course, it would’ve been nice if something were to happen, anything really. Just something that would make life this year a bit different than last year. Maybe you should drop a class and pick up something that has nothing to do with your goal, perhaps cults would be fun to study for a term or two? 

Nothing was wrong, it was just so very…boring. 

“A back-to-class party?” Not a terrible idea, you reasoned when your new roommates asked if you wanted to come along to the park that first weekend back at campus. 

It could be horrible, but at least it would mean that something would happen other than studying or watching movies with your new, and so far reasonable, roommates. It had been a while since you had been with anyone too. Maybe this party was the perfect opportunity to find someone a bit attractive to hook up with. The one from last year had ended up getting into a relationship during the summer - rather annoying, because he really wasn’t that bad in bed. 

You needed orgasms to get through the school year, and so you went to the party. Dressed up from head to toe, in clothes that hugged your ass and glitter in your hair, hoping that the outfit would be enough to gain someone’s attention. 

Your mission was… sort of successful. It did attract tons of people, some really attractive people, and some incredibly sleazy and creepy people.

You regretted coming after about two hours of nonstop socializing with other students which led absolutely nowhere. Nobody grabbed your attention, everyone fit perfectly into the little presaved folders in your head. It was so predictable, so incredibly boring. 

“Should we just give up?” You shouted to one of your new roommates. At least, you found some hope in the fact that neither one of them had ended up finding someone interesting among the large crowd that flew past one another like ants in the campus park. You weren’t completely alone in yur failure. 

“I’m ready to go, honestly,” one of your roommates agreed, while the other one had already disappeared in the crowd without acknowledging your question. 

You grabbed ahold of one another. Neither of you sober enough to be able to navigate your way home without losing one another in the night. With arms folded together, in a way only possible for two almost strangers when drunk, you two trudged away from the party and the loud bass that made your head pound. 

“I wanted to fuck someone tonight,” you groaned and fake sobbed into the chilly night air, your roommate only laughing at your unapologetic whining. “I’m not kidding, I don’t care who it is. I just really wanna be obsessed with someone! I wanna be in love! I don’t care if it’s actually love or just really great sex.”

It seemed a bit silly to say out loud, but it was the truth. You probably wouldnt have been so honest with your roommate this soon had you been sober tonight. Nevertheless, the truth was that you just wanted someone to think about, someone to crush on, someone to sleep with when the days became too boring to handle by yourself. 

You were wobbling down the cobbled streets on your way back to the dorm. Your arm was still entangled with your roommates, thoughts having moved on from your honest feelings and instead focusing on whether or not it would be possible to order fries to your dorms. 

When he bumped into your arm, or more correctly, when you stumbled into his arm as he passed, you almost fell over. Enraged at the audacity of this random guy to walk right into you, you turned back around, prepared to yell at him with all your might. But when you began shouting a loud “Hey!”, your anger soon ebbed out as the stranger turned around, revealing his perfect face in the yellow light from the streetlight above. His features were striking even in the dark. His eyes were piercing. His hair was dark and pushed back from his forehead in a light wave. Beside one of his eyes, you noticed a blushy pink birthmark, almost matching the pretty red shade of his lips. His lips… were a lot redder than any lips you had seen on a random guy before. Was he wearing lipstick? 

You had forgotten why you had yelled out to the stranger. His gorgeously handsome face distracted you completely. 

“Y/n, let’s gooo,” your roommate whined, pulling at your arm, evidently not enraptured by the pretty stranger you had bumbled into. How was that possible? You had never seen him before, never known he existed, and you were already obsessed with him. His name, his interests, his favorite place to kiss his lover, you needed to know it all. You needed to befriend him. 

The night was mostly a blur the following day, everything except for the stranger.

For some reason, his face never left your mind. For two weeks you searched every room for him, scanned the streets as you walked down them, and took walks on the campus every shot you got. 

You never found him. He could’ve been an illusion, but you knew deep down that he wasn’t. At least looking for the mystery man in the night had given you something to think about, someone to obsess over, even if you didn’t even know his name. 

It took yet two more weeks and another walk to the convenience store to finally find that one necessary piece of information. You didn’t understand how it had taken this long to find him, it wasn’t like he was hiding. He was walking around in the park, just like the last time you had bumped into him. Dark hair falling onto the sides of his head, a long coat half open to reveal a simple black polo and jeans, almost exactly like last time. You took it all in, stopping mid-step as to not loose sight of him, the plastic bag you had bought filled with snacks and drinks for the late-night studying you had planned on doing was rustling in the wind. He had seen you too. 

He wasn’t moving either, maybe he thought you were a weirdo for simply staring at him in the dark park. 

You drew in a breath. “Hey you! What’s your name?!” You shouted across the grass. If you were going to be a weirdo, you would do it properly. 

He didn’t shout back. Far away someone shouted in the night. You looked towards the sound for half a second out of reflex, and when you looked back the stranger was gone. 

Again?? You thought and damned the universe for teasing you like this. 

“Yeosang.” 

The voice was deep and it sent chills down your back. It made you quickly turn around, finding the stranger right behind you now. He was even hotter this close. 

“Yeosang…” you whispered under your breath. He was rather tall. He gave you a small smile, white teeth flashing cold in the moonlight. Unusually pointy. “I’m y/n…”

His smile got wider. “I know”

Your mind blanked, but you needed to say something. “Let’s be friends!” You hurried to say before he could have a chance to mysteriously disappear again. His smile dropped, eyes looking at you surprised and slightly suspicious. Understandable. 

“Sure,” he said after a moment of only the wind in your ears, a smirk appearing on his face. “If a friend is all you want, I can grant you that.” 

“It’s not,” you said honestly and quickly. His smirk grew. “I want a lot more, but I only found out your name ten seconds ago. Thought I’d give you a chance to get to know me before I tried getting you into bed with me.” 

You felt feverish, the embarrassing reality of what you were telling this stranger hitting you hard.

“I know enough,” he said before his hand found the side of your face and his lips leaned in to meet yours. He tasted like aluminum for a split second but the way you could feel his toned body against yours where your coats fell open distracted you and you soon forgot about the unusual taste. 

A swishing sound made you open your eyes again, the cold from the night air in the campus park seemingly gone and replaced with much warmer air. You were inside, you were inside your own bedroom. You didn’t know how it had happened, you didn’t really know what had happened, and you didn’t know why you didn’t even care. The stranger in the night was named Yeosang, and he was kissing down your neck in your bedroom, pulling your coat off your body, and throwing it into the corner of the room. He was no ordinary person, that you had already caught onto. 

“Can I bite you?” He mumbled against your skin. 

His hands were caressing your body and your mind was buzzing with desire, but the desire didn’t clog your mind yet. You were clearminded and saying “Yes” before you could stop and think about what a bad decision it might be to agree. 

Small pecks now your throat made arousal pool in your lower abdomen. “Bite me as you fuck me,” you whispered. This made Yeosang smile against your skin, moving up to kiss you passionately once again as he pulled his own clothes off along with yours. Pushing you down on the bed as his hard cock pushed against your thigh. It would be tight, but you needed him to use you and stretch you out enough to make life interesting again. 

That, he did. Nothing was mundane or boring about his hands on your body or his tongue on your chest. He was surprisingly gentle as he began filling your hole with his erect cock, but his pace grew feral as he continued pounding into you. You were moaning and clawing at his sculpted body when he hit the right spot inside of you. When his lips let go of you, you looked at him gazing down at your bare neck, he wanted to bite you for real, it was clear he meant it, and you wanted him to as well. You shifted your neck, inviting him to do what he wished. “You look delicious,” he mumbled before he threw himself onto your neck, piercing the skin ever so slightly. You barely even felt it, but the way he suckled on your skin after the small sting felt like he was trying to mark your skin, sending goosebumps down your body when he continued licking and humming against your neck. 

You came as he pounded into you, his hands working their magic while getting to know your body. He didn’t stop until you came for a second time, whining at the overstimulation. 

He cared for your neck and cleaned you up, his movements swift and gentle as he handled you. He caressed your skin with great care, careful not to be too rough. A world’s difference from the way he had fucked you a moment ago. He didn’t force any small talk, a nice change from most other guys you had been with. He had gotten dressed and given you some of your own pajamas to put on before he was ready to leave. 

He couldn’t leave just like this, you collected all the courage you had left and began with an unsure voice. “We’re friends now, right? So you’re welcome here anytime, we could do this again…” 

“We’re friends, yeah.” He smirked and looked at you as you pulled your shirt over your head. “I’ll be here if you need me, or if you’re just… bored.” The last word he said was paired with a small wink. You chuckled nervously, he had known all along. Could he read your mind as well? Maybe you could find out next time. 

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[navigation post!]

[wonijinjin]

thinkin’ about you

author’s note: inspired by the song ‘thinkin’ about you’ by seventeen. also, this fic will probably get a second part, because i just cannot leave this on a cliffhanger without a sequel, that would be a shame

update: second part of this fic can be found here.

synopsis: you drinking a little too much and calling joshua to take you home wasn’t the best idea, or was it?

word count: 1.2k | genre: fluff, mutual pining, kinda slowburn, the tiniest bit of hurt/comfort and angst, close friends to something more | pairing: joshua x gn! reader | warnings: mentions of alcohol and being tipsy/drunk, the curse word ‘fuck’

your exam season at university was finally over, and to celebrate passing your tests you and your friends decided on going out to party at a club in the city. it was already past midnight, the party going on for several hours at that point, when you started to get really tired, having had multiple shots and cocktails, but your friends insisted on staying a bit longer. you could feel yourself get tipsier by the minute so you thought the safest option would be going home before you did something stupid or embarrassing you would regret in the morning. you took out your phone and dialed the first number that came to mind, your close friend’s, joshua’s. while waiting for him to pick up the phone your messy thoughts wondered to your long existing not so platonic feelings for him. he made your heart jump every time you thought about him, which was almost always, not just due to your feelings, but because you spent a lot of time with him on a daily basis as he was a very dear person to your heart. you have known him for as long as you can remember, and he was truly the most amazing friend you had, always being there for you, always treating you with so much care. he was like this with most of his friends, he cherished people around him and never took them for granted, you really admired him for this. you sometimes hated loving him, because it was so difficult to keep your emotions to yourself for this exact reason. who could blame you though? he was all anyone would wish for in a partner, kind, intelligent, considerate, caring.

“hello? y/n? what’s up?” he said as he picked up, voice hoarse, laced with sleep. “ah were you sleeping? sorry, should’ve known you need your beauty sleep to be this handsome.” you slurred, clearly more drunk than you thought. “were you drinking?” he questioned “are you hurt or something?” his voice sounded concerned. you laughed at this “nooo silly, i am perfectly fine, i had so much fun” there was a moment of silence before you continued “…but i need a favor, all my friends want to stay here longer, so i need a ride home. no way i’m getting into a car driven by a stranger, plus i don’t even have enough money for a taxi.” you expected him to say no, after all, it was in fact the middle of the night and he clearly had better plans on how to spend his. he sighed on the other end of the line “fine, i would much rather drive you home than letting you ask a stranger from the club to do it when you are clearly wasted as fuck.” he said while shuffling echoed in the phone, indicating that he was already getting up and changing. you knew he was right; you were not in the best shape. maybe the last margarita was a bit too much? “thank you shua baby.” the nickname slipped out on accident and if you were sober you would’ve gasped and started apologising right away, saying that he should forget about this, but you couldn’t really care less in that moment. you could hear the hitch in his breathing and the tension in his voice when he said goodbye over the phone, asking for your location and saying he would text you when he was there. you wondered; maybe drinking was a good decision, maybe getting a bit bold with words is what you needed as encouragement to tell him the secret you’ve been hiding for quite a while now, maybe you should really confess to him while you are not scared of the consequences.

20 minutes later you got the text from him and you were ready to leave. your confident march from the entrance to the car failed though when you tripped over your own feet, almost breaking half of your bones in the process. “oh my god y/n how much did you drink?” someone asked while helping in restoring your balance. you knew it was joshua right away, that voice cannot be mistaken for anybody else. “a little too much, i think?” you giggled. joshua took you to his car and opened the door for you to climb into the passenger seat. “wow thank you this is so fancy i feel like royalty.” you commented, still grinning. “well i do feel like a personal chauffeur now, coming here just to be taking your ass home. let’s go, put that leg inside so we can go, your highness.” he demanded while grabbing your leg, tired of waiting for you to clumsily get into the vehicle.

after he shut the door and got in himself to start the engine you two sat in silence for a little while before you spoke up. “i’m really sorry you have to take me home, i know i was selfish for asking, but i really didn’t have a better plan. i didn’t feel like i was this drunk when i was inside, but sitting here made me regret having the last drinks.” he looked at you at the red light. “look, i don’t mind this, really. you are one of my best friends, i would do this a hundred times if it meant you got home safely and some weirdo didn’t kidnap you or something. also, you thinking about me first when asking for help is quite flattering too you know.” he smirked. you nodded, eyes getting heavy suddenly from all that partying. “i can see you almost falling asleep. there’s a jacket on the back seat if you want it as a makeshift blanket. i will wake you when we get there. go to sleep y/n.” you didn’t bother to search for the jacket, just closed your eyes, letting sleep overtake you. “what you said is true. i do think about you a lot, shua. probably more than a close friend should.” you mumbled, already half asleep, still not sobering up enough to control and censor your thoughts before saying them out loud. “what do you mean?” his eyes went wide and he looked in your direction as if he misheard what you had said, only to see you knocked out cold, sleeping soundly like a baby. on the way to your house he couldn’t stop himself from replaying your words in his head over and over again while he checked on you from time to time to see if you were alright. he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, that you might’ve felt something more for him, something friends don’t feel, something he had been suppressing for a long time, a warm feeling in his chest. when you arrived he turned off the car, however didn’t have the heart to wake you. he knew you were exhausted, so he draped his jacket over you, and let you sleep for a bit longer, watching you rest so peacefully after shaking up his heart with your drunk monologue. he didn’t know if he should believe you, if he really had a chance of being more than friends with you after all these years. he got comfortable in his seat, facing your form, eyes looking at your still face.

“i know you are sleeping, but just so you know we will definitely have to talk about this little sentence of yours in the morning y/n. i do think about you a lot too, you know? you need to be more clear next time, because you cannot do this to me, driving me crazy and leaving me to chase false hopes.”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

HEYY girl 💗 could I req a bam x fem reader where they’re enemies to lovers becuase y/n is just as reckless as he is?? Thank you 🫶

The Stuntgirl Rule

Bam breaks the one rule the crew all agreed on when they first added a girl to the group, which wouldn’t be as big of a deal if they didn’t hate each other. All this animosity builds and builds until Y/N finally figures out how to knock Bam down a peg.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, Angst)

3.8k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, enemies to lovers, crude language, blood, snakes, misogyny, Madonna-Whore complex, injuries, hospitals, flirting, slut shaming, situationships

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I’ve come to find out I really do love writing for enemies to lovers pairings :) More than that, I got to do a lot of research for this fic with psychological complexes, especially (as the tags indicate) the Madonna-Whore complex!! If you can’t tell by now, I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to writing XD I also experimented with making Bam a bit of an unreliable narrator in this one to wort of show his thought process better. I’ve been told my writing takes the asshole out of him but I’m pretty sure this fic put it right back in, so be warned! If you want an idea of the dynamic I was going for, the dynamic betwen Bam and Y/N reminded me a lot of this clip from the 2016 revival of the musical, Falsettos! Ah, my theater kid past…But thank you for the request and please keep sending more!!

Kneeling on the grass, you sat eye to eye with the King Cobra you somehow got a permit to film with. The whole “Kiss of Death” stunt got shuffled around to a couple of the other guys before it landed on you but hell, you couldn’t complain- dangerous shit was kinda your thing, and otherwise the next person in line would’ve been Bam and you knew exactly how that would turn out- the yelling, the laughing, the storming off set. All the guys stood around, looming over you with bated breaths as you slowly leaned over the snake, the hot Florida sun beating down on your skin as the air swam with anticipation. But as you were creeping in, right before your lips made contact with the Cobra’s forehead, the thing lunged at your neck. Everybody hooted and hollered as you grabbed the snake and lurched back in an act of quick reflexes, chuckling in surprise, but before you could crack some wise ass joke, your cockiness betrayed you and that smug grin on your face was wiped right off your face when you felt a pair of fangs sink into your wrist. “Agh! Fuck…” Yanking your hand back, you shook out the sting as you stumbled to your feet. Steve, who was serving as impromptu cameraman after Rick ‘refused any part in your dangerous bullshit’, focused the lense in on the blood that was tricking from your arm, “Shit…that’s gnarly, dude.” Though you probably should have been concerned for yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about how awesome it looked as Johnny patted you on the back appreciatively, “That was great, Y/N!”

As you were getting walked to the medic tent, the only one who didn’t want any part in your little victory parade was Bam, still sitting half slumped back on set, glaring at you as you walked away. Big whoop, girl gets bit by snake. Last week he got on a teeter totter in the bullpen and you don’t see that on any headlines. Maybe he hated the way the guys talked and joked with you like you were one of them even though you joined the Jackass cast less than a month ago. On the other hand, maybe he was still pissed off by the very real but entirely unspoken ‘Don’t Fuck the Stuntgirl’ rule. Of course Bam brought that sorta thing up when you first joined because he’ll there’s a lot you can do once you’ve got a chick in your group, but Johnny quickly shut the idea now by saying since they wouldn’t screw any of the other guys in the crew, they’d be keeping their hands off of you. Keeps things from getting awkward when you gotta see eachother on Monday, you know? But since Bam’s running theory of you only having gotten on set after getting into Knoxville’s pants hadn’t been disproven, he wrote it off as him making the whole thing up to keep the pretty girl all to himself. Greedy asshole. Who was he to say what he could and couldn’t stick his dick into? God, he bet the whole crew was passing you around- behind trailers, in empty hotel rooms, or what about those porta-potties on set…Bam decided to stop thinking about that once some things got stirred in his mind he didn’t really want to think about too long.

Getting bandaged up in the medic tent, you hardly noticed when Bam walked in after everybody left, watching quietly and scanning you up and down from where he stood. He looked from the bruises on your knees Bam was sure he knew the source of, to your baggy clothes that always made you look like a guy with the way they sat on your body, to your hair that was unkempt and showed just how little you cared about your appearance in his eyes. You were the exact opposite of Bam’s type in women- that dark lipstick tight bootcut fantasy goth chick with a great ass that also wasn’t a bitch. Looking up from where you were bleeding through your gauze, you made eye contact with him nonchalantly, “What is it?” Bam’s eye twitched at the disinterested tone in your voice but he kept up the whole smug thing, “You cryin’?” The medic had to scoot out of the way as you leaned in towards him and squinted at the realization that Bam was getting that whole ‘hating you’ stick up his ass again. “Does it look like I’m crying?” Part of him wanted to see you cry. Bam’s eyes drifted back to your hair, thinking about how satisfying it would be to grab a handful of it and yank you to your feet with his lips pressed tight against your ear as he said every awful word he was too nice to say to your face- that he knew everything about nasty hoes like you worked, and while it was cute how quickly the guys took to you, he was getting pretty damn sick of it so it was time for you to get the hint and hit the road. But he didn’t.

The medic passed you a container of pills that you palmed and that’s when Bam got an idea, “That snake oughta be on antibiotics instead’a you.” Scoffing at his unoriginal joke, you cocked your head to the side, “Really? You think a little blood’s that nasty? Y’damn baby…” Outside the tent, there was no doubt amongst the guys that another one of your petty fights were starting and nobody was looking forward to it. Well, except you. You found the little bickering thing you had with him fun, especially with all the weak ass insults Bam threw at you. “I mean, anything that comes outta you’s nastier than whatever Steve-O’s got goin’ on in him- that guy’s a disease nest.” This was too easy. “Yeah, says the guy who let him tongue his ass wound...” Wait, you were at that party too- the one where Steve popped ecstasy and went around kissing everyone cause he ‘felt good’? Bam’s jaw clenched at the way you always had an answer to him- how dare you one up him. He jabbed a finger at your chest, “Oh, don’t talk that shit. You wouldn’t even have the balls to get branded in the first place!” Unable to help yourself from cracking a smile, your giddiness was apparent in your voice, “I got more balls than you do.” As much as you hated how much of a little bitch he could be, you always thought the back and forth thing you had between him wasn't ever that serious (a contrast to the way Bam viewed it). Delight filled you as he stormed out of the flap of the white medical tent, blushing and emasculated and- while he would never admit this, kind of turned on by the angry banter like it was some kinda foreplay.

You needed soap. That’s how it started- after shooting one day, you went back to the hotel and noticed halfway through your shower that the room service lady forgot to leave any of those tiny complimentary soaps. Groaning, you got out of the comfortable, warm, sorely needed shower and put on a towel, thinking you could go next door and get some from the guys. It’s not like you hadn’t seen them naked before, so them seeing you in a towel was no big deal. Water dripped off of your legs as you walked out into the hallway, pushing open the door to their room which was left unlocked. From what you could tell, they had gone to the hotel bar promptly after filming, so you didn’t bother to announce your presence as you walked in. However, you had one major oversight in this- Bam, who you didn’t notice from where he was sitting on one of the beds on the near side of the room. Now, you and him could have gone on just hating and fucking with each other and everything would’ve been fine, but this one incident would change it.

From where he sat on the bed, Bam silently watched as you walked around like you owned the place, softly humming to yourself as you rummaged through their shower- through his shower, the towel you wore riding up dangerously high on the backs of your thighs, skin still glistening wet as you bent over, nabbing a few little bottles of shampoo and conditioner. He glared at you with contempt through your reflection in the mirror. You’d probably do this even if the whole crew was here, wouldn’t you? Just stroll on in, nearly naked, parading yourself around in front of all those dudes like it was nothing. Shameless. He knew better than anything what that kinda porno logic setup would devolve into. Wait- christ, was he…? Oh, oh yeah. Yep. Bam couldn’t believe himself- he was actually getting hard. More than that, you had no clue he was there in the first place even as you turned to leave, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if he didn’t stand up to catch your attention. “What’re you doin’?” Turning around, you met Bam’s gaze, maybe six inches away from his body as you held up your towel with one hand and presented him your spoils in the other, “I’m getting soap…?” Unceremoniously plucking one of the bottles from your hands, he squinted at you like he was accusing you of something, “So you think y’can just waltz on in here and take my shit whenever you feel like it?”

Looking around at the empty room, you got an idea to really get under his skin. You know how Bam uses his little rich boy MTV paycheck to get whatever he wants? Well your pockets may not be lined as generously but you still found a way. Taking a step forward, you pressed your body right up against his, the same way you saw all those flirty girls do to him at the bar, letting your towel slip down a little as your voice dropped into a teasing coo, trying to provoke him, “Aww, what’s the matter? You don’t like sharing?” While you were referring to the soap, Bam took it as a double entendre and thought there was no way you didn’t mean it in the way he was thinking- what with the way your chest was squished tight against his torso or how you were practically straddling his thigh in, and this is important here, only a towel. In your eyes, this was the same as any other day you were going back and forth on set, but Bam, oh. He could feel the surge of hormones in his bloodstream as his breath caught in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. The way your body was curving against his nearly made him forget about why he hated you so much. Snapping back to reality, he couldn't tell if this was anger or lust that made him speechless, but it was probably a mix of the two. Leaning in closer, you pressed your lips close to your ear, his very obvious state of arousal only fueling your teasing as you words fell slow, melodically from your lips as you enunciated, trying to keep yourself from laughing and fucking it all up. “I’m gonna take this soap back to my room, and I am going to rub it over every inch of my wet. Naked. Body- and you are gonna do nothing about it. So, uh…” Reaching out with a grin, you grabbed the bottle back from Bam’s frozen hand. Now, logic would dictate that this is right about when the two of you would say fuck it and start going at eachother, but that’s not what you had in mind. “Thanks!” Slipping out the door and shutting it loudly, you left him standing there- unable to respond, entirely conflicted, and hard. Fuck.

Why was this happening? He was Bam Margera- Bam fucking Margera- he could have hordes of playboy bunnies folowing him arround wherever he want and fawning over him like their lives depended on it, but noooo. He had to fall for the gross chick he worked with. Perfectly fine, well-adjusted (debatable) women literally threw themselves at his feet on a day to day basis, and the one he’s got his eye set on? Yeah, last week she was doing lines of Tabasco sauce with Steve-O off the table at Denny’s cause they got bored waiting for their food. What a catch. He didn’t even want to meet up with the guys to go pick up chicks at the bar anymore- you know, the civilized kind that wore makeup and shoes you couldn’t skateboard in. And you didn’t even want him the way those girls wanted him- you were messing with his head like some succubus. Very quietly, he sat back down in the bed and thought about some things.

Bam was having a hard time letting everything that was happening with you go- that’s not the kind of guy he is, you know? Too many big feelings in a small package gotta go somewhere. So when he showed up on set the next day, hyped up to do that stunt where he was set to get shot by a riot control shotgun wearing nothing but a leather jacket for protection, his emotions were not in any way subdued when he caught word that Knoxville gave the stunt to you. “Dude!” Storming up to confront him, Bam pulled the asshole away from whatever conversation he was having with Jeff, “I mean, seriously? You got Y/N to do the stunt and not me?” Sticking his hands up in a mercy gesture, Johnny stammered but managed to explain himself, “I’m just sayin, man- It’d work better for her! You know- you have your skating stuff, she’s got the dangerous stuff! You could always watch from the sidelines…” Yeah, real nice save there, Knoxville. Bam hated whenever you did stunts- not because he didn’t like that you were equally as reckless as him, no way- it’s just that he thought chicks shouldn’t be doing dangerous shit, and you were always there to throw yourself in harm's way, and that annoyed him. You were standing off to the side, joking around with Chris and Steve when you felt someone suddenly grab your shoulder from behind and roughly spin you around to face him, “You know, I had some fuckin’ ideas about you, Y/N, but this really takes the cake.” Grimacing, you stood eye to eye with Bam, a little too close to his body to be comfortable. “What the hell are you talking about?” Bam took a step back, eyeing you up and down as he got ready to say what had been eating away at him for weeks. His voice was tense as he nearly growled, “You’re fuckin’ Knoxville.” What?

“Wait, I’m fucking Knoxville?” You certainly were not, but your mind put two and two together lightning fast, tracing his train of thought. It was like a switch flipped in you as rage curled up in your stomach, springing out of your mouth in words that dripped with venom, “Oh, please! You’re probably takin’ it up the ass from all of ‘em!” It was only natural that you would deny it- I mean, it’s kinda taboo for people to admit that they’re sleeping with their boss. But Bam couldn’t summon the words he needed to use to defend himself from what you claimed, so he said the only words his anger-fried brain could come up with, “Fuck you!” Flashing a grin, you got all in his personal space as your voice went from anger to condescension, “Oh, you wish.” Back to the snarky shit with this woman. Okay, maybe he did, but that was none of your business. Bam pressed his lips together as he could feel the tips of his ears heating up, and he couldn’t tell if he was getting flustered from the way you were challenging him or how correct what you were insinuating was. The fact that your lips were nearly touching his wasn't helping either. Taking advantage of your close proximity, Bam quickly reached out and snatched the shotgun from where you were gripping it and dashed off.

Oh, you said Bam had no balls? Yeah, he’s got more balls than the tri-state lottery, bitch. Shoving the gun into Ryan’s hands, he didn’t even notice when Rick started filming from where he was setting up the camera for the stunt you were supposed to do. Stepping back, Bam smacked his own chest twice in a challenging gesture, looking at his best friend but saying words he wanted to say to you, “C’mon, man. Hit me. Do it!” Knowing better than anyone the way he could get into these kinds of moods, Ryan knew the only way to talk him down was to go along with whatever stupid plan he had in mind. Groaning, he steadied the sight on where Bam was standing, aiming for his stomach where it would result in the least damage, and pressed his finger against the trigger. This loud, sickening whip cracking sound made everyone on set jump. The man on the other end of the barrel doubled over with this noise you only hear out of dying animals, falling to the ground with a thump as every ounce of air wooshed out of his lungs in a second. It was the way Bam looked like roadkill with how he curled up on the ground, not making a sound or movement, that made you feel a shred bad for him for the very first time. Looking around, you were the first person to call out, “…Medic?”

Internal bleeding they said. Three broken ribs on account of Dunn’s stellar marksmanship and a gnarly bruise, or so you heard from when the guys gathered around his bedside and were all gasps and oohs after Bam pulled down the sheets in when Steve asked to take a look at it. But after everyone was done grimacing and telling him how awesome the footage would turn out, they flooded out the door and the only person who remained was you, smugly sitting in one of those stiff hospital chairs as Bam lay across from you in his bed, hooked up to electrodes and shit like they do in movies. But there was something different in your eyes as you got up to his bedside- not so much your usual loathing towards him, but more so fascination. Bam got knocked down a peg, and you were satisfied knowing his ego was bruised alongside those abs of his he so loved to flaunt.

Bam’s words came out in a weak mumble as he looked up at you, “What d’you want?” As much as he tried to appear all tough and be a big angry man, you couldn’t help but find the sight of him laying back with his hair a little messy and that glossy look in his eyes from the epidural kinda cute with how vulnerable he was. He couldn’t make fun of you when he was at your mercy like this, what with not being able to even sit up on his own, much less fight or come up with any worthwhile insults. With one finger, you pointed down to the swollen, dark purple mark on Bam’s pale skin, lit up from the light flooding in the window. You nearly snickered, “I wanna touch it.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Bam scoffed at your suggestion, “Fine, whatever….It doesn’t even hurt- oh, fuck!“ Recoiling when you poked the tender bruise, Bam nearly let out a whimper as he winced, pain shooting through his chest. Letting out a breathy groan, he muttered, his head falling back against the pillow, “Don’t- don’t do that…” Part of you wanted to laugh at him, call him a pussy, and go find out wherever the other guys were headed, but another part of you, maybe one you went too eager to own up to, couldn’t deny that he looked kind of pretty when he got fucked up, all fragile and defeated. Like it activated something primal in you, this unconscious attraction towards broken things. You came to the realization that, when that mouth and that attitude of his wasn’t fucking it up, he was pretty hot.

The thing is, both of you liked each other, but neither were too eager to jump at that whole romcom style ‘confessing your feelings’ thing, so for the next few weeks, you tried to keep up the whole hating each other charade. Like when you and him were on the mini-ramp Chris hauled to set with his truck to give you something to do in between filming, and Bam just kept messing up whatever trick he was intent on doing that day. Up he’d go, then down to the plywood with a slam that left him a shiny new bruise- back and forth. “Y’know, it’s a lot easier to do tricks once you’ve learned to stay on your board.” You taunted, kicking up your board to stand on the one side of the ramp. But as he was about to reply with some smart ass response, Bam nailed whatever stupidly over complicated thing he was attempting. “Hahaha! Yes!” Popping his board up with one foot and, turning to you with a triumphant grin, he did one of those victory crotch grabs. “Suck it!” Ignoring the fact that, given the right circumstances, you probably would’ve taken him up on that offer, you rolled your eyes, looking him up and down in a way you hoped looked sarcastic as you spat, “Yeah, in your dreams.” Still, while the venom in your words was still there, it was dulled in a way, like a swallowing a spoonful of sugar after bitter medicine. “Oh, I’d rather rip my dick off and shove it up my ass before I let you suck it!” Bam had the same shitty comebacks as ever.

And the fact that you two were phoning it in wasn’t lost in the slightest on the rest of the guys. They’d try to drop hints to Bam and say that if he’s got the hots for you that it’d be a good idea to try not being an asshole for once, but he’d just laugh them off and tell them that that’s what chicks like nowadays- assholes. But they had no clue. All anyone else knew was that the seemingly boiling hatred you had for each other had melted into a mere simmer, practically friendly banter. Maybe Bam didn’t hit the mark when he said you were fucking the whole crew, but was right about you being shameless, as he would come to find out a few weeks into whatver the two of you had going on. But now, he wasn't one to complain when you pulled him behind a trailer on set, or into an empty hotel room- hell, even into one of those porta-potties on set. Honestly, it was just like how he imagined.

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst?

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

YOU GUYYYSSSS

part forty

❝ THE BEGINNING OF THE END ❞

THURSDAY — SEPTEMBER 10 — 3:47 PM

WITHIN TWO DAYS, DR. KEENE HAD BEEN ARRESTED, AND JOHN WHITTAKER WAS MOVED INTO ARKHAM.

And two days after that, no plan b had been set into motion. The Secret Keeper hadn’t been seen, and neither had any metahumans or missing children. It was like time froze; like they were all hunkering in the labs no one knew the location of. Stalking. Waiting for something. A signal. A word.

Bentley had been spending most of his time recovering. He couldn’t remember a thing from his sickness, not a second of it, but he sure could feel it for a few days. His whole body was sore and he slept a ton. Life was largely… still sort of normal. Apart from the newly acquired superpowers, which Bentley was slowly getting the hang of. The hard part wasn’t controlling the water, it was controlling his emotions so the water didn’t, like, kill people. Which had been going pretty okay.

Asten and Nico were doing good. Both were healthy and at home, living their own lives. Turned out, Asten hadn’t been so pissed about Nico taking him to the Manor. What he had been pissed about, however, was Bentley spilling the entire truth to Bruce, which he had confessed to them over text. Nico was fine with it; he probably would’ve done it already. And he knew Bruce was Batman, which made it better. (It had also slipped that Nico knew everyone’s superhero identities, which went strangely, strangely well.) Asten, however, promptly stopped texting Bentley and hadn’t since. (Queue a spiral of Asten hates me thoughts at a family dinner that ended with most of the table's drinks levitating. But, on the bright side, Bentley got them all back in the right glasses.)

But that was okay. Bentley was okay. Everything would be okay. 

“Check,”

Bentley looked down at the chessboard with a sigh. “I’m not very good at this.”

“You’ll get it. It’s complicated at first,” Tim replied from the other side of the table. He seemed… good. He was allowed to monitor the Batcomputer again, and looked way better. Less sick. Bentley was thankful — he’d missed Tim.

In the last three hours, he and Tim had played over a dozen mean games of checkers at the den’s board game table, and were now trying their hand at chess; a game Tim was very good at, and Bentley had little to no idea how to play. He was told it was easier to learn as you go. He didn’t think so.

Tim turned out to be freakishly good at chess, actually. He’d already beat Bentley twice and was trying his best to explain, but the poor kid just wasn’t getting it. (He was more or less moving his pieces exactly like Tim was. At least it wouldn’t be wrong!)

“Did you see anything on the computer last night?” Bentley questioned, moving one of his pieces completely randomly. Tim seemed like he wanted to correct the turn, but ended up just going with it instead. “Nope. No Secret Keeper, no metahumans. Only petty crime and gang activity.”

Bentley nodded to himself. “What about the news?”

“Nothing concerning or suspicious,”

To say Bentley was a little stressed out about the infamous plan b would be an understatement. He was told not to watch the news or Batcomputer, but he wasn’t told not to ask. Gotham burning because of him was pretty much directly his business. (And his fault. Queue a late night bathroom flood that he managed to fix before anyone else noticed just a few nights ago.)

“Here — let’s start over,” Tim suggested, moving all of his pieces back to the beginning of the game. Bentley followed suit, lining them up just like he did.

“May I take over, Drake?”

Bentley and Tim both craned their necks to glance over at the door of the den, where Damian was standing. Bentley hadn’t really seen him outside of family meals and times when everyone was together. 

He was wearing a deep green hoodie and black sweatpants, leaning against the door, and he and Tim seemed to have some kind of weird, thirty-second staring contest in which they spoke with their eyes before Tim finally stood up and made his way out of the den.

Damian made his way to the other side of the chessboard and sat down there. “Did he teach you how to play?”

Bentley glanced up at him, meeting his greenish-blue eyes for the first time in a long time. “Sort of, I guess. I’m not very good.”

Damian hummed in response, moving one of the pieces on the board. Bentley simply copied the movement with one of his.

“Father told me you ran away because of what I said, and that I should apologize,” Damian spoke up, a strange expression taking over his features, like talking that way was literally paining him. “I… did not mean for you to get so upset.”

Bentley said nothing, watching closely as Damian moved another piece on the board and trying to move one of his own correspondingly. 

“But… you did not do anything wrong to make me angry at you. I… guess I was… jealous. Of how much everybody loves you. Drake and Richard and Todd — they all flock to you. They acted like brothers to you way faster than they did for me; I still do not think Drake likes me. I understand that I am different from you, but seeing such a stark difference in my family made me… upset. After all, I am a Wayne by blood, and I felt… inferior,” He explained quietly. 

Bentley watched as Damian blinked, glancing around with a sigh. “I… am not very good at talking about this type of thing.”

“Me either,” Bentley replied honestly. “But I think you’re doing a good job.”

Damian glanced up at him, and with a exhale, moved another piece. “I guess I… I saw the way my father treated you, and… and Richard stopped spending time with me and started spending it with you instead. Watching your relationships with everybody around me flourish and become better than mine… losing the interest of my family to someone else… it hurt.”

Bentley breathed in and moved another piece on the chessboard. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It was not your fault. Being jealous was my mistake — I have been taught better than to let it cloud my judgment, and yet, it got the better of me,” Damian moved another piece. “I have always felt like an outsider in this family, due to my upbringing and differences from everybody else. Being Robin after Drake made it worse. I have always felt like I had to work to make them love me. You went to school and had friends on the first day. I suppose… watching another child join the family and get everything I had worked so hard for handed to him made me overreact.”

Bentley said nothing, but kept watching the pieces on the board move. 

“I am sorry, Bentley. I said a lot of inappropriate things to you. The truth is, your spot in this family is not built on pity or sympathy, but something much, much more… real. And it made me feel threatened. It was not right for me to take it out on you. And I sincerely apologize for all of my behavior recently,” Damian said softly. “The truth is, I have never had a real family before this one. I had my mother, of course, but this is very different… better. And, in all honesty, thinking about losing them to someone else, to anything, it… scares me. A lot.”

At that, Bentley snickered. Damian’s head snapped up, and his gaze grew cold. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing bad, it’s just… we’re a lot more similar than I thought, that’s all,” Bentley explained, moving one of his chess pieces. “Losing all of this has… I guess… kind of became one of my worst fears. And I do stupid stuff, like run away, to try and keep that from happening. We’re doing the same exact thing, just… differently.”

Damian nodded slightly, taking his turn. “I suppose we are.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Perhaps we can find a way to… deal with it… jointly.”

Bentley looked up at him. “You mean, together?”

“It’s not my typical behavior, I do admit, but I believe that would be the most beneficial course of action. We have the same motives; working together to not do, quote-on-quote, stupid things, would be the ideal solution.”

Bentley nodded. “Okay.”

They both moved another piece. “And, since I am being honest… I… miss doing things with you.”

Bentley smiled slightly. “Me too.”

Damian moved a piece on the board. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I do not deserve it; but… perhaps we can… still try and do things like we used to?” 

“I already forgave you,” Bentley said, taking his turn.

“What?”

“I already forgave you,” He repeated, glancing up at Damian. “I never blamed you. I knew you probably didn’t mean to hurt me, and that something else was going on. Plus, when anything around here goes wrong, the only person I’m trained to blame is myself,” He said, shaking his head. “I’m not upset at you, Damian. And I do miss you, too.”

A long moment of silence passed where no one said anything until Damian uttered: “Checkmate.”

Bentley snickered again. “I’m terrible at this.”

“You are pretty abysmal, yes,”

He and Damian made eye contact and started laughing, for the first time in what felt like a literal forever.

Maybe everything would be okay.

—

SATURDAY — SEPTEMBER 12 — 6:51PM

Okay, so Bentley was really loving the whole superpower thing. Not only could he make water go where he wanted, but he could also make it do what he wanted. For example, he could use a little stream of water to pick things up, like an extra hand, or break things, or cut things. (Yes, the fallen tree in the backyard was from him. It was experimental.)

Currently, though, his favorite thing to do with it was wrap the water around his own feet and use it like a skateboard. He could make it go really darn fast. It was pretty much the funnest thing he’d done in his entire life. And, when he was done, he wasn’t even wet!

Actually, that was exactly what he was doing right now, at sunset, in the backyard with Damian, Nico (who had slept over), Titus (the dog), and Ace.

Now that Bentley and Damian were friends again, life felt normal. Like actually normal, all except for the fact that Asten still wasn’t talking to him. But that was fine, he guessed. He didn’t let it bother him that much.

Nico had acquired a new power over the past few days — and it was manipulating the air beneath him so that he could fly. Straight up levitating-in-the-air fly. Which was awesome and sort of unbelievable. 

Now, the three of them were playing with the dogs, throwing toys from the sky and making the trusty Wayne canines chase their impossibly fast movements, and had been for almost an hour.

“Bentley, I am not sure this is the safest means of travel,” Damian stated. He was across the yard from Bentley, also standing on a platform of water and pretty much hating it. He was struggling to balance (which was odd considering he was Robin), and even though he literally wouldn’t hit the ground if he fell, was surprisingly unsteady.

Bentley chuckled, moving across the yard on the water seamlessly and quickly with a chew toy that Titus was chasing. “Don’t you trust me?”

“You, yes. Magical levitating water, no,”

“C’mon, we won’t let you fall!” Nico announced, dropping low to the ground and flying in a few circles around Damian. “This is the safest you’ll ever be!”

“I seriously doubt that. Although I assume I appreciate the sentiment,” Damian replied, wobbling slightly when the water lifted him up a bit higher in the air.

“Lean where you want to go like you’re on a skateboard. It’ll move when you want it to,” Bentley announced, demonstrating by taking a steady but sharp u-turn that threw Titus for a (literal) loop.

Damian scrunched his nose. “How do you know?”

“Because the water does what I tell it to,” Bentley deadpanned. “Duh.”

“I presume-“

In the distance, there was a loud, thundering crash that made everybody jump. Loud like hurricane loud. Loud like atom bomb loud.

Nico promptly landed back on the grass, and Bentley made the water seep back into the dirt and leave him and Damian on dry ground.

“What the heck was that?” Nico questioned, blue eyes wide, flicking around warily. Bentley looked around the grounds surrounding the Manor, but couldn’t come up with much.

“I don’t know,”

“It sounded like-“

“Dami!”

The three of them turned to face the porch, where Dick was standing, an urgent look spread across his face. “C’mon, we need you!”

Oh, so something really serious was happening? What was happening?

The three of them made for the house at once, and Bentley assumed it was really, really serious when Dick went straight into the cave in front of Nico with no discretion at all.

They followed him closely, and halfway down the stairs, Nico nudged Bentley’s shoulder. He had his phone in hand. “I missed four calls from Asten.”

Bentley glanced down at his pockets, patting them and then withdrawing his phone. On the lock screen, there sat Asten’s name. Four times.

“Me, too,” He muttered. Nico tapped on Asten’s name and brought it to his ear. Bentley heard it go straight to voicemail.

“That can’t be good,” Bentley muttered, and Nico shook his head.

When they made it to the cave, it seemed to be crunch time. Tim was all Red Robin-ed up, sitting at the Batcomputer, typing furiously, and Bruce was but two feet away in his full Batman gear besides the cowl. Jason was about halfway into being Red Hood, Dick ran off to get ready, Cass and Steph zoomed out of the cave on guttural sounding motorcycles, and Damian made for the locker room, where his suit was.

“Holy shit,” Nico muttered, breathless.

Bentley, amused by his cursing but not enough to crack a smile, made for the Batcomputer in record time. “What’s happening?”

In the center of the massive screen was an aerial view of Gotham from what looked like a drone. Bentley’s question was answered indisputably by a building — an entire actual building, with a bunch of floors and all — rumbling and shaking at the base, the entire thing collapsing from the bottom up with a loud crash that rumbled the sides of the cave, smoke and dust pluming up into the sky and making it hard to see. The city was indeed glowing, but not in it's normal sunset lights way. 

Gotham was burning. 

There were flames everywhere; licking out of the windows of buildings, vehicles burning on the streets, trees and plants and flower beds charred, entire multi-story buildings engulfed in flame. How many people had… how many people were…?

Bentley’s father had warned him about this, and still, he told the truth anyways. (How stupid was that? Bentley Whittaker was still on his ten year streak of doing absolutely nothing beneficial.)

“I’m trying to triangulate the epicenter of the destructive energy, but I’m struggling. It’s powerful everywhere,” Tim said, more to himself than Bruce, still furiously typing away on the computer. The keys he was pressing were showing up as lines of code in a box in the bottom left corner of the screen. The top right corner also had a little box in it, cycling through what looked like the most prevalent news channels and stories.

“I’m going to have a heart attack,” Nico whispered, drifting up next to Bentley and looking at the computer. “I’m in the Batcave.”

“Bentley, are you positive your father didn’t say anything else about this plan b? Anything at all?” Bruce questioned, moving away from the computer to a different part of the cave.

“No…” Bentley muttered, watching the news stories flick to pictures of charred bodies and immediately looking away. “All he said was… when the elements are against each other, fire always wins. That’s all.”

Bruce got a calculating look on his face and pulled his cowl up.

“There! Make that bigger!” Nico exclaimed, pointing at the current news story that was running in the top corner. Tim blew the tab up to twice it’s normal size and put the volume on.

On the screen was a video of a semi-truck, upside down in a deep, deep ravine, burning and smoking. The headline read: semi-truck failure in Somerset.

“-unfortunately, driver Samuel Evans was killed almost instantly in the windshield-first impact. There were no witnesses around to see exactly what caused the truck to swerve off the road-“

Samuel Evans. Where had Bentley heard that name before? 

“Oh my God,” Nico muttered, bringing his hands up to his mouth. “That’s Asten’s uncle.”

Bentley blinked, looking at the upside down semi-truck. Asten’s uncle was dead, and they’d missed all his calls.

When the elements are pitted against one another, fire always wins.

“This is it,” Bentley muttered. Nico looked over at him, furrowing his brows. 

“What?”

“The Secret Keeper showed me you finding your adoption papers. In that dream I saw a big door in your house that had the Greek gods on it. Hephaestus, god of fire, was destroying everything, and the gods of water and air were trying to save him… and… and in the videos, Dr. Keene talked about powers becoming volatile under emotional stress… The Secret Keeper could see the future, they had it all planned out…” Bentley muttered, swallowing thickly. “This is it — the end my father was talking about.”

Nico swallowed thickly, too. “And you’re saying…”

Bentley looked back at the screen, at the rapidly crumbling buildings behind an upside down semi. The drone moved to a tall building Bentley had seen before, not too long ago, in a dream, with a small figure with blue hair and orange eyes standing on top of it.

“…We have to fight Asten,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[saintharrington]

indecent proposals | eddie munson

warnings: a joking mention of death, fingering (f receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (m receiving), swearing, dirty talk, housewife kink??? i guess. a little. if you squint your eyes. this is content for adults aged 18+, if you are a minor please do not read this.

word count: 4k.

summary: eddie’s hands are too sweaty for his rings, maybe yours will do instead.

notes: i saw this idea on tiktok and it gave me many many thoughts. also count how many synonyms i found for hor i bet there is MANY. also uncut eddie please dont argue with me on this.

im a new blog, writing for ST for the first time so - if you enjoy the fic and want to see more, a follow would be v appreciated !

Summer in Hawkins was an excruciating, unbearable occasion. The sun cast a blazing, humid hell upon the town, rendering it possible to do anything. Things that require no effort felt exhausting; like laying, almost naked on the floor of your boyfriends bedroom.

The heat was exaggerated trapped between these four walls, all efforts of ventilation made in vain, only letting in suffocating streams of firey warmth mix inside the makeshift pressure cooker that was formerly known as Eddie’s trailer.

Your genius idea of lying on the floor slowly made less and less sense, the skin on the back of your bare legs damp and sticking to the ground beneath you, unsticking when you peeled yourself off of it and slumping back besides Eddie.

“I’m melting.” Eddie groused, his voice low and mellow like talking louder would’ve required more energy, “I’m dying and melting into a puddle.“

“Please don’t make me laugh, it’ll make me sweat even more. It’s gross.” You giggled, fanning yourself off with your hands and basking in the short-lived coolness.

His eyes were closed when you shifted to face him, arms and hair splayed above his head as he tilted it towards you, huffing a sigh from his parted lips. Eddie was so effortlessly handsome. Pretty, even, like a masterfully carved sculpture with the way his limbs lay stretched out as if he was posed that way intentionally. Rogue curls slicked to his forehead from the thin layer of sweat, the finishing touches to a masterpiece. His face painted a vacant picture, a pale red glow settled high on his cheeks and dragged over his nose gifted from the sun with his lips lazily growing into a smile when he noticed you staring.

“You’re wearing too many layers.”

“I’m wearing a T-shirt and panties. Stop trying to get me naked, Munson.” You grinned, poking a finger into his bare chest as he chuckled, teeth fully on display under a mischievous smile.

“It’s only fair.” You snorted at his response, knowing full well his intentions, even if he was right - suddenly becoming overly aware of the cotton uncomfortably clinging to your back and sides.

Eddie was trying to get you on his level. A pair of tight fitting plaid boxers resting low on his hips, just above the patch of black hair that trailed up over his abdomen. A few black tattoos littered the area, sketches on his skin that you could probably recreate if you tried from the amount of time you spent admiring them, tracing them with your fingers.

Even his hands were unusually bare. The three chunky rings that he was never seen without were scattered on his dresser, only the thinner band on his opposite hand remained on his ring finger.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.” You mumble, sitting up so you can lift the T-shirt over your head, which probably belonged to Eddie anyway.

Slowly, you grasped the hem of the shirt, inching it higher up your torso and over your breasts, letting your fingers wander over the newly exposed skin before discarding it on the floor next to the building pile of previously discarded clothes.

“Better?” Eddie wasn’t seeking an answer, just laughing to himself as he flitted his eyes up your body, letting them linger on your tits and then to your eyes.

You just smiled sweetly in response, sticking your two middle fingers up at him - a habit stolen from Eddie - before laying back beside him.

“So vulgar for such a pretty girl.” He scolded you, an air of mockery passing through his words, and with his gaze, your skin was burning somehow even hotter than it already was.

It wasn’t a new occurrence that he was calling you pretty girl, and it certainly wasn’t a new occurrence that you lay bare together, but everything combined set your senses alight. It was enough to have you sure the growing wetness at the apex of your thighs wasn’t sweat anymore.

You rolled over to face him, the arm underneath you mirror him, stretched above your head, the other resting on your side, hand covering yourself slightly; just enough so that your nipple was visible through your separated fingers. “You’re the one who taught me such vulgar things, pretty boy.”

Eddie tensed, chuckling to himself. “Yeah?”

The boy looked like his head was gonna explode, pupils dilating at the things running through his mind. All the vulgar things that he had taught you, all the vulgar things that he’s done to you. That you’ve done to him. Fuck, he really had corrupted you, and he loved every god-damn moment of it. He could spend the rest if his life watching you become more like him, turning you into his perfect little slut.

He lifted himself up, running his fingers through the hairs that fanned over his forehead before he hovered over top of you, his weight on his hands that he placed just under your arms. His scent encapsulated you - a mixture of weed, sweat and citrus from your shampoo that he stole. Something so distinctly Eddie Munson that it would only ever occur to you as Eddie, you wished you could bottle it and drown yourself in it.

One of his knees pushed between your legs, pushing it against your clothed pussy - enough that he could feel it pulse against his skin, wetness soaking through the white cotton barrier between the two of you.

You swallowed the excitement coursing through you. It felt like the blood running through your veins had been replaced by the beaming rays of sunlight shining down from above, being pumped through your system at a million miles a minute by your poor heart. She’d probably give in if Eddie looked at you like that any longer.

“Guess that makes you my dirty girl now then, sweetheart.” He mused, tongue dragging over his plump pink lips to wet them. “My pretty, dirty girl.”

“Your girl.” You nodded, eyes pleading with him, hoping he could see how desperate you were getting, hoping he’d give you just the tiniest fraction more of pressure.

Of course Eddie could see it - your desperation. He always could, it was his favourite sight. Which is why he wanted to savour it a little bit longer.

“No, baby. Want you to say it properly.” He spoke softly, one of his hands gravitating towards your throat, tenderly rubbing his thumb along the length of your jaw. He could feel the thrumming of your pulse the further his thumb pushed back.

Eddie sensed the words caught on the tip of your tongue. As if to encourage you, his thumb trailed back up towards your chin - tilting your head up, reaching up to pull your bottom lip out.

Eddie thought you looked so helpless. So pliant, letting him take control like this. “Don’t be shy now. Use your words, wanna hear you say it.”

“Your dirty girl.”

“Uh uh, not good enough.”

Eddie wouldn’t rest until he got the full sentence out of you. He could see you were a little embarrassed, and getting impatient - so his knee jerked forward, light enough so it put just the right amount of pressure on you. Your head fell back, pussy clenching around nothing and your clit positively pulsing as you whined and tried to thrust your hips up for more.

“Pretty, dirty girl.” You choked out, breathless. Voice barely audible as you repeated yourself. “Your pretty, dirty girl.”

“There we go.” Eddie cooed, dropping himself down onto his elbows to connect his lips with yours.

Your fingers thread through his unruly hair, noticing it’s damp at the roots before pulling him somehow even closer into you. The kiss is sloppy in all the best ways, the sticky, sweet remnants of the fruity popsicles that Eddie had been sucking on all day coating your taste buds. You feel his cock press into your thigh, and you have to pull away from the kiss, needing more, more, more.

Eddie’s lips are red and slightly swollen and shiny with a mix of your saliva. He doesn’t need you to tell him what you want. He just presses a prolonged peck to your lips, reluctantly pulling away again before attaching his lips to your neck, peppering a trail of kisses to the base of your throat.

“As much as I love kissing you, sweetheart, I’m gonna skip straight to the good part.” Eddie tells you, his hands slip under the band of your panties, cursing to himself when he feels how wet you are. “Is that okay with you?”

You shake your head frantically, words not forming in your brain through all the fog. If you could think straight, you’re sure you’d be thinking yes, fuck yes.

Eddie keeps his eyes on you as his fingers slip lower, gathering your arousal on the tips of his fingers before circling them around your clit in firm, controlled movements - picking the pace up once you found your voice, the sound of your relieved whimpers filling the room as he picked up the speed.

Two fingers touched around your entrance, pressing against it teasingly as they sunk in deeper. You welcome the familiar stretch, lifting your knees higher to give him more access as he started pumping them into you, hand meeting the roll of your hips. It was heavenly - you have to bite down on the skin on the back of your hand to muffle the moans escaping your throat when you squeeze around his fingers.

But then he stops, all progress made chasing your orgasm lost instantly and pulls his hands out of your panties. You shot up, an exaggerated frown weighing down your features making Eddie tut at you.

“I know, I know. I’ll take care of you in a minute.” He shushed you, an amused look poorly concealed on his face. “M’ fingers are too sweaty, and my rings coming off when i’m touching you because you’re so fuckin’ wet.”

Eddie took your jaw in his hand, tugging it down to leave your mouth hanging open, so he can rest the fingers coated in your arousal against your tongue, pushing them back until the taste of you subsidies, and he’s choking you with his fingers, and you splutter around them, making you reach up to grasp onto his wrist.

He grins as he removes them, loves seeing you look so messy for him. There’s a long string of saliva dripping down your chin, eyes red and glazed over from the gagging. None of the old porn videos stashed under his bed could’ve ever prepared him for you, any and all ideas he’d conjured up in his horny little mind completely surpassed by what you were willing to do for him.

“Take my ring off, baby.” He asks you, shaking his head when your fingers start to fumble with his. “With your mouth.”

It was like a constant assault on your senses with what he kept throwing your way. Your brain was in overdrive, sending out a million different signals to a million different places. Butterflies emerged in your tummy and trying to fight their way up out of your mouth, and journeying down to your cunt which was dripping now, a wet spot soaked through your panties and onto Eddie’s bed. Your heart was gonna beat out of your rib cage from pure and unadulterated anticipation, your clit finding the same rhythm.

He’s looking down at you, hair dangling in front of face. You could see the outline of Eddie’s erection, hard-pressed against the very top of his thigh with their own wet patch forming on the material. Just loose enough to obscure any details, making your mouth water more as you pictured all the intricacies of his cock.

You hear him hiss when you guide his ring finger into your mouth this time, wrapping your lips around it. Your tongue swirls around the tip of his finger, letting it dart down to his knuckle before you suck on it gently, giving your best innocent eyes as you look up at him through your tear logged lashes.

Eddie’s breath stuttered as he watched you, cheeks hollowed out and putting on a show for him. Your tongue traced around the ring, putting more pressure on the gem in the middle of it to twist it up and loosen it before using your teeth to pull it off. You let it sit in your cheek when you pulled his finger out, licking a stripe from the base to the tip as if it was his cock. He had to stifle a moan as he watched it, shaking his head in disbelief.

You put the ring back in his hand, so he could set it aside, but he shook his head again. Instead, he slid it onto your ring finger this time. “Keep it safe for me, love. Think you can do that?”

The ring was too big for your finger, loosely wrapped around your finger - if it was loose on Eddie’s big hands, there was never any chance of it fitting around yours but you nodded like a puppy anyway. The gesture went straight to your cunt, a wave of overwhelming emptiness hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Your eyes flickered from the ring, to Eddie, then back again before you couldn’t take it anymore and lunged yourself at him, smashing your lips together and mumbling a quick “need you so bad” against them. Eddie flew back, his arms coming around your waist to steady you when your chests collided.

Eddie obliged your request - like always, and flipped you around, kneeling behind you. His lips stayed on the back of your neck, cock rubbing against your ass as he angled you, hands on top of yours when he placed them against his headboard.

“Stealing my bad habits, wearing my rings. Really just showing everybody you’re mine, aren’t you?” Eddie asked, and you nodded again.

“All yours Eddie. Always yours.”

It was true. You were always gonna be his, you could feel it in your soul that your heart would always be property of Eddie Munson, no matter the circumstances. Your eyes focused on the ring again, sitting pretty on your ring finger as if it was an actual engagement ring.

You could feel his smile against your skin just as his knee slid between your legs to spread them, his cock pressing even further into your back. The close contact made you shiver, a cool chill - the first cool thing you’d felt all day - skipping down your spine. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, yanking them down til they pooled around your knees.

“Gonna be a good girl for me, darling? Take my cock so good like you always do?” Eddie leaned in close, voice barely higher than a whisper.

“Yes, yes,” You whimpered, pushing your ass further back hoping to find him behind you. It was embarrassing how much you needed it, pussy so wet that it was dripping down your thighs. “Please, Eddie. I’ll be so good, just need- need you to fuck me, please.”

His hand reached between your legs, a flat palm delivering a soft tap to your heat that made you jump before swiping it back, smearing your slick all over his hand. When you looked over your shoulder, he was pumping his cock in the same hand. His shaft was thick, just above average size - a pretty pink pale colour, with his head an angry, contrasting red peaking out from under his foreskin. His pre-cum mixed with yours, a slick sound with every pump.“Hold on to the headboard, baby.”

You brace yourself when his cock slips between your legs, bumping your clit a few times before pushing into you - the stretch so much better than his fingers, that started to dull in comparison.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Fuck, baby.” Eddie hissed, forehead dipping against your back when he bottomed out. He stayed like that for a minute, hands roaming your sides and squeezing your waist to compose himself before he finished right then and there.

Not that it made any difference, you were greedy, thirsting for his cock inside of you ever since you walked in to him shirtless with his hair all pushed back. It was involuntary the way your walls fluttered around him, pulling him somehow deeper as you squeezed him inside of you. You swore you felt so full you could feel his veins twitch inside of you.

“Feel’s so good, Eddie.” You moaned when he pulled back and slammed back into you. This angle had him pressing against new places, like every time he fucked you he found somewhere else to drive you crazy from.

Eddie couldn’t keep his composure for long, only a matter of moments before he was fucking you like a madman, like it were his last conquest. His whines sounding from high in his throat, weak and breathy and delicious.

His eyes caught onto his ring, your hands pressed against the wall, and he picked his pace up again the sounds coming from him changed. Groans deep and guttural at the sight of his jewellery. His claim on you, the grungy fashion of it rather than a dainty, diamond band like he thought about at night, picturing you in a virginal white wedding dress. All poofy and innocent, a princess. His princess.

“You like my ring?” He asked, one of his hands grasping your hair and pulling you back to face him. “Should get you a real one, make you my wife. How about that? Make sure everyone knows you’re mine. My pretty little wife, with her perfect little pussy, oh- shit.” Eddie was breathless, letting his fantasies getting the best of him as they rolled of his tongue.

“Fuck, Eddie. Please. Forever, wanna be yours forever. Want you to fuck me like this forever.” You cried out, chin touching your chest as your head fell.

While his words were sweet, and full of love, his thrusts were unforgiving. The tip of his cock dragging over that sweet spot inside of you that had your thighs quivering, wetness spilling out of you and over Eddie, covering his balls and thighs and it made the sound of impact ricochet off of his walls. His poor neighbours, you thought, probably getting an earful. Listening to Eddie claim you, the idea of them hearing almost made you cum around him instantly.

There was a tightness in your abdomen, familiar and welcomed as it spiralled. Eddie was close too, you could tell by the way his hands groped at your tits, pulling you back into his chest - he had to be as close as possible to you when he came, craved the intimacy of it all. You felt it too, like you could never be close enough to him, always craving something more. Your hands reached behind you and grabbed onto his ass, pulling him into you in time with each thrust.

“Gonna make you my real wife one day, take real good care of you, angel.” He growled, teeth nipping the damp skin of your shoulder. His fingers switched between pinching your nipples and rubbing them with the pads of his fingers, one of them working their way down to toy with your clit.

“You always take care of me,” you shook when you spoke, jerking against him with all the stimulation. “Always make me feel so good, god, make me cum so hard.”

The last part was more of a warning, that ball of tightness in your stomach just teetering on the edge of an ache. Eddie was right there with you, thrusts sloppy and head bowed on your shoulder. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, sweat slicked bodies stuck to each other.

“You can let go darling, wanna feel you cum for me. Please, I fuckin’ need it.”

His voice was so broken, his begging sending you over the edge from hearing how fucked he was. Your eyes pinched shut as you stiffened, a scream filling the air as you came around his cock. His fingers continued their assault on your clit as he rubbed you through your orgasm, pussy clinging onto him as if your life depended on it.

“Atta girl, come on. Give me all of it.” He murmured, slowing his pace as you went limp against his body, gently bringing his thrusts to a stop.

“Want to cum in your mouth, sweet girl. Can’t stop picturing you with my fingers earlier.” He pleaded, eyes rolling back as he watched you kneel on the mattress before him, pressing a loving kiss just above the black tufts of hair decorating his pubic bone.

His cock was covered in your slick, and leaking pearls of silky white precum beading at his slit. He looked so handsome from where you knelt, body shiny with sweat, his mop of hair messy and out of place. “Love this cock,” you moan, gathering the fluid on the tip of your tongue. “Love how it feels in my mouth, how you taste.”

“Stop talking before I cum, you haven’t even put me in ye- oh, jesus fucking christ.”

You had to fight the urge to giggle around him, taking jesus’ name in vain at such an unholy moment, cutting him off mid sentence. All you could taste was yourself as your tongue swirled around his length, taking him fully into your mouth. You’d learn to hum when he hit the back of your throat, it stopped you from gagging, and the vibrations made his thighs tremble and thrusting farther into your mouth.

“Think you were made just for me. Your mouth, your pussy, everything. Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.” He strained, jaw straining as he gritted his teeth, grabbing your head to hold it still.

You thought that too. Thought you were put onto this earth to love that boy, to take care of him. Built to please him.

The warning came just in time, his cum spurting down the back of your throat as you swallowed around him, taking every last drop he could give before sitting back on your knees.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Eddie said, catching his breath before pulling you into a sweet embrace. Kissing your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose before pressing a kiss against your swollen lips. “So amazing.”

“Yeah, you tell me all the time.” You giggle, returning the kiss before laying down to recover. Eddie just grinned at you, leaning down to kiss your stomach before wandering off to the bathroom to find a towel, muttering something about him being so lucky on the way.

He cleaned you up when he returned, crawling on top of you and resting against your chest - head nestled between your tits, his breath tickling your skin. You basked in the comfort, so content with the boy laying there with you. Your fingers threaded into his curly hair, fiddling with the strands as you enjoyed the silence between you. It was comfortable, no awkwardness, just a sweet moment between two lovers completely and utterly smitten with each other.

You only just noticed his ring again as you made small pleats in his hair, all of those things Eddie said about making you his wife coming back to your mind. You smiled, wider than you probably ever had before, glad to know that was something he thought about, that he wanted to commit to you like that.

“So, Munson. When are you gonna propose?” You laughed, feeling him chuckle into your skin too.

“Was that not good enough for you, sweetheart?”

“Hmm, didn’t think you were serious. Too horny to think straight.” You joke, only half meaning it.

“I’ll do it so much better than that, don’t you worry. But you can keep my ring for now.” He said, lifting his head to look at you. “Think of it as my promise to you.”

[chelseachilly]

king of my heart - pt 1

i’m perfectly fine, i live on my own  i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to. You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers. Until now. warnings: mentions of death of a parent, takes place in a fantasy world in which chelsea will plausibly beat arsenal this season word count: 2.5k

author’s note: hi! i’m very new to the tumblr football world but needed a distraction from chelsea’s current situation, so here we are! i’ve noticed there aren’t enough fics for ben and this is my first time writing for him, pls let me know what you think and feel free to hmu about all things chelsea :) title from king of my heart by taylor obv

*faceclaims for y/n and your best friend are camila morrone and suki waterhouse bc i am obsessed with daisy jones and the six lmao

Of all the men in London, Ben Chilwell would’ve been extremely low on the list of who you would expect to meet at a random party your friend dragged you to.

You know who he is, obviously - your younger brother is a massive Chelsea fan, as was your dad before he passed away unexpectedly a couple years ago - but you hardly run in the same circles as professional footballers.

Until now.

A few months ago, your flatmate and best friend Charlotte got an amazing new job in PR. Since then, she’s been invited to a million fancy events and met a lot of famous (and semi-famous) people. Just last week, she went to the opening of a new club and apparently met some incredible, funny, super attractive guy who invited her to a party at his house tonight.

Although you’ve been really trying to push yourself to go out more lately and enjoy being young in the city, your idea of a perfect Friday night is often just staying in and reading or watching Netflix, so you still take some convincing.

“Charlotte, do you even know anything about this Mason guy?” You ask as Charlotte begins to put her makeup on in the bathroom of your shared flat, a tiny but cute two-bed in North London. “Like, his last name, his job, anything?”

“Nope,” Charlotte shrugs. “But I know he’s fit, and probably posh because the address he gave me is in South Kensington.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a gold digger now?”

“I’m not, but posh means open bar,” Charlotte grins. “Now hurry up and get ready.”

You reluctantly drag yourself up off the floor and go to your closet to put on your favourite little black dress - a safe bet for any party, regardless of how casual or fancy it might be.

After doing your hair and makeup and taking a couple shots to ease any social anxiety brewing in your stomach, Charlotte calls an Uber and you’re on your way. You quickly post a photo of the two of you before you leave.

yourusername

liked by charlottewright, yourmum, & 102 others

yourusername by the way, we’re going out tonight ✨

tagged: charlottewright

view all comments

charlottewright hell yeahhhh

yourmum Beautiful girls! xx

yourusername thanks mum x

When you reach the address this Mason guy gave Charlotte, there’s music blaring from the house. Several very expensive-looking sports cars are parked outside, and there are a few people sitting on the front steps, drinking and laughing.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Charlotte says as your car pulls up. She can obviously tell that you’re worried about socializing with all these strangers, especially ones way above your tax bracket. “We’ll get some drinks and have fun. Hey, maybe Mason has some cute friends he can introduce you to?”

You roll your eyes. Dating is far from a priority for you at the moment, having just begun the career in publishing that you’ve wanted since you were a little girl. Work is your focus, but you know Charlotte is right. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Before you can even fully get out of the car, still straightening out your dress and making sure you have your phone and purse, you hear Charlotte yell “Mason!” and run over to the group of people on the steps.

As you follow her and finally get a good look at the guy Charlotte won’t shut up about, you nearly trip over your own feet.

You recognize him instantly - Mason Mount, Chelsea midfielder. You may not follow the club the way you used to before your dad died two years ago, but you remember watching Mount score a hat trick during one of the last games you went to.

Charlotte doesn’t follow football at all, so you figure she also has no idea that standing next to Mason are his England national teammates Declan Rice and Jude Bellingham.

You, however, can’t help but be a little starstruck. Football was a big part of your life growing up, and it’s a bit surreal to see all these athletic superstars right in front of you.

Thankfully, they’re all occupied with Charlotte and don’t seem to notice you until you regain your bearings and walk over to Charlotte’s side.

“Y/N, this is Mason and Declan,” Charlotte grins. “And what was your name again, sorry?”

“Jude,” Bellingham answers, smiling at you and shaking your hand. “What’s your name, love?”

“Y/N,” you answer, trying not to blush at the attention as Mason and Declan greet you.

“Well, come on in, ladies,” Mason smiles, gesturing to the front door. “Bar’s in the back, and there’s loads of food in the kitchen.”

As Mason leads the way into the house, which is just as massive and stunning as its exterior, you hang back a bit and grip Charlotte’s arm tightly.

“What is it?” Charlotte asks, furrowing her eyebrow.

“Charlotte, they’re not just posh, they’re footballers,” you explain, gesturing to the literal Champions League trophy casually sitting on a shelf. “Like, some of the best in the country.”

“Footballers?” Charlotte’s eyes widen for a moment. “Oh my god, so you know who they are?”

“Yeah, babes,” you chuckle. “Mason plays for Chelsea. I’ve watched him play for Chelsea.”

Charlotte’s face falls a bit, and she lowers her voice. “Oh, shit, do you want to leave? I know Chelsea was your thing with your dad-“

“No, no,” you wave her off with a small smile. “It’s alright, let’s have fun. He is super fit, and he probably finds it endearing that you clearly have no idea who he is.”

“Now that I think about it, he did mention having training in the morning last weekend. I think I asked what he was training for.” Charlotte laughs. “Shit, that’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Nah, he seems into you,” you comment, noting the way Mason’s eyes are glued to Charlotte as the two of you continue to speak privately. “Now go talk to him, I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Charlotte nods and returns to Mason’s side. God, it feels strange to see your best friend chatting up a guy you watched play in the World Cup on TV a few months ago.

You make your way to the back garden, weaving your way through lots of guys - some of whom you recognize as other footballers - and lots of very pretty girls. As promised, there is a full-service bar outside, and you order a vodka coke for yourself.

Thanking the bartender, you decide to stay out here for a few minutes. You’ll return to the party eventually, but you want to give Charlotte some alone time with Mason and despite your assurances that everything is fine, it’s a lot to digest being in the home of an actual Chelsea player.

Most of the partygoers are inside, with only a few people out back having a smoke or going to the bar. You find yourself a quiet spot in the back of the garden and sit on a patio chair, crossing your legs and leaning back as you enjoy your drink.

You pull out your phone and can’t resist pulling up and old photo of you and your dad at a Chelsea match when you were six years old, both of you smiling in blue. Although it’s difficult to look at, it makes you smile, too - you remember how Chelsea beat Liverpool 3-0 that day and how happy your dad was on the drive home. You’ll always treasure those memories.

“Hey, mind if I sit?”

A male voice prompts you to glance up from your phone. It really shouldn’t surprise you to see yet another familiar face at this point, but the man in front of you nearly takes your breath away.

You recognize him right away - the shiny dark hair, the piercing eyes - he’s unmistakable. He’s even more handsome in person than on TV, if that’s possible. Ben fucking Chilwell.

“Yeah, go for it,” you say, gesturing to the other chair and trying very hard not to stare at him too much.

Ben, who is holding a beer and wearing a hoodie and jeans with a pair of Air Force Ones, looks fascinatingly normal to you for someone who you know for a fact scored a Premier League goal just this afternoon - your sixteen year-old brother Max mentioned it when you spoke earlier, still as big of a Chelsea fan as your dad was. Luckily, losing your dad didn’t poison the game for him the way it did you.

“I’m Y/N,” you blurt out, feeling the need to explain yourself and your presence here for some reason. “I came with my flatmate Charlotte, she met Mason at some club last week.”

“I’m Ben,” he says with a small smile. “Mase and I…uh, work together.”

“Yeah, I know,” you chuckle. When he raises an eyebrow, you continue - there’s really no point in sitting here pretending you don’t know who he is. “My brother’s a massive Chelsea fan.”

“Ah,” Ben smiles, taking a swig of his beer. “Charlotte didn’t seem to have any idea who we were last weekend.” He seems to realize he may have come off a bit arrogant there, as he quickly shakes his head. “Not that she should. I was just-“

“All good,” you interject. “And for the record, I love her to death, but Charlotte thought Man City was a gay bar a couple weeks ago. She’s not much of a football fan.”

Ben laughs so hard he nearly spits out some of his beer, and you can’t help but laugh along with him - his smile is completely contagious. It also seems to be the first genuine one you’ve seen since he sat down.

“Fair enough,” he laughs, setting down his beer and turning his chair to face you properly. “So, Y/N, what brings you to this secluded corner of the garden? Not enjoying yourself?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Chilwell,” you smirk, taking a sip of your cocktail.

Frankly, you’re impressed with how cool you’re being given the situation. It’s not even the fact that he’s famous. Sure, you were starstruck at first, but now you just can’t stop looking at him. At those hands clutching the cold beer bottle, that fluffy hair that you’re dying to reach out and touch, those damn eyes…

“Well, I’m a bit knackered, to be honest,” he admits. “But I wanted to come out and celebrate the win. Honestly, I’m waiting til it’s late enough that I can leave without the lads calling me an old man at training on Monday.”

You laugh and nod sympathetically.

“I get what you mean. I kinda got dragged out tonight as well,” you say. “I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to a bunch of strangers after a long work day, but Charlotte wanted me here and she’s my best friend, so-“

“I’m happy to leave you alone if you’d prefer it,” Ben says quickly. “Well, not happy, but I can. If that’s what you want.”

You shake your head, maybe a bit too quickly.

“No, please,” you smile. “I was in budget meetings all day, but you scored a goal against Arsenal. I think that earns you a spot to sit.”

Ben raises an eyebrow and grins. “Sounds like you’re a fan as well, no?”

“I’m…not not a fan.” He looks confused, so you decide to elaborate a bit. “My dad was a massive supporter. We were season tickets holders at Stamford Bridge until he died a couple years ago. My brother, he’s sixteen, still follows the team, and he keeps me updated, but I haven’t really…well, it hasn’t been quite the same for me since then.”

Though you still miss your dad dearly, time has healed the pain enough for you to be able to talk about him like this. Although, you did have to stare at your shoes the whole time to get through it, and when you look up, Ben’s eyes are wide and full of concern.

You immediately worry that you just majorly overshared with this complete stranger.

“Sorry, you didn’t need to know all that,” you murmur, fiddling with the material of your dress. “I don’t even know you-“

“No, please don’t apologize,” Ben says in a much softer tone than he was using before. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you say with a sad smile. He holds your gaze, and you can’t help but feel comforted by his warm expression. Then, all of a sudden, a laugh escapes your lips, surprising Ben. “Sorry, I just…I was thinking about what my dad would say if he knew I was talking to the man he once described as ‘the best left-back in the country’ at a party.”

“Wow, that’s high praise,” Ben smiles. “Your dad sounds pretty great.”

“He was, but I love that your reason for thinking that is him praising you as a footballer,” you laugh softly. “To be fair, he was a big fan of Mount and Havertz as well.”

“Oh, well, never mind then,” Ben jokes, making you laugh even harder.

Probably harder than you’ve laughed in years.

The conversation continues as you each finish your drinks, and after Ben gets you a couple more rounds. You talk about everything - your job in publishing, his life growing up, both of your favourite films and music.

You don’t even realize how late it is until you see a much drunker Charlotte come outside with Mason keeping her upright. Despite her protests that she’s fine, you and Mason both agree you’d better get her home and to bed. After giving her some water, Mason calls an Uber for both of you, and in all the commotion, you barely get the chance to say goodbye to Ben.

It’s not until you get home and take care of Charlotte that you realize you didn’t even get his number. You could get Charlotte to ask Mason for it tomorrow, you suppose, but you don’t want to come across as desperate.

You aren’t even looking for a relationship. You just happened to meet a cute, funny, smart guy at a party who probably has girls lining up around the block just to sleep with him. It’s not like this is going to turn into anything.

Right?

-

You wake the next morning in Charlotte’s bed - you passed out next to her after making sure she had water and a bin next to her in case she got sick - to a loud buzzing sound.

“Too early,” Charlotte grumbles, feeling the beginnings of a bad hangover. “Turn it off.”

You reach over to the bedside table to silence your phone, but you quickly glance at the Instagram notification before you turn it off.

benchilwell

Hey, I found your insta through Charlotte’s, sorry if that’s stalkery lol

benchilwell

I had a lot of fun last night. Any chance you want to hang out again sometime?

“Oh my god,” you mumble groggily. “Ben Chilwell just slid into my DMs.”

Charlotte, still half-asleep, rubs her eyes and turns to face you. “Who the fuck is Ben Chilwell?”

next chapter 💙

[stardustandash]

What did you think of the Bad Batch finale?

An excellent question to mark one week since the show ended!!

I have mixed feelings about it. While I’m happy with the ending and the choices they made with the show, I’m left feeling unsatisfied in its wake. There were a lot of threads left to explore, and I wish that this last season had been spread out over two. In places it felt rushed, while in others it felt like we were still getting the same kind of pacing we got in previous seasons.

In particular I do wish we got to see more of Emerie’s arc, her relationship to Hemlock, and the evils of Tantiss. I almost wanted Palpatine to come back in the second half just to really set up the project Necromancer plotline. More set up for the Empire is always fun to see. Also would have been nice to understand just how much Omega and the Batch fucked up old Palpy’s plans by freeing the Zillo beast and trashing the place. I also wish we got more of Emerie’s backstory (and I’m already writing fic about it lol.)

I also wished we got more of the batch all together, and Omega got moments with all her brothers. It really felt like the Crosshair show, and while I LOVED his arc this season, with how little time we got with the show there wasn’t really room for Wrecker and Hunter to have their moments with Omega.

AND SPEAKING OF WRECKER!! Wish my boy could have had a more visible arc. He does shift over time in his characterization, but it’s very subtle. Another season would’ve given him a chance to take the spotlight too.

… and on that note why did they bench Echo for most of the season. I get they’re probably trying to set up the next animated show, but I really feel like having Echo there, torn between going with Rex and freeing other clones or sticking with the batch after Tech’s loss and trying to find Omega would’ve been really interesting.

Most of my complaints are about how it felt like we didn’t have enough time to dig into all the ideas brought up over the course of the season. Other than that I’m pretty happy with how things played out and the creative direction they took. I do think the first two episodes were the strongest, and the clock motif was one of my favourite parts. A part of me secretly still thinks Through Darkness Unknown was better, but it probably isn’t to the average person lol.

Thanks so much for asking!!

[hauntingcryptids]

Soft Spot In The Hearts Of A Murderer

Simm!Master x Reader

Summary - The reader has a panic attack after hearing people being killed day after day on The Valiant, and The Master comforts them.

Based On This Request - Anonymous requested - “Hi! May I ask for a soft fic with The Master where they hypnotise The Reader?”

Warnings -The Year That Never Was, The Reader has a panic attack/anxiety attack, hypnotism, hypnotism without consent, canon typical violence

Word Count - 1095

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Requested by this lovely anon. I will link the other fics inspired by this request HERE, if you would like to read them. I hope that you enjoy!

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

For some reason, The Master allowed you to roam the halls of The Valient unaccompanied, maybe with the supervision of a guard or two, but usually, you could just go your merry way around the ship. However, you rarely ever did this. You never wanted to see what was occurring on the Earth down below, you didn’t want to see the Toclafane unleash a flurry of lasers onto Humanity, and you didn’t want to see what The Master had done to any of your friends. 

You were a coward. Or, at least, you thought that. Martha was Gods-know-where, her family were being used, and everyone aboard was being tortured and degraded, except for you. And you couldn’t do anything to stop The Master because you were so crippled with fear.

The past couple of days you have been staying in your room all instead of roaming The Valiant on occasion. You assumed that no one would notice your absence. Unbeknownst to you, though, The Master was causing hell to everyone around him whenever he didn’t see you. He constantly tried to escape the day’s plans, but apparently destroying the planet Earth and scouring it for a “fugitive” was difficult and time-consuming work. But eventually, the day was mostly over, and The Master was free to spend some time with you, just in time for dinner.

The Master made his way past random Valiant guards and security toward your room. He thought about what he would order for dinner in order to impress you, which he desperately wanted to do. He had absolutely no idea about how you were feeling or why you were absent today. But if he had been aware, he would’ve spent the entire day trying to cheer you up and make you feel special.

A gentle knock on your door startled you away from your anxious mind. You thought that you might just ignore it, as it was probably just a guard. But then there was another set of knocking, and you noticed the rhythm. Was it like that before? You couldn’t tell. And again: knock knock knock knock. You rushed to the door, worried that you had waited too long and now The Master would be upset with you. You had never seen him upset with you, but he always seemed upset when he was with someone else. He would probably be upset with you at some point, so why not now. 

You opened the door tentatively.

“Ah! Y/n, it’s lovely to finally see you.” The Master smiled at you, but his eyes looked clouded with latent rage. You cursed yourself. You should have gone out of your room today to see him. 

“I missed you today.” The Master up again when you didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise. We all have reclusive days. I just hope that I haven’t done anything wrong to worsen your mood.” The Master entered your room without asking you and instantly began looking around. He actually wasn’t trying to be intrusive, he just wanted to get to know you better. And maybe if he knew you better, then he would know the best way to get you to love him.

“No, no of course you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n.” The Master suddenly stopped looking through the bookshelf he had gifted you, trying to see which books you have read, and he turned to face you.

“I don’t know what -”

“I know that my presence here hasn’t been the most comforting. I have destroyed your planet and terrorized your people and I have, frankly, been a right menace aboard The Valiant, especially when there are some political manoeuvres that I have to plan. All I am saying is that I would completely understand why you would hate me, Y/n.” It almost looked as if The Master’s eyes softened as he spoke, but you assumed that it was a trick of the light.

You didn’t know how to respond. You wanted to say something brave, something calling out The Master’s horrible behaviour, but nothing formed because your anxiety seemed to be controlling everything at the moment. You were too scared that this was all a trap and that The Master would kill you after you revealed your true feelings. But then a rolling thunder sounded around The Valiant.

“What was that?”

“Oh, just the evening patrol.” The Master nonchalantly responded. 

You felt your chest tighten. You immediately thought of Martha. What if this was the moment she was caught and killed? You could have done so much during your time aboard this ship, yet you did nothing. 

The Master was saying something, but you couldn’t hear him over the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears. Your breath began to quicken and heave. You suddenly felt incredibly dizzy, and the room looked like it was spinning. You tried to move to a nearby chair, but you missed the seat and stumbled onto the ground. You heard The Master calling your name, but you were unable to respond; you were far too focused on the anxiety attack you were having and the horrible thoughts circling around your mind.

“Hey. No. Don’t do that. Everything is going to be fine, sweetheart.” You shook your head ‘no’. Things did not feel fine. The Master joined you on the floor and stroked your arms and face soothingly. He hated seeing you like this. Is this how you acted when he wasn’t around? Did he cause you to be in this much pain? The Master never wanted you to hide anything from him, even your bad thoughts. The Master just wanted to comfort you and know the real you.

“Look into my eyes. Everything will be calmer in a moment.” The Master held your face softly in his hands and brushed his thumbs across your temples. You met the commanding alien's gaze tentatively. His eyes were beautiful; they were a warm brown with green specks and waves rolling through his irises. You never noticed that before.

A calm rushed over you. You were no longer plagued by the thoughts of Martha dying or that you were not being brave enough or that you were not being a good companion to The Doctor. You were so calm and relaxed in fact that you felt your body grow limper. You fell into The Master’s chest. He brought two of his fingers to your chin and gently moved your face to look at him.

“Now, tell your Master what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

[lokischocolatefountain]

Purpose

Fandom: The Last of Us

Word count: 12.7k

Rating: PG13 for violence (Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, mention of sexual harassment, minor character deaths, major character death, death of a child, grief, blood and gore)

Summary: “I think if he (Joel) could do anything or be anything, he would be a dad, raising his daughter. Whether it’s Sarah or— he can’t quite get there yet to say it’s Ellie but that's what he was put on this Earth to do. That’s why he’s been wandering around a little like a zombie himself for 20 years. He’s trying to find his purpose because it was taken from him.” -Craig Mazin

A/N: I’ve been writing bits and pieces of this for moooonths! Since the last episode aired. So I really really hope you guys like it. I love all the Joel & Ellie fics out there but there’s a hole in my heart where the Joel & Sarah fics should be. So here you go, a one shot of Joel Miller and his purpose in life, how he earned it and how he lost it.

20th July 1989

What do you want to be when you grow up?

It was a question that adults asked way too many times. Way too casually. It was as though they had forgotten what it felt like to be a teenager with a whole world of possibilities, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be everything from an astronaut to an actor. They never accepted the answer they got from the kids. At least that was Joel’s experience. They always laughed when he said he wanted to be a singer. That’s not a real job, they’d say. So, he made up something that he didn’t even want to do.

Accountant. That’s what he told people he’d become. He didn’t even know what that job entailed. He just blurted it out, possibly because his new classmate’s dad was an accountant and that was the first thing that came to his mind. And because it was a real job unlike singer.

That also didn’t quite cut it for adults. You need to be good at math for that. They were right. He was no good at it. As he sat on the hospital chair, too afraid to move or breathe, he wished he’d been better at math. Maybe that would’ve gotten him a better job than building. He’d be in an office and make enough money for this.

The baby stirred in his arms and let out a low whine and his heart almost fucking stopped. She was so little, so fucking fragile. One wrong move and she could wake up. His mother told him to put her back in the crib, so did the mother of the girl who was fast asleep on the hospital bed. His mother-in-law. But he couldn’t. He was afraid that once he put her down, she’d disappear. She would. Both their parents were in contact with some adoption people and they were going through a list of names of respectable men and women with respectable jobs and good loving homes. There were some accountants on the list. They were probably good at math and didn’t have to get yelled at everyday for buying the wrong valves and choosing the wrong brand of grout. The prospective fathers were all at least a decade older than he was.

But he couldn’t put her down.

So he stayed awake on the chair throughout the night, his back hurting just a little but his heart full.

Wanting to be a singer was just a childish fantasy. Accounting was just something he made up to look serious in the eyes of grown ups. There were other ideas too— soccer player, fireman, cop. None of them felt right.

And what was it they always said about jobs? Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life? He’d never loved anything. Until now. Never found a purpose. Until now.

He cradled her close to his chest, supporting her tiny soft head with his hand. Fuck, her head was so little, so soft. His large hands already marked up by construction jobs felt unworthy of touching such pureness.

Sarah.

He can’t give her away. Not after the name popped into his head. He didn’t know why, couldn’t explain it to anyone who asked. But she was Sarah.

Sarah Miller, he thought when he realized he had a purpose for the first time in his life.

They told him he can’t do it, that he shouldn’t. They told him he didn’t know the first thing about babies. The girl he got pregnant— his wife—is hurt, said he can’t go back on their promise to give the baby up for adoption so that she can go back to school to be a lawyer. She said it will ruin her life and he had to agree. It will. The innocent little thing that continued sleeping on his lap did kind of ruin her life. She had to take a break fro, school, put up with morning sickness and bloating and back pain and fucking everything because of the baby. Raising her for 18 years? That would be the nail on the coffin of her dreams.

But he wasn’t the dreaming kind.

“I ain’t askin’. I know it’s not fair to ya. You already done everythin’, but…” I can’t imagine a life without Sarah. He had known her for less than 10 hours and life already seemed meaningless without her in it. “I’ll do it myself, okay? You don’t gotta do anything. You never have to visit. I just… I can’t give her up, darlin’. I promise I won’t rope you into this. I’ll fuckin’ disappear, never call you or write to you.”

“Joel…”

His mother thought she was a cruel girl to want to leave her baby behind when he, the father, stepped up to provide. But he had no feelings of anger towards her. They made a promise to each other. He was the one who broke it, not her. He would break all his promises to everyone in his life, no matter what, just to be his little girl’s dad.

“We’re too young.”

He nodded. He knew that. He’d been an adult for a grand total of four years and most of it, he’d spent drinking and working on construction. No transferable skills there. He was still kind of a kid and knew fuck all about raising a whole new person. The prospect was terrifying. It was even more terrifying to lose her, though. It felt like if he was taken away from his baby girl, he would fucking die.

“It’ll be harder to do anything. Parties, work, college, sleep. Everything will be harder.”

“Yeah,” he croaked, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He was only now old enough to legally get very drunk and illegally continue smoking joints in the storage shed with his friends. They had only recently bought themselves a proper plate and silverware. Eating out of the pot used to be more than enough before.

He’d just started taking care of himself. Just started doing his laundry in the local laundromat instead of driving his dirty clothes all the way to his parents’ for his mom to wash and fold up for him. He’d just started separating his whites from his coloured clothes.

It felt like his heart could fucking leap out of his chest when he wrote it down.

Name: Sarah Miller

Father’s name: Joel Miller

When I grow up, I want to be a father. This would not have been an acceptable answer to the adults. They liked hearing that from little girls, but not from boys. Adults thought boys should have more ambition than that. Fuck, he was an adult. Fuck. Fucking hell.

She asked for a divorce, reluctant and scared. He could tell she still loved him. It may have been their parents’ idea for them to marry, but they did have a good 7 months of marriage. They were friends, kind of. Despite the young parenthood and the anger about damaged condoms and who was responsible for getting drunk enough to have sex using a broken condom, they didn’t fight much. In another world, they would have been a good couple. Not this one. Losing her hurt, but he had to choose between her and his baby.

He signed the papers.

She visited the baby a few times, but never held her. Her older sister dropped off breast milk from her a few times and he was so grateful. He heard that it was very important for the baby’s health. He gave her formula, but this was more important according to the doctor. She said the mother’s milk had some stuff in it that the baby really needed. He didn’t know what the hell it was, he tried his best to remember the complicated words but they didn’t stick. He was just happy that Sarah could be healthy.

3rd August 1989

Bullshit. What a load of bullshit.

Do something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life? He wanted to backhand whoever said that.

“I got you baby, Daddy’s got you,” he said, rubbing her back as she cried into his chest. “Here’s your bottle. Just a few seconds and you’ll have your milk, okay?”

Tommy looked at him like he was a space alien. Yeah it was fucking weird, alright. He was in his shorts in the kitchen, wearing a smelly t-shirt and talking to his baby who didn’t know how to reply. But what did Tommy know? He didn’t have to be the one with no human company other than a little baby who didn’t know shit about shit.

He loved Sarah. He never knew what love was until Sarah. He thought he loved his parents, he might love Tommy just a little even though he was fucking annoying and got into trouble all the time. He fell in love a few times before Sarah’s mom and he was in love with Sarah’s mom. But maybe he didn’t love them. He didn’t love any of them. They should either invent a new word for whatever he felt for Sarah or a new, less stronger word for what he felt for every other person.

He really truly loved her. But that still didn’t make him feel like he wasn’t working. This was the most work he had ever done in his life. Even the sleepless week he spent building that shop, fuelled by energy drinks and coffee to afford baby clothes and medicines when his then wife was 8 months pregnant didn’t come close.

Sarah woke up crying all the goddamn time.

He knew babies always cried. They couldn’t talk or write or do anything else to communicate. So they cried. But it always felt like a personal failure when she did. Like he was the bad dad everyone expected a 22 year old single father to be.

“She always do that?” Tommy asked when Sarah finally quietened down as she sucked on the bottle he held to her mouth.

“Pretty much. She can’t talk or nothin’, so…”

Tommy nodded and then yawned. God, this boy. Joel had a lot to worry about now and everything he worried about involved Sarah. But he couldn’t not worry about his baby brother. Before he was a father, he was Tommy’s big brother and he will never stop worrying about him. He always got himself into trouble trying to do something good, something noble. The latest one was talkin’ ‘bout enlisting in the fuckin’ army.

He seemed to really really want to be in the army, but that didn’t say much. Tommy really really wanted to do fucking everything. While Joel was the brother with no strong ambitions other than Sarah, Tommy was the brother with too many ambitions. He fought off kids bigger than him if they bullied his classmates, spoke up against teachers who said somethin’ racist, punched a grown man for looking at his female friend wrong. And it was always on Joel to rescue him.

He would run off to a bunch of wars to protect his stupid little brother again. But for the first time he didn’t want to. He had a purpose now. His baby brother needed saving all the time, but his baby needed him for everything.

Tommy would have to handle himself. No big brother to shield him from bullets.

“Don’t fuck up, alright? Ma don’t need that now. I’m already fuckin’ up and she don’t need you to fuck up too.”

“You’re not fuckin’ up, Joel. Ma loves Sarah,” Tommy says, his voice soft as he gently taps Sarah’s cheek with his finger. She looks up at her Uncle Tommy and he swears she’s a little annoyed at him for disturbing her third dinner time. There was no way he was imagining that. He didn’t know if babies were smart enough to be annoyed, but Sarah was. She was a smart one. Tommy had to see that too.

“Yeah yeah, sorry,” Tommy laughed as he apologized to her. He could see it, Tommy also loved Sarah. He was an Uncle and shit. His baby brother, an Uncle. Wild.

Of course Ma loved Sarah. Everyone loved Sarah. He didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at his baby girl and not fall in love immediately.

“I’m serious, Tommy. Don’t fu—” Fuck! No swearing. Ma warned that if he kept swearing around the baby, her first word might be fuck or shit or goddamn it. “Don’t mess up, okay?” He quickly corrected himself.

“Ma loves Sarah, but that don’t make me any less of a failure. I’m a twenty one year old divorced single father with no chances to go to college and no prospects other than construction. You gotta be better than that.”

He nodded, looking stern and a little too grown up for his age. He was too grown up to be an uncle, too grown to be shipped off God knows where to shoot at other kids but it was what it was. “Yeah…”

After a couple minutes of silence, Tommy spoke up again. “At least she won’t bug me for grandkids, right? You already gave her one.”

“Yeah, the perfect one. Gonna be difficult for your future kid to meet Ma’s high expectations.” He said, smirking. He was never competitive. Never did anything just to be better than someone else at it. The age gap between him and Tommy made him more of of protective older brother than a competitive one. But he was pitting Tommy’s non-existent kid against his baby and it didn’t even feel wrong.

“Fuck you, dude,” he laughed.

“No swearing ‘round her. Don’t want her first word to be that.”

Tommy burst out laughing. “It’ll be funny, though. Just imagine that in a little baby voice.”

He chuckled and conceded, “Yeah, it’ll be funny. But I’m serious. No swearing.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

25th December 1989

“Look at that! Ain’t it pretty?” He cooed, exaggerating the beauty of the scene in front of him. Her eyes were brighter than any Christmas light on the tree in the living room. They were brighter than the sun and the moon and all the stars in the night sky he pointed out to her.

She was wrapped up in several layers of clothes. For a baby, she had too many clothes and it was a pain in the ass to wash and fold. But she looked so adorable in all those layers. It was like she was a soft, formless ball.

He laughed as she moved her arms around and bounced on the couch. She was propped up by two pillows and he put a couple more on the floor just in case. He wouldn’t let her fall, but just in case. She pointed at the bauble he plucked off the Christmas tree, her baby bird-like mouth forming into a little O shape. She laughed and reached her arms out for it. He let her touch it. How could he not when she looked at it like it was the most wonderful thing in the universe.

She looked at everything like it was the most wonderful thing in the world.

He picked her up from her fortress of pillows and held her on his waist, carrying her closer to the tree. Carefully, he placed her higher on top of him, her legs on his shoulders and her hands gripping his hair for dear life. The mirror above the fireplace framed them like a photograph, their first Christmas together. One hand still on his hair, she reached out for a bauble, a present from an aunt for his shotgun wedding.

It should make him sad, but he found himself…happy. Sure, life would be easier if he had Pam to share the duties of parenthood. Sure it was shit to be a divorcee at the age of twenty two. But he had Sarah at the end of the marriage and that was worth everything.

While he was preoccupied with the meaning behind the ornament, his daughter was completely unconcerned with events that occurred before her birth. She inspected the ornament with a kind of gentleness he hadn’t seen in many babies— he remembered Tommy to be the kind to break things with his enthusiasm and cry over the destruction he’d wreaked. Sarah tapped on it gently with her hand and squealed with delight.

“It’s cool, huh?” He said, making conversation with her. She hummed in response and moved to an unusual ornament shaped like a butterfly, her eyes wide with curiosity and her fingers cautiously inspecting the antlers. Father and child stood in front of the Christmas tree all night long, inspecting every single ornament and making conversation in the language only they knew to speak.

If she loved the tree so much, he decided, he’d keep it in the living room in the fucking summer. Who said you couldn’t have a Christmas tree in June? He fucking loved being her dad.

18th January 1990

He fucking hated being a dad.

He would never let her know. God, he would never ever tell her that.

“Daddy’s got you, daddy’s got you. Everything is fine, baby girl.”

It was like she didn’t even hear him. She kept crying those heartbreaking, soul-crushing cries. He gave her the medicines that the doctor told him to buy. He did fucking everything but she still wouldn’t stop crying. He had to be doing something wrong. He told Ma that, but she said that was how babies were and he just had to take care of her, hold her close and wait for her temperature to go down.

But what until then?

“Ma! Ma, she won’t stop crying.”

“Did you give her the medicines?” His mother’s drowsy voice came through the phone. He shouldn’t be disturbing her after the day she had, but he couldn’t be bothered about her comfort. His baby was crying, goddamn it!

“Yeah, I did. Still won’t stop,” he said, his voice breaking and he bounced the baby, hoping that would soothe her.

“Did you check her temperature?”

“Yeah. Hundred and two.”

“It’s gone down then. She’s getting better.”

“Why’s she still cryin’ then?”

He was a grown man, a father, but god he felt like a fuckin’ kid again. He wanted his Ma. He wanted her to drive all the way to his place and tell him what to do to fix her, make her pain go away.

“That’s how it is, Joel. This is normal. I’ll be there in the morning when your old man can drive me, okay? She’ll get better, kid. Don’t worry too much.”

Ma was right, she did get better. But it was the worst night of his life and he would put her in a medically sealed safe room for the rest of her life just to never have to relive it.

She got sick again, of course. She was a kid and as he learned, kids were germ magnets. It was intolerable and it made him hate being a father. That made him feel guilty. It was stupid, he knew that. What could he even do? Punch germs in the face? Throw hands with the daycare mom who didn’t vaccinate her kid who ended up coughing on his baby girl?

He hated what being a father made him think and do. He felt unhinged, irrational. But it never felt wrong. And he never hated being her father. This was his purpose and he didn’t mind being a fuckin’ psycho who thought of fighting the baby who gave his baby a fever.

28th April 1991

“Can I have one, please?”

Joel brought the hammer down on the nail, looking up every now and then for glimpses of his daughter sitting on her uncle’s lap.

She looked at Tommy with her perfect angel eyes, hand messy and gripped around a disgusting soggy cookie she’d soaked with her saliva. She shook her head at Tommy before putting the cookie back in her mouth.

“Please? Uncle Tommy is hungry. And your dad won’t feed me.” He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes, but his baby girl didn’t budge. She hugged the packet of cookies close to her chest like Tommy was gonna snatch it from her and it made both of them laugh. He dropped his hammer on the floor and walked up to them.

He got on his knees next to Tommy’s chair and looked at her. “Please can I have one? Daddy’s hungry.”

She took her cookie out of her mouth and stretched her hand out to him. He leaned in, no hesitation and took the entire soggy piece in his mouth.

“Duuuude! Seriously? I bought those cookies and you’ll share it with your daddy but not with me? What a pair of scammers.”

Joel sent a smug smile his way before returning back to work. Babies were pretty selfish and Sarah was no exception, but he was an exception and that made him feel like the most special man in Texas.

“Miller,” a stern voice interrupted his family. He didn’t know whether it was directed towards him or towards Tommy, but the both of them apologized and left Sarah to her own devices before returning to work.

“Clients are such meanies, aren’t they?” He whispers to Sarah when the client is out of sight.

“Meanie!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air and lifting the packet of cookies with her. He laughed. That was a new word. She was a smart one.

They work all night, both of them. Sarah sleeps in the baby seat he bought for his truck. The daycare moms suggested it and he was so glad he bought one. It was damn expensive but ‘twas helpful for when they’re both working and Ma couldn’t take Sarah.

16th October 1992

Kids asked a lot of questions. Sarah did too.

Why is the sky blue? Why are some trees tall but other trees short? Why are soap suds all white no matter the color of the soap? What is a library? Why does Grandma have grey hair? Why does Uncle Tommy have long hair? What is a housing loan? What is concrete? Why is concrete gray? Why won’t you let me touch concrete?

He didn’t have a problem with the non-stop questions like other parents did. It was better for her to channel her curiosity into questions than get into trouble trying to find answers herself. His problem was that he wasn’t smart enough to answer ‘em.

He eventually did. Or hoped that she’d forget that he said he’ll ask someone and get back to her with the answer. But this wasn’t something he could ask someone else. It wasn’t something he could hope she’d forget. If she forgot now, she’d ask again later at some point in her life.

“What’s my mommy’s name?”

“Her name was Pamela.”

Was, he said. Like she was fucking dead. It had been years since he’d said that name. What a strange turn life took. Once upon a time, his whole world revolved around Pam and now he’d half forgotten what she looked like.

“Where is she?”

Last he heard, somewhere in New York. She became a lawyer. Good for her.

“I don’t know, baby,” he lied. What was the point of telling her where her mother was? She didn’t even know where New York was. She hadn’t even thought to ask about her mother in all these years. Well, she couldn’t even speak for a good portion of it but still…

“All the other kids have a mommy. Why don’t I have one?” Was he not enough? A lot of people reminded him that kids needed a mother more than they needed a father. That little girls needed a mother. That he wouldn’t know what the hell to do when she wanted cookies for the school bake sale or wanted a cute braid or got her period. He told all of them to go fuck themselves. Politely.

Her tiny hands held the stuffed animal he spent too much time and money on to win at the fair. Her innocent little eyes begged him for answers, reminding him where she got ‘em from. They looked like when Pam told him she was pregnant, scared and confused and begging him to do something, help somehow.

He might get a heart attack in his mid twenties.

“It’ll be harder to do anything. Parties, work, college, sleep. Everything will be harder.”

He didn’t know it would be like this. He knew the question would come up but he wasn’t prepared.

“I…”

She was patient. He picked her up from her chair and held her to his chest, wishing she’d go back to just babbling and looking cute.

“Most babies have two parents. A mommy and a daddy. Do you know why?”

She shook her head and kept her attention on his every word.

“Because they’re all so naughty.”

That got a laugh out of her. An easy smile found itself on his lips. It was hard to not smile when he saw her smile.

“Jason has a mommy and daddy,” he said, referring to the boy she had a few play dates with. “He gets in a lot of trouble so he needs to parents to take care of him. But you’re such a good kid, the best kid in the world and God knows that. So he just gave you one parent. Because Daddy is enough to take care of you.”

He was enough. He was enough to take care of her. He could pay for her daycare and clothes and health and everything. He read her bedtime stories and took her to work and kept her away from the tools.

He was enough.

“Is she taking care of another kid then? Is that why she’s not here?”

Jesus Christ, this girl.

“I don’t know, baby.”

“Oh. Can we go to the park?”

And just like that, she was over it. Thank fucking God.

He held her curls and gave her a kiss on her head. She was so special, she was so perfect. She deserved everything, deserved the whole universe, deserved a mom. He would spend his whole life and more giving her whatever she needed.

1st September 1993

“Here’s some snacks for you. I’ll leave it in your bag. Don’t forget to have it, okay?”

She nodded, munching on her cereal as he packed her backpack for her first day of school. He was nervous, but she looked completely fine. So did Tommy on his first day of school, but he ended up throwing a tantrum at the school gates and refused to let go of their parents. Joel had to promise him a full bar of candy to get him to finally walk into school.

Just so it was not too jarring for her, he made it a point to drive past her school every now and then. As they passed by, he explained to her that she would be going there everyday very soon and make a lot of tiny friends.

Construction work meant that schedules were all over the place. Sarah, having had no independent life of her own so far, was forced to stick to his messy days, waking up and sleeping at different times. Joel changed that to prepare her for waking up early to go to school.

With her bag packed with her pencil case, water bottle, snacks, color pencils and the books and notebook her school asked her to bring, it was time to move on to the next task.

“Daddy, I want the purple bows today. The new ones Nana bought.”

“I know, baby girl. I got them here already,” he said, pulling out the bright purple hair accessories from his pocket where he’d also shoved her hair brush, handkerchief and socks. He pulled her hair together in two pigtails, proud of himself for how far he’d come in doing her hair from a confused man asking his very few female friends for help to a natural dad who did this every morning.

He clipped a bow on each side, the little purple things sitting at the base of her soft rounded hair style. She climbed up the table without notice and checked herself out on the mirror nearby, grinning as she touched her hair.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“Aww, you’re welcome baby girl,” he cooed, pulling her close and placing kisses on her cheeks and forehead. He couldn’t believe she was ready for school already. It felt like she was born just yesterday. Each day was long and difficult, but together they’d all passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn’t know if she was prepared for such a big step, to be in school everyday for a couple hours without him.

“Tickles,” she giggled as his mustache scratched her cheeks. He kissed her again, making her fill the living room once again with her squeals and laughter.

“I want the orange shoes today,” she said, placing her foot on his chest.

“Sure? You picked the black socks with the green aliens. Shouldn’t you wear black shoes?”

“You don’t know fashion, daddy. You wear only boring tops without cartoon characters. And you don’t even have Barbie clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Orange shoes it is then,” he said, slipping the shoes she demanded on her feet. At least they were Velcro and she could remove them and put them back on easily without help.

Soon, Tommy had arrived at their door and like the menace he was, brought some candies.

“Tommy,” he spoke in a stern tone.

“Come on, Joel! It’s a big day. Our baby girl is all grown up and going to school!”

“I’m a big girl!” She exclaimed, pumping her little fists in the air like she’d won a medal.

“Yeah, very big,” Tommy laughed, putting the candies in her school backpack. “Now, be nice and share some candy with your classmates. That’s the quickest way to make friends.”

She listened to his advice intently and Joel wondered if she’d take a pen and notepad out to take his advice down if only she knew how to string alphabets together to make words.

While he usually sat in the front and let Sarah sit in the back of the truck, he chose to sit in the back this time, offering her the comfort and confidence she needed to take this big leap.

“…be a good girl and listen to your teacher. And don’t use any rude words, okay? Stuff you hear at daddy’s work, it’s only for grown ups. You understand?”

She nodded, beady eyes focused on the glittery designs of her backpack rather than his words. As much as he tried to speak properly around her, he couldn’t stop her from learning the crass words spoken by the people he worked with at the construction sites. And because daycare was expensive and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with strangers for such a big part of the day, she had to be at his workplaces, heart no those words.

“Don’t be scared. It’s just school and it’ll be fun. You’ll get to read new stories and make new friends. It can be scary in the beginning but it will be so much fun,” he continued on, caressing her back as he held her close.

“What do you do if you’re scared or if you want daddy?”

“I’ll tell my teacher you’re waiting outside and I want to go to you,” she repeated the words he’d been drilling into her head for months. He had taken the entire week off work to wait for Sarah outside school. Just in case she really needed him before the end of the school day. God forbid there be an injury or something.

“You’ve seen your classroom before, remember? With the colorful stickers on the walls?” She nodded, walking next to him as she looked around at the other kids and parents on the campus for their first day. He averted her eyes from the crying kids, afraid that seeing them might make her cry too.

Joel dreaded the waterworks, dreaded how her sparkling eyes would brim with tears and her little lips would pout before fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She was too precious for that and her tears always made him want to tear up anything and anyone who caused it. It didn’t matter that she also cried for the silliest reasons and cried when she threw tantrums. They never stopped having that heartstrings-pulling effect they had when she came crying and screaming into the world. Those cries that convinced him that he shouldn’t give her up, that he couldn’t trust anyone else on the planet to comfort her the way he could.

When they reached her classroom and met Mrs. Moore, he handed her backpack over to her. Kneeling in front of her, he gave her a few kisses on her cheeks. “Be good, okay? Daddy’s right outside and I’ll pick you up when school is over. Yeah?”

“Okay, daddy!” She said cheerfully. He turned his cheek to her for a kiss, but she didn’t notice, walking off in the other direction with her backpack. She dipped her bag on the table before introducing herself to another kid with her standard script for meeting others— her name, his name, her favorite cartoon characters and a handshake while she said it was nice to meet them.

“Dang, she couldn’t wait to ditch ya,” remarked Tommy as he watched Sarah socialize and show the kids the cartoon characters on her backpack.

Joel’s vision clouded with tears as he sat on his knees in the middle of the classroom. His lips trembled and his chest clenched at being left just like that by her. She never left him. Even when she was with her grandparents, she came running to their porch when she heard him and Tommy pull up in the drive.

Tommy dragged him away from the classroom when it was time for parents to leave. While he left, Joel’s heart stayed right there in the classroom.

“Goddamn,” he muttered as he wiped his tears off with the sleeves of his shirt. To think he was worried about her crying… Here he was, crying like a child while his actual child faced her first day of school with a big smile on her face.

“Can’t believe she’s in school already,” Tommy said and he nodded, not confident that he could speak without sobbing.

How was he supposed to do this everyday? Just leave her in a building with complete strangers and be confident that when he went back, she would be there, safe and happy. Other kids could bully her, her teacher might be rude to her, she might be hungry even after eating the snacks he packed her. How was he supposed to know how she was doing in all these hours she’d spend in a place with none of the friends and family she knew?

It was like taking your heart out your chest, putting a backpack on it and sending it away to fend for itself while praying that nothing bad would happen to it.

30th November 1994

Joel Miller would beat up anyone who made his baby girl cry. He didn’t care who it was. This time though, he had no one to blame but himself. She wouldn’t let him near her. She was crying, but she was also incredibly angry. Where did she even get anger from? He couldn’t believe that such a tiny little girl could have so much anger in her.

“I’m leaving the house and I’m never ever coming back!” She squeaked into the phone between sobs.

He was disappointed in himself. She was being especially difficult, yes. He had to drop her off at daycare and run to work, but she wouldn’t stop running around in the backyard in her pajamas. He’d had enough and yelled.

So here she was with her pink backpack full of her things that she packed herself— mismatched clothes, hairbrush, hair wrap, hair tie, teddy bear. She didn’t pack any underwear. She was stood on the couch to reach the landline phone, holding the receiver to her ear and asking, no demanding, that Uncle Tommy pick her up.

“Who made my baby girl cry? I’m gonna kick their butts,” Tommy declares as he walks in, popsicle in hand. He was gonna kick Tommy’s ass. She wasn’t supposed to have that shit. It was unhealthy. But apparently it wasn’t up to him anymore. It was Sarah and her Uncle Tommy’s world and he was just living in it.

“I’ll get him, okay baby?” He reassured her gently and Sarah nods before hugging Tommy.

Fucking drama queens, the both of them.

“Go wait in the truck and have this popsicle, okay? I’ll beat your dad up.”

She grinned— what the fuck. She grinned, took the stupid popsicle and ran off to the truck which neither of them asked to borrow. Fucking thieves.

Tommy burst out laughing as soon as she left.

“If you wanna be cool Uncle Tommy beatin’ her dad up, the least you can do it babysit her until she stops hatin’ me.”

“She doesn’t hate you!”

“You said you were going to beat me up and she fuckin smiled like you promised her a pony. Take her for the weekend,” he said, handing him the bag that he packed for her. And this one had her underwear, matching set of clothes, her favorite blanket and the story book she was currently reading.

He loved her but goddamn it, he needed a break. The teenage years were going to be hell.

26 September 1996

His hands are cover in glitter. And they’re also sticky for some reason. Something happened here. He didn’t know what, but he would find out. There’s a pair of scissors on the floor. He didn’t put them there and the only other person in the house was told very clearly to not touch them.

Rules were more like suggestions in this household.

“Sarah!” He calls out, walking around the house looking for her. Where the hell was this kid on a school day? It usually took waking her up a million times, took begging to get her to make her bed and some threats to get her outside her bedroom.

He almost yelped when a something, roughly the weight of one Sarah Miller, landed on his back and began giggling.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY!!!!” She screamed into his ear. His ears rang from the sound and his heart beat faster, but his heart also grew warmer.

He pulled her to his front and she wasted no time giving him wet kisses on his cheeks. “Thank you, baby girl,” he said, laughing from her enthusiasm. She had never remembered his birthday before, not that he expected her to. She barely remembered her own and made him count down to it from 3 months before the day. So it was a surprise that she remembered.

“I made you a gift,” she said, showing off the gaps between her teeth as she smiled.

“Whaaaat? A gift? For me?”

She nodded and wriggled out of his grip before running off. Her footsteps grew distant and then closer until she emerged with what he could only hope used to be paper. It was a sparkling red sheet. Under all the glitter, there had to be some paper left. There was paper and on it were the words ‘Happy birthday daddy’ written colorfully in crayons. He opened the card to find a drawing of him— beard, power tools, truck and all. It was labeled ‘daddy’.

On the right was a message from her, in her writing that started big and became smaller with each alphabet.

‘Happy Birthday Daddy. I love you.’

“Do you like it?” She asked, wide eyes looking at him expectantly.

“I love it! It’s perfect, baby,” he praised, picking her up off the ground and smothering her with kisses. She was the sweetest, most precious thing in the world. His Ma gave him a new shirt and Tommy bought him a bottle of good whiskey, but they paled in comparison to the card that he tucked away safely in the file with all their important documents, glitter be damned. The card collection grew over the years.

2nd February 1997

“You’ll like her, I promise!”

“Where have I heard that before?” Joel snorted, getting back under the truck to look for whatever the hell had gone wrong underneath for it to not start. They did take a bus to the construction site that morning, but they couldn’t do that again. The buses were unreliable and the walk to the bus stop took up half an hour. Sarah was already annoyed at him for not coming home on time. Last thing he wanted was to leave home earlier and come back later.

“Okay, that was one time! And she was a friend of a friend of a friend. I’ve met Judy and she’s definitely your type.”

“Sure,” he grunted, extending his hand out to get the tool he needed from Tommy.

“Curly hair, kind of tall. She’s clever. A math teacher, actually. Out of your league in that department so if you could pull her, it would be a miracle.”

“You settin’ me up for failure then.”

“Listen, she’s new to the city and she’s open to meeting people. It’s not gone be a date, Joel. Just drinks with her, a couple of her friends, my roommate and his sisters. You need a break.”

He hated to admit it even to himself, but Tommy was right. Not about dating, but about needing a break. He had been working a lot more recently. The contracting business was still in its infancy and needed a lot of his time and attention to just stay afloat. He didn’t have enough capital to invest in more monpower, so he had to take every call and make every decision and do every task he didn’t have enough guys for.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, wiping his face with the greasy cloth, getting more grease on himself than off.

“I’ll ask Ma to take Sarah. You know she’s dying to see that kid,” Tommy offered. He knew that it was meant to get him to feel better, less guilty about getting rid of Sarah for the night to get drunk. But it only made him feel worse about shirking his responsibilities to go get drunk and try to sleep with someone. The last time he did that, he became a father.

But he does it anyway because he told Tommy he would. He goes on a couple of dates with the girl and it feels nice to be around someone who is interested in him for himself, not for what he did for them or because they were stuck with him.

It doesn’t last long. Sarah and work always take priority over everything else in his life and she understandably doesn’t like being his last priority. He never tries again.

16th June 1998

“Sarah!” He called for the fourth time, again with no response. He plated the food for her, grabbed his own plate and walked upstairs to her room.

“Been calling out your name for ten minutes now, baby girl.”

She looked up at him, a weary smile on her lips. “Sorry. I was just finishing up my assignment. Didn’t hear you.”

He put the plate on the table in front of her and ruffled her hair, making her pout. “‘S nice to focus on school, but you need to keep your ears alert,” he said, sitting back down on her bed with his plate.

One glance at her books told him she was doing her math homework. Geometry, to be precise. At least it was something he knew this time. Last week, she was writing her social science essay and went on about the different parts of the United Nations or some shit. He only remembered a bunch of abbreviations and not what they stood for. She could make something up like UNCPS, call it United Nations Child Protective Services and he’d believe it. Wait, was that what UNICEF was?

Math was the only thing she learned in school that he still understood, that made him feel like a smart dad capable of helping his kid out with her homework. Not that she needed any help. She’d taken after Pam in the brains department. Thank god.

Nevertheless he checked her answers. He didn’t want to be completely useless.

She’d done well. There were one or two mistakes she’d made, repetitions of the kinds of mistakes she’d made before in long division. Just careless ones that she corrected easily when he pointed them out to her. Nothing he had to teach her.

“Oh, before I forget…” she said, pulling a plastic file out of her purple backpack. “I need your signature on this thing. It’s the permission slip for a talk from a retired army officer.”

He rifled through the pens in her pen stand, taking too long to find one that wasn’t purple, glittery, or purple and glittery. “Military? Why they teachin’ you that?” He asked, wary about his kid learning anything about wars. It’d gotten Tommy a little too excited and before they knew it, he was off getting shot at somewhere in the gulf. The dangers of that were lower with a daughter than with a son, but he was still wary. Gender equality better not creep its way into jobs that could get his kid killed.

“Yeah, you ain’t going to this thing. Take the day off.”

“No way, we might have a social science pop up quiz on Wednesday and I’m not going to miss it.”

“Aren’t pop up quizzes supposed to…I don’t know, pop up? Like surprise,” he said, earning an eye-roll from her. Wasn’t even a teenager yet and she was rollin’ her lil eyes at her dad. He’d lucked out in the baby lottery, got himself a smart, mostly well-behaved one. But it still confused a man to have the little thing that used to depend on you for everything from food to wiping her butt now rolling her eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. I can’t just skip classes. I’m sure this,” she said, waving the piece of paper at him. “—is just formality. And it’s just going to be some boring talk from some old guy. If you don’t sign it, they’ll still make me go and then my principal will call you up to my office and ask you why you didn’t sign the slip. Merel’s older brother didn’t get his signed and the principal asked his dad if he was a communist.”

“The worst that could happen is this old man calling me a communist? You’ll have to do better than that.”

“Uncle Tommy said that communists are evil,” she said, her eyes widening for effect.

“Your uncle also says that two plus two is five and that ice cream is good for your health.”

“Because it’s milk and milk has calcium!”

“Sure it is. And it’s a shitload of sugar.”

“But if I’m having sugar, isn’t it better to have it with milk? That way I’m also having something healthy,” she asked, showing off her missing teeth as she grinned.

“Or you can just drink milk.”

“Milk tastes like sh— garbage,” she quickly corrected herself. His little girl knew bad words. That shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it was considering how much he and Tommy cursed around her. But it was…disturbing. It was evidence she was growing up, using these words around her little friends and hiding that from him. He used to know her better, be able to read her from the smallest facial expressions. He used to be able to anticipate her needs, predict her behavior, but it was getting harder nowadays.

“And you know what garbage tastes like because…?”

“I grew up eating stuff you cook, that’s how.”

“Walked right into that one.”

“Yeah you did,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. He chuckled at her silly behavior, pinching her nose between his thumb and index finger before letting go. Maybe she wasn’t growing up after all.

“Whatever garbage I fed ya, it’s kept you strong enough to talk crap ‘bout it.”

He thought back on the days of fighting out how to cook. Before Sarah, he’d been surviving on takeout. Having to clothe and feed an entirely new human being left little money in his wallet to spend on food. So he learned to cook. For a little thing, she’d made big changes in his life— made him a father and a man. He remembered waking up at odd hours when she so much as stirred in her crib that he kept beside his bed. He remembered how his heart would ache with her little whines that turned into cries of hunger. How he cursed her mother who was meant to be feeding her as he fixed her a bottle—a cheap substitute for her mother’s milk.

Nine years.

Goddamn.

It was hard to believe it’d been that long since she entered his world and changed everything about it. Even when the evidence sat right before him, doing her homework and doodling on her desk. Her hand, while bigger, still held her pencil the same way it did when he taught her to write. Now it wrote faster, wrote long words beyond his understanding in pretty cursive handwriting.

He waited patiently as she ate the boxed mac ‘n cheese, ashamed that he couldn’t feed her anything healthier. It’d been a long day and he didn’t have the time or energy to make something better. But she ate it up happily, not complaining even once. It induced both guilt and satisfaction, the former from the lack of nutrients in the food and the latter because he still made his little girl happy.

He covered his mouth as a yawn took over, making her laugh. “You yawn so funny.”

“I do?” He asked before faking a yawn, making silly sounds as he did. She giggled and yawned back, producing her own silly sounds. It had quickly turned into a competition, leaving father and child making the silliest sounds until the latter crumpled on him, breathless from her laughter.

“Alright. Time to sleep, okay? And remember, Grandpa is picking you up from school tomorrow. So don’t walk home by yourself.”

“Alright dad,” she said, settling under her purple blanket. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning her bedside lamp off.

Dad.

Not daddy, but dad. The little girl was adamant on growing up. He left her room, remembering that she hadn’t asked for a bedtime story in months. She read on her own, borrowed piles of books from the library and narrated the stories to him and Tommy and anyone who would listen.

She didn’t need him for that anymore. While it was a comfort in one way, to lessen the duties of parenthood, it clawed at his chest to know that one day she wouldn’t need him at all. He’d had her for nine years and in another nine, she would be off to university, leaving him alone in this house with nothing to do for the first time since she became his life.

23rd December 1999

“Ma…” Tommy called out, his voice breaking as he turned to him, tears already streaming down his cheeks. Joel stepped forward and threw an arm around his little brother.

First dad and now… His chest felt heavy and his throat prickled from all the sobs he held back. He needed to be strong. There was one more funeral to arrange, a little brother to comfort…god, Tommy had seen too many deaths in his lifetime already. This wasn’t going to be easy for him.

And Sarah. She had never seen death before. Loss, yes. Her mother, her best friend who left town, the goldfish that died because he forgot to feed it. But death in the family, that was new.

He let go of Tommy and gave him an awkward pat on the back. “I’m going to call the funeral home.”

The call had been made, their mother was taken away from their family home to join her father and he drove the two of them back to his place. It wouldn’t be wise to stay there, with all the memories of growing up with their parents, especially with the holiday decorations cheering up the place in the most offensive manner.

They were supposed to celebrate together, just the five of them. But god had other plans it seemed. He poured Tommy another drink and leaned back on the couch, mind reeling with all the paperwork he had to take care of and who would take care of Sarah when he was away handling it. Not Tommy, not in his state. He sipped on his beer, watching Tommy as he followed suit.

It had been decades ago, but he remembered quite well what Ma had said after Tommy ran off to complain to her about Joel yelling at him for scribbling on his homework.

“When your dad and I are gone, Joel, you’ll be the one to take care of him. He’s little and he will make silly mistakes. But you oughta forgive him, take care of him.”

Somehow, Tommy looked just as pathetic as he did that day. Innocent, vulnerable and needing comfort. He had seen so much, so much more than what Joel could imagine in his worst nightmares. But Joel would still see him as his little brother.

“Alright, Tommy. You’ve had enough,” he said, prying the bottle of beer from his grip and taking it to the garbage. Tommy didn’t resist, only crumpled down on the couch as he stared at the ground.

“Dad?” Said a low voice, heavy with sleep. He looked to the other side to find her, rubbing at her eyes as she walked further into the living room. He’d just tucked her into bed after she spent almost an hour badgering him about what Christmas presents Santa would bring her that years as he worried himself sick about how he’d tell her that grandpa was dead. Just the thought of her festive excitement breaking to make way for grief… That was when Tommy called him, sobbing and sputtering out the words.

He’d gone to cook something for Ma and found her unmoving on her bed.

“Hey baby girl…” he said, his voice soft as he walked to her. “Did we wake you up?”

She whined and hugged him, placing her weight on him as she let him lead her to the couch. Tommy, realizing his niece was there, wiped his eyes with the cuffs of his shirt and plastered a smile on his face. “Hey Butterfly…” he addressed her in his trembling voice.

“What happened?”

Joel didn’t know how he did it. But he did it. The girl’s eyes were wide as she listened to him, her little hands wrapped around his arms like she was afraid to let go.

“We’ll never see grandma and grandpa again?”

He shook his head, his heart breaking for her. He never had the misfortune of experiencing his own grandparents’ deaths. Half of them were gone before his parents had him and the other half passed when he was too little to remember them.

“There will be a funeral for them. We’ll all get together as a family and say goodbye at Church.”

Her lips curved down and tears brimmed in her eyes, the realization of the true nature of death hitting her. With a wail, she wrapped her arms around him, her bony knees digging into his thighs. “I don’t want them to go,” she cried, her tiny fist punching his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

“I know, baby… I know.” He whispered into her ear, cradling and rocking her in his arms the way he did when she cried as a newborn. “It’s going to be scary because we have always had grandma and grandpa. But we’ll get through it, okay? Together. Daddy’s here. I’ll get us through it.”

“I don’t want them to die.”

“I know, I know,” he breathed and for the first time since he lost the first two people he ever loved, the sorrow caught up to him. Her innocent words, how she thought to speak them to him- as though she believed he could prevent her dead grandparents from dying. In her innocence, he finds his own. For the first time, he allows himself to be more than the responsible older brother who made funeral arrangements and took care of his grieving little brother. His love for his parents, his remaining childlike belief that they would be permanent in his life— They dug their claws into his chest and ripped his heart right out, piercing it, making it bleed.

“Does everyone die?” She asked meekly, fear and curiosity battling each other and plunging them both into the remains of her innocence.

“Yeah. Eventually, everyone dies.”

“Even you?” She asked, pulling back, sweet brown eyes staring back at him. While he thought she had her mother’s eyes, everyone else said their expressions were his. His eyes that he got from his father. For the first time, he saw what they all said. Just like dad’s eyes.

“You don’t worry about that now, baby girl,” he said, caressing her hair. “I’ll be here for a long time. You’ll be a big girl by then. Have a job ‘n all.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Oh, darlin’…” He pulled her to his chest and patted her back, setting a rhythm that he used when her back was the size of his hand and she needed the rhythm to fall asleep on his chest. She relaxed under his touch, the rhythm still having an effect. “It’ll be fine. Everything will be okay,” he lied, a habit that’s come easy to him with fatherhood. Lying was second nature when it came to comforting her, lulling her into a false sense of security about life.

17th May 2000

He pulled up the hem of his T-shirt and wiped his sweat, hoping to look better for Sarah’s game. He was late. By over an hour. Sarah would already be angry at him and seeing his face in the stands so fucking late would only add insult to injury. But he had to try. After all the games he missed, he had to keep his promise to be there for the final match.

He spotted Sarah instantly as he walked close to the field. But she wasn’t playing like he hoped. She was taking a towel from her friend Candace, her lips weighed down by a frown. Candace’s mother offered her a bottle of water and she accepted it politely before walking away and settling down on the stands. Alone. The back of her soccer jersey is stained with sweat and his guilty mind reads the big bold Miller on it as an accusation. Where were you, Miller? Other kids were with their families and his sat alone.

“Baby girl…”

She looked up at him but quickly dropped her eyes back down to her lap, her fingernails scratching at the label of the plastic water bottle. From the frown on her face, he guessed that her team didn’t win. Such a shame since she worked so hard practicing while also keeping her grades up.

“It’s okay you didn’t win,” he began gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She tsked and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. Oh she was angry. “You came this far. Finals and all. Second place is still good, you know?”

Silence.

Maybe it would help to regale her with one of his own failures, show her she was doing much better than her old man, maybe even make her laugh. “I was always on reserve and hoping nobody gets injured so I didn’t have to play,” he said, his laugh coming out awkwardly as her frown deepened. Humor wasn’t it, apparently.

“Sarah!” An older woman called out from across the pitch and she looked up at her. From her outfit- tracksuit, whistle at the end of a lanyard around her neck, he assumed she was a soccer coach. “It’s time for the pictures.”

She put her water bottle down on the seat next to her and walked in the woman’s direction. It definitely hurt, her walking away from him without hesitation in the direction of someone who wasn’t family. Like a visible representation of her rejecting him for someone she saw more than him these days.

He let out a defeated sigh and walked up to the pitch and found the huddle of backpacks. Finding her purple one with the butterflies wasn’t hard. He picked it up and threw it over his shoulder and watched as she stood with the kids on her team for the picture. The coach brought a trophy over, big shiny one with ribbons tied to it. Her little friends cheered as the trophy was handed to the girl in the middle, the captain presumably and they all put their hands on it, smiling wide as their picture was taken. His little girl finally managed a smile too, encouraged by Chantal grabbing her shoulder and shaking her.

“She played well, huh?”

He looked to his side to find the owner of the voice, a man older than he was, wearing a red tee, the color of the opposing team.

“Tony,” he said, introducing himself. “I’m your Sarah’s math teacher. And the dad of the losing team’s captain.”

Joel squinted, confused. Sarah’s team didn’t lose? On the other side of the pitch, the red team stood together for a picture, looking a little less happy and holding a trophy much smaller than Sarah’s team.

“Joel,” he said, introducing himself. “Sorry for…uh-” he struggled to find a way to say something nice about his daughter’s performance. But he wasn’t at the game and didn’t know who the man’s kid was. “They played well, your kid’s team.”

“Oh, you’re being kind. Don’t tell my girl I said this, but they played like shit,” Tony said and he laughed awkwardly. Was he supposed to agree or disagree? Which would be more polite?

Joel instead changed the topic to school. “Is it hard? Teaching and having your kid in the same school?” He asked like a fucking idiot. Where did that come from? Why would that even be hard? He would kill to work at the school, see his kid more instead of working mad hours far away from home while she ate at the Adlers’ and went to bed alone. But the job paid shit.

“Well, a little…” he answered, scratching his beard. As the man spoke, Joel’s attention was elsewhere, on the pitch with Sarah. Her team won. The games she'd been stressing over for so long had come to an end and she had won. But she still had that frown on her face. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

She looked sad because he wasn’t there. After he promised he would be.

“…and you’d think she would be much better at math with me teaching her at home and another math teacher teaching her in school, but she’s hopeless. Soccer is life for Dolly. Your Sarah is very good. I’m guessing that’s why I never see you at the parent-teacher meetings. Never nothin’ to ask your kids’ teachers about if they’re doing perfectly well in school, right?”

“Right,” he said, nodding as he felt the guilt eat away at his heart. She had been raving about this match for so long, was so excited when they made it to the finals and drilled the date into his head. But he still forgot. He would lie to her on the drive home, say he had so much work that he couldn’t get to the match on time. But he would know the truth- that he forgot about it until he heard a soccer match inside the house of the client whose deck he was redoing.

“Now, I know your girl is very busy with the debate club, soccer and art. I asked her to join mathletes but she said she was too busy. I think it would be good for her. On her CV and stuff when she applies for college. Plus she needs a challenge.”

He felt smaller in front of the teacher despite having a couple inches over him. Sarah was a smart kid. Took after her mother there. But he wasn’t. He didn’t know art or debate and Sarah had long ago gone beyond the math he knew, taking advanced classes he never took and getting grades he never had on his report card. And did Tony say the math thing would help her with college?

“Yeah, she does,” he agreed, not even knowing fully what he was agreeing over. “Umm… I’ll talk to her about it.”

He traded some words with her teacher, the two of them agreeing to meet at the next game before he left to find his daughter and console her over her team’s loss. In a while, he found Sarah walking to the parking, holding a gold medal and a certificate. He followed and opened the truck door for her and she climbed in wordlessly.

“Come on, you gon’ be like that the whole time?” He asked, a couple minutes into their ride.

“You forgot about the game, didn’t you?”

“What? No!” He lied. “I wanted to come, baby girl. I swear. Just took too long at work today because of the sub-contractor. He installed the wrong plumbing for the kitchen and wouldn’t admit to it, so—” he stopped abruptly, feeling bad about his string of lies. But he did nothing to correct it. What was he supposed to say? Apologise for being a shit dad who forgot?

“I didn’t forget, I swear,” he lied again. Lying was second nature to him now. It was easier to lie than to confess to your kid that you forgot about something that was important to her. Plus, it wasn’t going to be worth the fight. She was a teenager and on a goddamn debate team. She knew how to argue. Whose idea was it anyway to teach children how to argue better? No one from the south, he was sure. Had he argued with his mama, he would’ve gotten a belt to his ass.

“Fine,” she huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

“A’right,” he said, feeling a weight leave his shoulder. “How ‘bout we get some pizza and celebrate your win? We can watch a movie too.”

“Okay fine. But I get to pick.”

“Yeah yeah, we’ll watch Toy Story again,” he said, smiling as her grumpy face lit up for a moment before stretching thin into a neutral expression. He had watched that movie a million times because of her. Their CD had given out from scratches from the number of times they watched it and he had to buy her a new one.

“I didn’t say Toy Story,” she said defiantly. Right… She was growing up now, watching fewer movies from when she was younger to make herself look older and cooler around her friends. He remembered that stage with Tommy.

“Sure, baby girl,” he teased, driving in the direction of their favorite pizza place.

27th March 2001

“Don’t be scared, a’right?” He said, holding her face in his hands. She nodded, putting on a brave face even though she was afraid. “I’ll be right behind you. Won’t let those assholes do anything. Uncle Tommy is inside the store too. We’ll take care.”

She took his word and got out of the truck, following the path she usually took when she walked home from school. She came home crying the other day, talking about how she didn’t want to go to school anymore ‘cause a bunch of guys stood outside a store leering at her and talking shit.

He was ready to go to prison for murder immediately, but Tommy chose to be the smarter Miller for the first time in his life and hatched a plan. Nothing elaborate. Just intimidating the whichever boys dared to fuck with his kid.

He followed Sarah at a safe distance, close enough to protect her from danger while also making sure to maintain enough distance so as to not alert the guys into running away. A few minutes in and he spotted them. Not boys. Not misguided teenagers like he was expecting. Men. Grown men older than him. He caught how their eyes crawled over his kid, how she squirmed under the gaze and he immediately wants to slam the three of them into the fucking ground. Pull their eyes out and kick them to their fucking death.

She was twelve.

He stopped outside the store. A little bodega he frequented. Tommy seemed to have similar thoughts running through his head, his hands curled into fists at his sides as he burned holes into the men’s head. They communicated with just their eyes. We’ll wait for Sarah to get home.

Joel didn’t know how he managed to wait until she walked into their street. From a distance, he could see her opening their front door and letting herself in. She better have locked the door.

Intimidation would not work on these men. Not was it enough for their disgusting act. Joel’s stomach turned as his mind replayed the way they looked at her. No wonder she was afraid. His poor girl.

They took the men out back, hand on their back, words exchanged about needing to ask something. He didn’t remember how much punches and kicks he and Tommy landed, but it seemed enough. Sarah walked home peacefully again. But peace eluded Joel from then on. He was raising a girl. He could remember how his female friends in school had to keep themselves safe- keys in between their fingers, a trusted male walking them home when it got dark. He thought nothing of it then, even walked some of his friends home to keep them safe.

It was different experiencing it as a dad. Now men were part of the list of things he had to worry about- concussion from football, period cramps, eating too much chocolate, fucking terrorists taking out goddamn buildings— He cursed the part of him that once wanted his little girl to grow up faster so he didn’t have to change diapers anymore. He would take diapers over this any day.

4th March 2002

“Uh huh,” he hummed as the client hammered on about his good for nothing son who he caught smoking weed and sneaking out to some party. He would’ve whipped out the picture of Sarah in his wallet and rubbed it in the man’s face that his kid never got into trouble and was a straight A’s student. But part of being a contractor was not being a complete fucking asshole to his clients. So he shut up.

Plus he was in no mood to brag.

He returned home late. Again. It had become the topic of all his fights with Sarah. He could understand why she would be angry. But understanding didn’t put money in his pocket or food on their table. It most certainly did not go towards Sarah’s college funds. Animals were what took up her thoughts these days. She brought home a ton of books from the library, ranting off about the different animals and how she wanted to take care of them for a living.

This obsession had stayed longer than the last one. She he believed their neighbor’s dog was to blame. And the stray cat that followed her home to get some scraps of food.

He would’ve brushed it off as his sweet daughter being kind to every fucking thing all the time. Well, he did. Until she dropped the bomb.

Veterinary medicine.

Curious, he slipped into the library close to a store he was building and sat in front of the computer. The number had enough zeroes in it for him to need a doctor and since he couldn’t afford the human one, a veterinary doctor like his kid wanted to become. It wasn’t something he could afford. Not a pet to satiate her obsession with, not a doctor for himself and certainly not enough to make Sarah an animal doctor.

He had just finished paying off the house and now this… Couldn’t she have chosen a different job to do with animals? Or relegated puppies to hobby instead of career. But the puppies weren’t the problem. He was.

No matter what education she decided on, it would end up breaking his back. When at the library, he had gone over a few other degree costs. While not as expensive as medicine, they were still significant costs. There was a little bit of inheritance from his parents, he had started an account in her name and kept his share of the money in it. But it wouldn’t be enough for a college degree.

Sarah’s anger over him not coming home on time hurt. Missing her games and not cooking her the best meals made him realize the failure he was as a dad. But by god he wouldn’t fail to give her a good education. Had he had that, he would be able to give her a better life. And he would be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to give her the education to reach her dreams.

27th September 2003

Sarah Miller came into the world crying when the doctor handed her to him, small and covered in blood. He took her into his arms then, his hospital gown red with her blood and he held her to his chest. His voice trembled as he introduced himself to her.

“Oh, baby girl…” he’d said as he looked down in wonder at the person who would become his entire world. “It’s daddy,” he said as tears of joy streamed down his cheeks. There would be no one adopting her. He wouldn’t give her to anyone else. No one could care for her the way he did.

She left the world the same, crying and gasping for breaths. She was still light in his arms, too easy to carry and still so little. The blood her father gave returned to him, oozing out of her bullet wound and covering him in his failure. He was supposed to have cared for her much better than anyone else could have.

His mother had taken her from his arms then, telling him she knew better, excited to see her grandchild even though she’d thought until then that they would give her away to another family. His brother tried to take her from him now. He held her closer, a whimper akin to that of a wounded animal escaping his lips. The chaos reeling on around them and the sobs that wracked his body weren’t enough to convince him that his world had ended.

A pole marked her grave, dug hurriedly by her beloved uncle.

“We’ll be back, okay?” He reassured the girl’s father, his hands squeezing his shoulder. Stifling a sob, he removed a chain from around his neck, a pendant shining silver from the light of the moon that sat peacefully in the sky as though unaware of the chaos underneath her.

He wrapped his chain around the pole.

MILLER

THOMAS R

9913387701

B POS

CHRISTIAN

A lot would change in the next two decades. But the dogtag would stay on the pole above her. Marking the grave of a child well loved, a name she shared and the type of blood he could’ve donated to her to save her life. The little girl would rest, but the man who had to be dragged away from her grave never would. He would wander, much like the zombies themselves, trying to find his purpose.

[iateyourfav]

Beastification - Chapter 2

Mr Beast engages in his first actual conversation with the batch, resulting in a variety of reactions from each of the clones.

The Bad Batch x Mr Beast

Tags: sfw, Crack fic, slow burn, Mr Beast AU, crack taken seriously

CW: the y/nification of Mr Beast, mentions of child abduction, braindead Mr Beast, Mr Beast talks to an invisible camera, lore breaking content

Words: 1117

Will update on Wednesdays and Sundays

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | ...

Read on ao3

„WHO?“ 

„MR BEAST (born May 7, 1998), more commonly known as MrBeast, is an American YouTuber. He is known for his expensive stunts and philanthropy.[1] He is the second most subscribed creator, on youtube, second only to T-Series. He has been seen as the creator of a new genre of YouTube videos that are expensive stunts.[2]“ Omega said this as if she‘d learned this information like a poem. She probably did.

Everyone turned around to the man they just rescued from Jabba‘s slimey grasp. He gave them a small smile and said: „Hey Everyone, it‘s Mr Beast..“ he seemed shy, obviously blushing. His cheek color now almost matching Wreckers.

“I‘ve never heard that name before.“ Hunter responded after thinking about Omega‘s description for a second. But Wrecker did. He heard that name before, though he couldn‘t exactly place where. Mr Beast. He felt like lightning was shooting through him, creating an urge to protect the man he just rescued. Something connected them, he felt it. He couldn‘t tell why and he couldn‘t even say if he cared for an explanation.

He was too distracted thinking about what just happened to notice Hunter talking to him. „Wrecker, take his handcuffs off.“ „Oh, sorry.“ He took them off and put them in his pocket. He heard Mr Beast release a sigh, indicating relief, along with another „Thank you“ he, again, wasn‘t able to vocalize a response to.

“Mr Beast, I love your videos!“ Omega began running towards the man. „Careful Omega, we don‘t know if he‘s dangerous or not.“ Hunter warned, not wanting Omega to get hurt.

“He‘s not dangerous, he just locks people in houses and exposes them to their biggest fears for money!“ she reached the newly liberated hostage, smiling up at him „My favorite are your Squid Game videos!“ Everyone looked a little bit confused at this point, but intrigued at the same time. The stunning man made them curious. What did he do to get locked up and held prisoner in Jabba's Palace?

“What did you do to end up here?“ Tech was the first to speak to Mr Beast directly. 

„I CHALLENGED JABBA THE HUTT FOR AUTHORITY!!!! I STOLE his NEWBORN CHILD !! If he got it back, he would’ve won 20,000 CREDITS, and if I would‘ve won, I would‘ve raised his child as ONE OF MY OWN!“ 

Omega seemed visibly excited at this idea. Wrecker was in awe. He‘s never heard a voice this soothing before. Hearing Mr Beast's voice felt like an angel touching his ears. He felt instantly at peace. 

„You stole Jabba's newborn child?“ Echo looked at Mr Beast like he was insane. But was this plan really that crazy? Why not steal Jabba the Hutt's child and challenge him for authority? What spoke against it, really?

But what stood out most to Wrecker was Mr Beast's seemingly maternal urges to raise Jabba‘s child. Motherhood seemed to fit Mr Beast perfectly. Knock that thought out of your head Wrecker thought.

“Alright Mr Beast, I don‘t really know what’s going on with you but we gotta get you back to Cids. Get on the ship.“ Hunter's suspicion about the man lessened, the feeling now being replaced with confusion. What was going on with this man? Cid better pay them double for this mission.

They finally got him on the ship after he got done telling them something about NordVPN, whatever that was supposed to mean. Mr Beast was now talking to Omega in the back of the ship, telling her about the candy bars he wanted to sell her, while the rest of the batch gathered in the cockpit to discuss this person they brought onto their ship.

“He‘s a creep. He‘s talking complete nonsense all the time. Do you think he‘s actually insane?“ Echo was clearly not impressed with their new passenger.

Wrecker did not like Echo talking about Mr Beast like this. He felt protective of the god-like creature he just met a few moments ago. He was fearless and crazier than him. He was his Queen and god help anyone who dared to disrespect his Queen.

“Hey, we don‘t know him that well yet. And the kid likes him, so I don‘t have a problem with him.“ Wrecker defended Mr Beast, hoping nobody noticed his blushing cheeks. 

„Yet? I hope we never see that man again after we hand him over to Cid.“ Echo snapped back. Hunter stayed quiet, deep in thought. Mr Beast wasn‘t acting like anyone else he‘d ever met before. His clear, loud voice; his gestures, the way his arms flung when he explained his plan to steal Jabba‘s baby; the way he talked like he was speaking to someone suffering from loss of hearing. He didn‘t know how to feel about him.

He watched him talk to Omega. She, at least, seemed certain that she liked him. It doesn‘t matter what we think of him, Hunter thought, he’s gonna be gone as quick as he came when we hand him over to Cid. He secretly hoped he‘d never see him again, so his head would stop centerning all of his thoughts around him.

What happened now, he didn‘t expect though. Hunter noticed Wrecker making his way towards the back of the ship. He looked uncomfortable, maybe nervous? But certain. Was he trying to make conversation with Mr Beast?

“What is he doing?“ Echo seemed to have noticed what Wrecker was trying to do, as well. Tech glanced towards the back too, though seemingly not caring enough to comment on what was going on.

“H-Hey“ Wrecker tried his hardest to get the words he wanted to say, to actually leave his mouth. Mr Beast looked up at him with his sparkling blue eyes, taking his breath away. „I- I just wanted to ask if you were okay, because you were locked up in Jabba‘s Palace and stuff like that.“ He looked at his feet the entire time he talked, escaping Mr Beast's eye contact, because Wrecker wasn‘t sure how long he could withstand this man's look.

“I‘M FINE! Just A LITTLE BIT annoyed that I couldn‘t get away with another CHILD ABDUCTION!“ Wrecker internally swooned at Mr Beast's beautiful voice, he wasn‘t sure he could ever get enough of hearing it. That’s when he noticed he was staring just a little bit too much. „Something wrong, Wrecker?“ Omega asked him, with a smile on her face, obviously happy her brother wanted to get to know her idol.

Wrecker searched his mind for a topic he overheard Mr Beast talking about in the time span between the rescue and now, in order to keep the conversation going.

“So, what’s this Squid Game thing about?“

[scarvi-tealdisc]

Heya! So this is my first time writing a fic for these characters! Pokemon Scarvi has become one of my favorite games to date, with the latest DLC igniting a love for the BB E4 cast. Especially Drayton, seeing that he reminds me of another white haired character (Friede from Pokemon Horizons) that I love haha

This fic is inspired from this ask response by @cheemken! It's a self indulgent piece mixed in with doses of self projection, and I had fun writing it! I'm hoping to get a better handle of their characters as I write more stuff about these characters in the future!

Series: Pokemon Scarlet and Violet | Indigo Disc DLC

Characters: Drayton, Crispin

Warnings: Plot involving food, eating food, intentions of feeding someone food

---

Crispin knew it’d be tough going into this but someone had to do it.

“C’mon Drayton, we gotta move all of this to the storeroom or else Lacey’s gonna flip!” Crispin stated in exasperation. He had his hands on his hips, trusty frying pan set aside for once. Narrowed eyes settled on his friend, who barely moved beyond lifting their head. 

“But there’s just so much of it. Can’t we just pile it in the corner and call it a day?” Drayton whined, sporting a cheeky grin that got Crispin’s blood boiling. 

Argh, why can’t he understand that they should have done this yesterday? Crispin wasn’t keen in seeing Lacey’s angry, disappointed frown even if it wasn’t directed at him! Drayton should know that she’d be on their case again for slacking off!

“Nope! These boxes needed to be moved yesterday but you wanted to nap first! No napping now! Move first, nap later!” Crispin’s insistence eventually led him to straight up grab Drayton’s wrist, tugging him to his feet.

Drayton wasn’t expecting this so they had no choice but to get up lest they faceplanted on the floor instead. While his friend rubbed the back of their neck, grumbling about feisty peppers or something, Crispin stared quizzically at his hand.

Why was he able to…?

“If you’re gonna make me get up for this, don’t zone out now.” Drayton’s voice snapped him out of the brief trance he was in. Right, they had stuff to do now. He should focus on completing this task first.

–

Hours later, Crispin still couldn’t forget it. He stared at his hand, fingers curling and uncurling around an imaginary wrist. He gently circled his own wrist with a thumb and forefinger, frown deepening.

Crispin didn’t realize how skinny Drayton actually was. Was it their attire that gave them the illusion of looking more filled out? He supposed the jacket hid their upper torso, while the cape wrapped around their waist made it seem… fuller or something. He wasn’t sure the right terminology to use, only that it didn’t sit right with him.

With how often Drayton snacked in the clubroom, the idea that he wasn’t eating enough never crossed Crispin’s mind. Sure, Drayton laziness rivalled that of a Slakoth but he didn’t think his friend would be too lazy to eat… unless there were other reasons? 

It made his head hurt a little when he tried to think too deeply on it. Crispin can’t just go out and ask them anyway. Knowing Drayton as well as he did, they’d probably wave of his concern, claiming that he was seeing things or something. Yet Crispin just can’t forget how thin their wrist felt. He hated the idea that one of his friends might not be eating enough.

After a brief brainstorming session that would’ve caused smoke to leak out of his ears, Crispin came up with a plan. He wasn’t as good as Drayton when it came to sneaking around and cooking up schemes but he was good at actual cooking.

Let's see what he had in his recipe book…

–

When Crispin poked his head into the clubroom, his eyes quickly landed on Drayton's slouched form by the desk. They looked to be munching on some snacks, which was far from nourishing in his opinion.

“Hey Drayton, are you busy right now?” Crispin piped up, entering the clubroom properly. In his hand was a small box wrapped up in a checker patterned cloth.

Drayton paused in his chewing. Slowly raising his head, he cocked an eyebrow, lips set into a faint grin.

“Nope. I'm pretty busy right now quality checking these snacks.” 

Crispin playfully rolled his eyes at the response. Drayton's teasing tone meant exactly that so he simply took a seat on the other side of the table. Placing the box in front of his friend caught their attention at least.

“So I've been doing some recipe testing. I wanted to spruce up common sandwich fillings, see if the taste can hold up even hours later. I tried them out and it's tasty but I want a second opinion,” Crispin explained while he unwrapped the lunch box. Upon taking off the top, it revealed various sandwiches with the crusts cut off, shaped in rectangles.

“What, so you want me to be your test Morpeko?” Drayton asked, arms now loosely crossed over their chest. They seemed interested at least with the sandwiches, which Crispin took as a small win.

“What, like I'd feed you bad food? Spicy food doesn't count!” Crispin quickly added before Drayton made a sassy remark. “But yeah, I could really use a second opinion and I do trust you so…”

Someone once commented that he had ‘eyes that were hard to resist’, which Crispin took as a compliment, thinking that it was his fiery spirit coming through. In actuality, he looked more like a pleading Lilliput more than anything.

Drayton locked eyes with Crispin for all of three seconds before they turned away, sighing.

“Alright, I'll give it a try. Geez, you'd think that should be classified as a weapon or something…”

Crispin ignored the rest of Drayton's mumblings, simply pleased as pie to watch his friend pick up one of the sandwiches. Looking at the color of the filling, that one had smashed eggs with a sprinkling of curry powder to give it an extra kick of flavor.

Drayton took a bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly before swallowing. The brief silence genuinely made Crispin sweat a bit but eventually, he got some feedback.

“This one's not bad. I'm getting hints of… some kind of spice.”

“It's curry powder! Specifically a blend that's pretty popular in Galar. Figured it would add a bit of a kick.”

“It's tasty. Adds a pop of flavor to the eggs.” Drayton took another bite of the sandwich. “I'm getting like different textures too. Smooth and a lil chunky. I like it.”

“Oh that's from adding some soft scramble with cut up pieces of boiled egg before I mixed both together in the sauce.” While Crispin beamed at the positive review of his creation, he also took note of Drayton's comment to file it away for later.

He seems to like contrasting textures.

Once Drayton finished their first sandwich, Crispin wasted no time in encouraging his friend to taste the next one. There was a bit of mild grumbling but Drayton did pick up the one that had shredded Klawf Stick next. 

This went on until Drayton finished tasting all the sandwiches in the box. Swiping off a bit of crumb from their bottom lip, Drayton flashed Crispin a lazy smile, leaning back against their chair.

“I suppose being your test Morpeko wasn't all that bad. You've been upping your seasoning game. There were all home runs, no strikeouts.”

Crispin tried to suppress a goofy smile. “Heh, thanks! I really appreciate the feedback too. Out of everything you've tried, was there a favorite?”

“Hmm… guess I liked the first one the best. The curry flavor added a lot to the filling.”

He seems to like curry flavors. Should look into making actual curry.

“Noted! Say, mind helping me out again tomorrow? I want to try out more fillings, maybe switching the bread up too.” Crispin tried to keep it cool, gazing at Drayton with his fiery eyes again.

“... sure, guess I don't mind.” Drayton’s eyes flicker to the left, one hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sweet! I'll see you tomorrow then!” Crispin gathered all his stuff before exiting the clubroom. With the door closed behind him, he pumped his fist triumphantly, hissing out a delighted yes.

Success! Drayton seemed none the wiser to his plan from the way they ate all the sandwiches he made. Crispin got some good information out of it too. It was important for him to take note of Drayton's potential likes and dislikes. Making food more tailored to their tastes will make things much easier down the road. 

Now he needed to come up with more enticing sandwich fillings for tomorrow. With a pep to his step, Crispin made his way back to his dorm room, where he will test out new flavor combinations for the rest of the day.

[aetherii-ignes]

Strawberries and sins

Prompt: Reader fulfills her duties as a Sister of Sin, by preparing cupcakes for Copia’s birthday; Dewdrop, the Fire ghoul, is hungry. Hungry for something sweet.

Pairing: Fire ghoul x Fem!Reader

CW: public, hair pulling, oral sex, MINORS DNI

Words: 3k

A.N.: This is my first ever ghost fic, so I hope it doesn't suck as much as it probably does. A massive thank you to my friend Elizabeth for beta-reading.

“Do you need help?”

I shook my head, glaring at the ghoul standing next to me, already with a finger dipped in the heavy cream I meticulously prepared.

“No.”

“Are you sure, angel?” the Fire ghoul asked, staring at me through his silver mask. “You seem pretty… overworked.”

He was right, but I wasn’t going to let him close to my cupcakes. I knew that if I had given up on his annoying questions, he would’ve stolen at least half of the cupcakes. I wanted him to eat one, but the rest were for the Cardinal - or Sister Imperator would’ve had my head on the same platter as the one I was serving my desserts on. I didn’t want to risk it, it was my time to impress her with my cooking skills.

“You’re covered in flour,” the ghoul tempted me again, taking the tip of his finger between his sinful lips. “I can help you out, if you ask me.”

Shaking my head once again, I pushed his hand away from the bowl. “I don’t need your help, you cheeky ghoul. I know what you’re trying to do.”

His eyes lit up at my sentence, shining under the lights of the kitchen. “Oh, do you?”

“You’re not going to steal these cupcakes.” I pointed to the oven, knowing that my desserts looked amazing and probably tasted even better. “They’re for Copia.”

The Fire ghoul took a step closer to me, crossing his arms to his chest. “So? He’s not going to cry if he eats twenty-nine cupcakes instead of thirty.”

“He probably won’t, but Sister Imperator asked for thirty. I’m not going to take any chances,” I replied, bumping my shoulder against his. “I’m serious, Dew. Please, don’t steal anything. I will make more for you and the others tomorrow.”

His right hand slid over my shoulder, his dark claws brushing over my skin in a caress. “We have a deal, angel.”

I leaned my head over his shoulder, staring at the oven where my cupcakes were slowly baking. They were vanilla flavoured, Copia’s favourite, and I hoped they turned out the way I wanted them to - and prayed for them too. The Cardinal’s birthday was probably the most important party of the year for the Clergy.

Last year I was in charge of the desserts, again, but the Fire ghoul made sure to steal every single chocolate cake I prepared. I was still new, I had no idea who I was dealing with and Dew thought it would’ve been funny to give me a little taste of his mischievousness. Luckily, he was kind enough to tell Sister Imperator that it was his fault if nobody at the Clergy had a slice of cake - which was the reason why she gave me another chance.

After all, the Fire ghoul wasn’t as cruel as he wanted everyone to think he was.

Not with me, at least.

“Why do you want to steal my cupcakes?”

The Fire ghoul took off his mask, placing it on the table in front of us. “Because I’m hungry.”

“Can’t you just open the fridge and eat the leftovers from this morning?” I asked, perplexed by his answer. “I’m sure there are still some pieces of chicken left, if Mountain didn’t eat them.”

He shook his head, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “I was craving something sweet.”

“What about the cookies I made yesterday?”

The Fire ghoul ignored my words and pulled away from me, walking closer to the kitchen door. I didn’t notice he locked it until I heard the doorknob click. When he turned to me, his eyes were glowing and suddenly the temperature in the room increased. I felt a drop of sweat run down my back, not knowing if it was from the heat of the oven or from the Fire ghoul’s piercing gaze. He stared at me, almost as if he wanted to eat me whole. He was hungry so he came to the kitchen. He saw me, locked the door. And now?

“I guess I can eat something else that’d taste just as sweet.”

Blushing at his words, I looked away from him.

I understood what he wanted and even though it wasn’t the first time we blew the steam together, it definitely was the first time he cornered in a place like that. Usually he would seduce me in his room, clinging to my shoulders and biting my neck while whispering to me what he thought about the previous night.

“Dew… We can’t.”

“Are you scared, angel?” he asked, placing his hands on my hips. “The door’s locked. No one is going to get in here.”

I cradled his face in my palms. “Have you forgotten that we live with other ghouls? They can get in with a twist of their hand and break the doorknob.”

“You wouldn’t mind one of them joining us, stop complaining,” he half-joked, making my nose twitch. “Seriously, we’re alone on this side of the Clergy. I made sure of it before coming in here.”

I tilted my head and raised my brows. “Before? Were you planning on seducing me while I was baking?”

“I tried to seduce you by sucking my own fingers, but you weren’t interested,” the Fire ghoul mumbled, pointing to the bowl of heavy cream. “You were too busy killing me with your eyes to realise what I was doing.”

Tugging on my apron with his fingers, Dew pulled me even closer to his body so that the tip of his nose was touching mine. He was right, I didn’t notice what he was trying to do because of my nerves - but that didn’t mean I found him unattractive.

“Your fingers shouldn’t be in your mouth, though,” I said.

The Fire ghoul brought his right hand over my cheek, brushing his thumb over my lips. “Right, they should be in here.”

I opened my lips for him, feeling a warmth spreading within my belly when his index pressed down on my tongue. I didn’t break eye-contact, watching the ghoul smile when my lips closed around his digit.

A satisfied hum left his mouth. “Good girl.”

It had always been difficult to stay focused on a task when the Fire ghoul was around me. His presence was always a distraction to me and he made sure to own that power, to use it against me so that I’d be wrapped around his finger.

“I am still hungry, though.”

Pulling his thumb out of my lips, he brushed it down my chin. “Hungry for what?” Something leathery wrapped around my calf, running up to the edge of my skirt. Dew’s tail gripped my thigh but didn’t dare to go further.

“I can just show you, how about that?”

When the Fire ghoul dropped down on his knees right in front of me, I gasped. It wasn’t an unusual sight for me, Dew loved going down on me probably more than fucking me - if we couldn’t have a quickie in the bathroom before a show, he would make sure to worship me and leave bruises on my inner thighs to quench his thirst. However, there was something slightly depraved in having him with his face between my thighs while being in a common-space. Other Sisters were going to be there by the end of the evening, and even more tomorrow morning. Knowing and remembering what we did right there, just because he was hungry, made my insides tingle.

The Siblings wouldn’t smell my scent all around the room, but the other ghouls would - and that thought made my head spin. As wrong as it was, I loved knowing they could feel I belonged to one of them.

That I belonged to Dewdrop.

“You look so pretty like this.” I mumbled, blushing when his hands sneaked underneath the skirt of my cloak. “My pretty ghoul.”

His tail wiggled behind him, before sliding over my right leg again. “I’m going to look even prettier with my tongue buried inside your pussy.”

The way he said it so casually made me chuckle, but the Fire ghoul knew it was true. I always found him rather attractive while being so focused on me, on my taste, on making me feel so good to the point my eyes would roll in the back of my head. “Please. Do it.”

The Fire ghoul hiked my skirt up to my hips and I held it back for him so that I was still able to see him. His fingers hooked the hems of my panties and dragged them down to the floor, before his tongue immediately dived in. I had to look away and bite my lips so hard I almost felt a drop of blood slide down, terrified that too much noises could catch someone’s attention outside. The warmth of his tongue felt too good against me, the growl that left his lips felt even better - and I knew I wasn’t going to last that long.

Dew brought his hands on my thighs, spreading them apart. “You taste so sweet.”

My fingers immediately entangled with his hair as I turned my head to the side, trying to find a way not to scream too loud. It was difficult to be quiet when his lips closed around my clit, sucking on it harshly - his forked tongue was too perfect. He knew it, that’s why he kept teasing my clit. The more he made me squirm, the more he loved it.

“Please, you’re…Gonna make me come.”

His fingers dipped into the soft skin of my thighs, leaving bruises that he was definitely going to kiss later. The wet sound of his tongue pressing into me made my head spin as I tightened my grip on his hair, earning another growl from the ghoul on his knees. He loved having his hair pulled and I knew I wasn’t doing it right, but the pleasure was too high within me. I wasn’t focused, I couldn’t focus at all even though I could hear the faint sound of his tail tapping against the hard cold floor. But it didn’t matter.

“I could do this for fucking hours,” the Fire ghoul mumbled, bringing his right hand where I needed him the most. “All mine.”

Even in moments like those, Dewdrop had to make sure I remembered who I belonged to. It was intoxicating to know how easily he could control my body and every single one of my reactions with his touch, his words, his tail, anything he did.

“Yours, yours,” I chanted.

Pushing his index finger inside of me, Dew didn’t waste any time and curled it deep. His digit pressed right against the soft indentation inside of me and the sensation threw me for a loop, forcing my lips to whisper his name over and over.

“Ah, does that feel good? Am I making you feel good, angel?”

He knew how difficult it was for me to speak in such conditions, but he taunted me nonetheless. He loved witnessing the power he had over me, how his tongue would tie mine into silence. The whimpers slipping from my lips echoed in the kitchen and I hoped no one could hear me, otherwise it was going to be a big problem. His tongue felt too good between my legs, collecting my juices as they dripped all over Dew’s chin.

“You’re so wet for me, angel,” the Fire ghoul whispered, pulling away from my core with his lips glistening. “I bet you’d feel perfect around my cock.”

I whined at his words, twisting his hair. “Later.”

Dewdrop closed his eyes and allowed me to push his face between my thighs again, feeling his tongue slip through my folds and into me. He growled when I tightened my grip on his hair, feeling myself slip closer and closer to that delicious edge I was riding because of him.

His tail ran up to my thigh again, following the path of my juices down my skin.

My whole body tensed and I knew the Fire ghoul could feel it, because his tongue focused on my clit and his fingers started to tease my entrance. As soon as his index finger prodded at my hole, I felt completely empty - and in desperate need to be filled. I needed Dewdrop inside of me, I needed to feel his cock stretch me out so perfect.

“So tight, so warm.”

My moans reached his ears and they encouraged him to tease me even more, to give me one of the things I was craving the most - his tail. The leather tip prodded my entrance as the Fire ghoul pulled his fingers out, still sucking my clit with his lips.

“Fuck! Yes, please.”

Despite my thoughts being a mess of begs and pants, Dewdrop understood how good he was making me feel. My muscles tensed around his tail and my orgasm felt close, ready to break through my body and let me reach that state of euphoria I so desperately sought.

“Come for me, angel,” the demon ordered, bringing both hands on my thighs. “I want you to come all over my tongue. Make a mess all over my face.”

If it wasn’t for his voice turning me on more than it should have, I would’ve blamed his tail as it reached that spot within me. My insides started to burn with desire as a shock of adrenaline ran through me, forcing me to whisper his name. My whole body shuddered as Dew didn’t stop his ministrations, sucking my clit between his lips. He wanted me to get desperate, to get loud, to make everyone inside the Clergy well aware of what was going down in the kitchen - because he was a fucking menace, and I loved him dearly for it.

Shaking and trembling, I came down from my high.

“You did so well for me, angel,” the demon whispered, leaving a trail of kisses down my right inner thigh. “But next time you need to be louder.”

I smirked, knowing that I was going to get in so much trouble for even thinking that answer.

“Or maybe… you need to do better.”

Before the Fire ghoul could register my words, a faint laugh came from the other side of the kitchen and I froze in my spot. Suddenly, my heart dropped inside my ribcage as the handle of the door turned to reveal the ghoul hiding right behind.

“Aether?”

The Fire ghoul immediately stood up from the floor, tucking his trousers and making sure he was covering my half-naked body with his own.

“Here at your service,” he immediately replied, playfully bowing down to Dew. “I was looking for something to drink, but found myself in a sticky situation.”

My cheeks heated at the thought of him listening to my moans, to my ghoul bringing the immense pleasure he promised me he would. However, I was more concerned about the fact that Aether didn’t ask us to join - usually he loved playing with us, watching our dynamics and mocking Dewdrop for becoming more dominant with me.

“Next time you plan on surprising your girlfriend with some oral, make sure to call me as well. It would’ve been nice to watch her,” Aether mumbled, walking inside the kitchen as if it wasn’t a big deal. “And by the way, Sister…I’ve missed your moans.”

Hiding my face against the Fire ghoul’s chest, I grew quiet. I didn’t know what to say - or better, I didn’t want to say anything. I was still slightly out of it, my mind clouded by the delicious pleasure I was put through by the skilled tongue of my lover.

Dewdrop closed his arms around my shoulders, his warmth helping me to come out of my blissful state quicker than usual.

“And here I thought we could be more adventurous…Everyone wants you.”

I nipped at the skin of his throat, smiling. “And yet, I always run back to you.”

My words seemed to have had the effect I was hoping for. “Because you’re mine, angel.”

Of course I was, I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Nuzzling against his chest, I stared at the oven right behind us as the timer ticked. The faint smell of strawberry came into place as soon as I remembered what happened before Dew joined me. There was flour everywhere and I was positive I had a lot of it all over my face and down my skirt, but it didn’t matter. Luckily, the cupcakes weren’t burning and nobody stole them. But they could have been stolen!

Dewdrop loved to distract me while the rest of the ghouls caused mischief all over the Clergy.

“Do I deserve a cupcake for what I just did to you?”

Raising my brows, I pulled away from his chest. “Did you just ask me to give you a cupcake in exchange for an orgasm?”

The ghoul shrugged. “I think it’s a fair deal.”

Playfully I shoved him away from me and walked to the kitchen window. The smell of strawberries, mixed with the vanilla flavour, was almost dizzying - and so were the words of Dewdrop echoing in my head.

“I can give you even more, if you’d just ask.”

By more, he obviously meant his cock - and despite me being desperate for the ghoul, I couldn’t be distracted. Not again, not when the cupcakes were in the oven. One slight distraction would’ve led them to burn - and the Cardinal to be upset over not having a well-deserved dessert for his birthday.

“Go to your room, horny ghoul.” I mumbled, pointing to the door of the kitchen. “You and your forked tongue are dangerous.”

His tail wiggled behind his back. “You love me.”

“More than I can explain.”

Dewdrop walked out of the room and I could hear Aether running up to him, probably plotting against another attempt at stealing my cupcakes.

I wasn’t surprised to find them gone by the morning.

[decks-writing-blog]

Emotional Support Gnome

Summary: Alyx helps transport the gnome.

[A/N] In my recently completed play through of the HL2 Ep 2 VR mod I found the gnome (I didn't in my play through of the normal game) so I decided to get the achievement. It was fun until I reached the car but then it got better when I figured out how to glitch the gnome into being much more secure in the car. Also, I didn't know you could leave the gnome behind when going off with the Vortigaunt to get the stuff to save Alyx (I only know now because I looked up tips for the car bit which only kind of helped and skimmed through and found that tidbit of info) and thus because of the way climbing ladders works in the VR mod, getting it out of the pit that you fall into in that part of the game was a bit of a pain but I managed. While I was there I came up with the idea to write a fic about Gordon transporting the gnome in which Alyx and the Vortigaunt helps him with said gnome because that's a neat idea. It provides some nice championship opportunities which Gordon desperately needs.

Also, Lamarr gets dragged out of the rocket because I'm sad she gets sent to space. I love her with all my heart and soul and want her to live. Gordon probably doesn't like her but Kleiner is his pal so he saves her for him.

~

After hanging up the call, Alyx turned to face Gordon again. Whatever she’d been about to say vanished from her mind at the sight of him though. “Is that a garden gnome?” She’d seen garden gnomes before so it wasn’t that out there but turning around to see him of all people randomly holding one made it a bit more strange.

He looked up at her for just a moment before turning his gaze back onto the gnome in his hands. Taking one hand off, he lifted it to sign a, “Yes.”

“Where’d you find it?” She would’ve noticed it if it were out in the open. It was fairly big and even with the faded paint, it was eye catching.

Gordon pointed to old rickety bed frame, angled down a bit. So under the bed. An odd place to find a garden gnome since one would think they mostly resided in gardens but with how messed up the world was why wouldn’t one somehow end up under a bed?

She almost stepped over and bent down to see if there was anything else interesting under there but… they had important stuff to do and the Combine were who even knew how close to finding them? They didn’t have time to goof off and look for hidden lawn decorations. “Uh, okay. We should probably get going.”

Switching his hold on the gnome to one armed hugging it to his chest, with it faced outwards, Gordon started for the door. Apparently the gnome was coming with them. With a shrug, Alyx followed. Who was she to question Gordon Freeman? Maybe he just liked gnomes. They were kind of cute after all.

And even if the situation was rather urgent it was good to see a less serious side of him finally. Before all this she’d have never thought she’d meet someone as cool and badass as the Gordon Freeman. But now they were somehow good enough friends for him to relax around her a little. How cool was that?

***

The fall shouldn’t have killed the Freeman. He’d survived much worse many times. And if his time were to ever come it wouldn’t be at the bottom of a pit. But still he was taking an awful long time to come back up. Time they did have – the others could keep the Alyx Vance stable for days if need be –but it wouldn’t be wise to push it if they could help it, especially with the Combine on the hunt for the Freeman and the Alyx Vance. … Perhaps the ladder didn’t descend all the way down and thus he needed assistance.

Abandoning the watch for antlions – none seemed likely to be coming anyway – they made their way over the edge to look down over it. … The ladder did seem to descend all the way to the watery bottom so that wasn’t the issue. Instead it was the little statue the Freeman had been carrying since they’d met up. He held it to his chest with one arm, twisting his wrist so he could grasp the ladder, allowing him to let go with the other and raise it to a higher rung. Not much higher though, too far and he’d likely loose his precarious grip on the statue. As a result, his progress was slow, he wasn’t even halfway up yet.

“Do you require assistance, Freeman?” They were not going to ask him to drop it. It was clearly important even if its purpose was beyond their comprehension.

The Freeman flinched at their raised voice, freezing in place. He then tilted his head to look up at them. But alas with his hands busy and his voice seemingly nonexistent, he had no means of giving an answer. Oh, if only he could connect to the Vortessence, eliminating the need for such paltry forms of communication.

“I will lower down a rope with a loop for your statue.” The least they could do for the Freeman was assist him in what was clearly an important endeavor.

Finding a rope long enough was surprisingly easy. Upon tying a loop at the end of it big enough to allow the statue to fit – all the Freeman would have to do was tighten it to prevent the statue from falling out – they lowered it over the edge. The Freeman had made it up a little further but not by much. Ever intelligent and dexterous, he managed to get the statue into the loop and tighten it while remaining on the ladder.

As he started climbing properly now, they slowly pulled the statue up, careful not to bump it against the wall. As a result, the Freeman reached the top a few seconds before the statue did. He stood by as they finished pulling it up to hand to him.

Before accepting it, he lifted his hands to sign, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” For humans repeating something meant emphasis, meaning this was quite an important statue indeed.

“We are glad to be of service. Now let us continue.”

***

There were not one but two giant fucking antlions. Did the deterrents work on them too? … Hopefully because Alyx was about to find out the hard way as the pain radiating up from the freshly healed wound in her back and abdomen made the prospect of continuing forward into the fray proper a very unappealing one. Lucky for her she had a vortigaunt and Gordon on her side.

Speaking of Gordon, he turned to her, his gaze intent. Checking on her? … No, to shove the gnome into her arms, giving her almost no option but to accept it. He then immediately turned away, pulling his shotgun off where it was magnetized to his HEV suit as he rushed towards the antlion guardians.

“What am I suppose to do with this?” She called after him.

He didn’t even turn back to look at her.

“One would assume he wishes you to keep it safe while we deal with the antlions,” the vortigaunt said as he blasted one of the braver antlions that had dared to approach a bit closer than the others.

Damn it. She wasn’t good for much else in her current state so she’d been put on gnome guard duty. “Fine, whatever.” Only because Gordon had asked her to though. At least she wasn’t completely useless; she could keep a garden decoration intact, no problem.

~

After the battle, Gordon returned to her. “You okay?”

“As okay as I can be.” She was still weaker than she’d like and would’ve appreciated a chance to sit down but they didn’t have the time to so no use complaining. “I kept your gnome safe too. See? Completely intact.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask what’s the deal with it though? I mean like… no judgment of course just… it’s a bit odd. Not that that’s a bad thing, nothing wrong with being odd, some people think I’m a bit odd and that’s fine. But like… you know.” She was messing this up real bad. Way to go her. “There’s a lot going on and it’s a bit much to carry around and stuff.” She’d have assumed he would’ve left is somewhere as soon as carrying it became inconvenient.

Gordon lifted his hands as if to answer but held them there for several seconds before finally doing so. “I don’t know.” He then took the gnome from her with the gravity gun before turning away and continuing.

“Wait. What do you mean you don’t know?”

He didn’t turn to respond. Odd as the gnome was, that answer was even odder. How could he not know why he was carrying around a gnome even despite all the problems keeping it intact was already causing? He was running around without a proper weapon out for Pete’s sake, there had to be a reason for that. But… they didn’t have time to sit around and talk about it. So with a sigh, she set into a light jog, about as fast as she could make herself go currently, to catch up.

~

Well if Gordon was wondering off into a toxic filled pit while Alyx was stuck up here… “You want me to keep the gnome safe for you?” The amount of times it had almost taken damage had seemed to cause him some distress. Not that he was easy to read, especially when he had the HEV suit’s helmet up, but he had looked the gnome over rather closely every time something almost happened to it.

He turned to face her, the gnome held by the gravity gun in his hands. Seemingly he thought about it for several seconds before nodding and lifting it up for her to take.

“I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

He lifted a hand to sign a quick, “Thank you,” before turning and heading through.

After closing the door behind him, she turned to the vortigaunt. Some of them came up with names for themselves that humans could pronounce, some didn’t. She’d have loved to have a name for this one after everything they’d done for her. Would it be rude to ask for one? … Possibly so for now she wouldn’t. Instead… “What do you think might be Gordon’s deal with this gnome?”

“It is clearly of great importance.”

“Well yeah, but why?”

“It is not my place to question the Freeman and what is important to him or why. Besides, you are both human. I feel your ability to understand him far exceeds mine.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” Understanding other people was never something she’d been particularly good at either though. She’d spent too much of her time growing up working in the lab to waste time getting good at interacting with people. “It’s just… at fist I thought it was for fun. Like it was something that was silly and not a big deal. That he thinks it’s cute or something so he wanted to carry it with him for a bit. But now I’m not so sure. And I’m not sure why but it just feels really weird. Like maybe it’s… not necessarily a bad thing but uh… like I should be worried about it or something.”

“Ask him when he returns?”

She could and maybe even should but… “We don’t really have time to stand around talking about stuff.” And she wouldn’t at all know how to ask without it perhaps sounding like she was suggesting he abandon the gnome which would be rather rude. “And it might be nothing, just him being a little weird. Which I think he’s earned the right to after everything he’s done for humanity.” She hadn’t thought about it before but he’d had an awful lot of weight resting on his shoulders for a while now. Even if he could bear it well and had so far fulfilled those expectations, it was probably still stressful. So why shouldn’t he be entitled to a little weirdness and an emotional support gnome?

~

Naturally, when climbing into the car with Gordon at the wheel, the gnome ended up in Alyx’s lap. She was quickly becoming just as much this thing’s protector as Gordon himself was. That was fine though. Even if it was a bit inconvenient at times, it was the least she could do. It still struck her as vaguely worrying but… probably it was just stress from the whole almost dying thing and the Combine being after them. Gordon was just a bit weird, she could respect that and it was rather charming.

~

Despite Gordon having been the one to almost end up as the Advisor’s meal – or whatever it had planned to do to him with its long tentacle tongue thing – he was the one helping Alyx to her feet. He had the HEV suit, yeah, but still.

“You okay?” he asked, his hands moving fast enough that she’d doubt she’d have been able to read it if it had been signs she wasn’t as familiar with.

“Yeah, I think so. What about…” She cut off as he turned and hurried away. Had he heard more Combine coming or… no, he was looking for the gnome. Which did at least mean he was probably okay… physically at least.

It didn’t take him long to find it. The bit of its hat that had been chipped off at the tip was a bit more pronounced now, the whole tip had broken off, noticeable even from over here. Gordon rubbed his thumb over it as he stared it.

“It’s mostly intact,” Alyx said as she joined him. “It’s got a flat tip now so uh… we could maybe paint over it later and it’ll look fine.”

He looked up at her for a moment, his face utterly unreadable, before looking down at it again. What he might be feeling was impossible for her to even guess but it couldn’t be good, could it? The gnome wasn’t just a silly fun thing if he’d been that worried about it. Before she could ask him about why it was so important to him though, a familiar thud of boots came from uncomfortably close to the room they were in, coming their way. “Combine.”

Gordon turned and quickly found a hiding spot for the gnome, turning back around just in time for said Combine soldiers to burst through the door.

~

A clatter and a familiar headcrab call drew Alyx’s gaze up to the rocket. Gordon was at the hatch, pulling Lamarr out of it. She wasn’t going easy but fighting and struggling the whole way. To no avail though, Gordon was far stronger than her, forcing her out without seemingly much effort at all. Then, holding her to his chest, he jumped down over the railing, landing with a clank that betrayed how heavy the HEV suit was. He then made his way back over to them and extend Lamarr towards Dad, clearly wanting him to take her as she squirmed and shrieked as loud as she could. Which was just loud enough to be annoying.

“Get that thing out of here or make it shut up,” Magnusson called from over by the control panel.

Dad let out a long suffering sigh as he accepted Lamarr from Gordon. She didn’t like to be held by him either but did calm down a little bit. “I suppose I’ll get her out of her before Manugsson gets any more insistent about it. I’ll finish catching up with you two later, okay?”

“Sure thing, catch up with you more in a bit.” Alyx might’ve gone with him but her curiosity about what Gordon was up to as immediately upon his hands being freed of Lamarr he’d turned head back up to the hatch again, was too strong. So as Dad left for the elevator, she followed Gordon.

There being only room up there for one she couldn’t follow him up it and thus couldn’t see what he did as he reached into the hatch. “What are you doing up there?” Was he doing some kind of super smart fix the others hadn’t caught? … Probably not. Likely he was just fixing whatever Lamarr had disturbed.

Either way he didn’t reply as he pulled back and shut the hatch before jumping down again, once more not bothering to take the safer way down. Hopefully once it came time for him to take the suit off, he’d remember to not do that anymore. For now though, she wouldn’t say anything as he sat on the railing surrounding the rocket. Instead…

“Where’s the gnome?” She looked around but… it was nowhere in sight. Gordon had brought it in as always and of course he’d had to have to put it down to grab Lamarr. But he should’ve picked it up again immediately like he’d been doing. Of course they were in a safe space now so maybe he was more okay with not holding it as much as possible but it still had to be nearby, right?

As she looked back at him for an answer, he pointed up towards the top of the platform by the rocket’s hatch. The gnome wasn’t up there though so… “In the rocket?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, uh… why?” That was the least safe spot for it around here.

He lifted hand hands and held them there for several second before replying. “I’m sending it to space. It’ll break if I keep carrying it around.”

Finally he was leaving it, making things easier for both of them. But… “Why don’t you just leave it here? I’m sure Dad would gladly keep it safe for you.”

Another long hesitation before Gordon answered. “I need to cut ties. It’s not a person so I need to stop and get rid of it but I don’t want to throw it a way or break it. Sending it to space feels right.”

Alyx’s hunch that the gnome had long ago ceased being a small fun thing was right. Whether it was a sign of something she should be worried about was still unclear. She leaned back against the wall as she lifted her hands to sign back. It meant she spoke a bit slower as she was still better at reading sign language than forming her own sentences in it but Magnusson was still on the other side of the rocket and if they finally had some time to talk, she wanted to do it without him overhearing if she could help it. “It’s okay to care about objects. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know but… this isn’t that. It’s not normal. I need to stop.”

So… it was something to be worried about? Gordon certainly seemed to be implying it was but he was just so hard to read. His face was impassive and his hands as he signed weren’t particularly expressive. … He looked tired. She was too. Everyone was, right? Who couldn’t be tired when all of this was happening? They were getting closer and closer to freeing themselves of the Combine and that was great but as far as they’d come, there was still a lot to do. But he’d done the most out of any of them and was likely to do even more. And he was only human.

Everyone put him up on a pedestal, expecting so much of him. Even she had, how could she not after growing up hearing the ways people talked about him? After seeing from a distance the things he’d done that seemed almost inhuman? But the more time she spent with the more obvious it became that he was just guy like the rest of them. Smart and strong and blessed with a seeming endless supply of luck but still just a man. One who’d been through a lot. After the Black Mesa incident he’d been put into stasis and dropped into all of what was happening now.

“Are you okay?” How had she never thought to ask that before? She’d always assumed that he was despite how obvious it was was in hindsight that he might not be.

He lifted a hand but paused for a few moments before forming it into a, “No.” Sighing, he lowered it again, offering no further explanation.

Alyx pushed off the wall and walked over to stand next to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered because she didn’t know what else to say. Putting a hand on his shoulder, the HEV suit’s metal was surprisingly somewhat warm, probably because of the power running through it. “Do you… wanna go find a place to sit down and rest a bit? We don’t have to talk about it or… anything if you don’t want to. But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

For the first time perhaps ever, certainly since she’d met him, his mask cracked, revealing the same kind of look a dying man gave a potential savior. “Please.”

Keeping her hand on his shoulder, offering whatever little comfort it could give when he probably couldn’t even feel it, she started guiding him back towards the elevator. Before they were even halfway there though, alarms started blaring as lights flashed, making both of them flinch.

Magnusson cursed, damn he was still here. “Gosh dang it. Gordon, since you’re still here, go make yourself useful and deal with that. It’s probably just crows again but maybe you can use your smarts to figure out how to make it stop going off all the time.”

Gordon’s face hardened once more as he pulled his crowbar off his chest and turned to obey. Alyx wanted to protest, insist he deserved a rest, let someone else handle it for once. But if it wasn’t a false alarm, he was still the best man for the job. It wasn’t fair but… life wasn’t fair.

~

[A/N] I imagine the way Alyx interacts with him following this is a bit different but ultimately the events would play out the same and this is about the gnome so I decided to leave it here.

[goldenempyrean]

sick reader/yelena On a date using the prompts “I think im coming down with something.” and “Your cheeks are flushed” (i saw a post where you said you could try writing for yelena and it made me happy cuz she doesn’t have a lot of fics so i hope you don’t mind writing for her)

Close Enough

Hey, hey, hey! Well heres another fic for you, I think it turned out pretty cute :)

Summary: You'd wanted to ask Yelena to be your girlfriend, but it seems fate had other ideas

Wordcount: 1035

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“Oh hey.” You smiled as Yelena came towards your table, you stood up to greet her, being surprised when she pulled you into a tight hug, “It's good to see you too.” You smiled, replying to her silent message. 

This would’ve been the 5th date that you’d gone on with the beautiful blonde-haired woman. You’d met a few months ago at your local coffee shop, not far from where you were now actually, you’d both ordered the exact same drink and had picked each other's up, only realising when you both read the others name on your cup. From there, well you’d just clicked. It was like your whole world had been leading up to that exact moment where you’d fallen head over heels in love with her without ever speaking a word. 

It seemed fate was on your side, from that day you’d seen her in that same coffee shop at the same time you’d come in for your daily coffee, each time you’d exchange brief conversations before. Only day you had finally mustered up the courage to ask her on a date and to your great surprise, she said yes. 

Everything had been going well between you two and you, more than well infact, it was going amazing. So, you were sure that tonight would be the night where you’d make it official, tonight would be the night where you would ask Yelena to officially be your girlfriend. Which was why when you’d woken up late that morning feeling like you’d been hit by a truck, you couldn’t help but groan. Maybe fate wasn’t on your side after all... 

Your head was pounding behind your eyes, it felt almost as if it were about to burst from your skull but looking across at the beautiful woman sat opposite you, it was impossible to not feel a little better.  

It was Yelena’s voice which pulled you from your dazed out-haze, “Y/N?” She’d repeated your name, looking towards you with concern behind her eyes, “You alright over there? Your cheeks look flushed.” 

“Oh.” You felt yourself blush with embarrassment, further reddening your cheeks, “It's probably just the lighting in here.” You said, pointing up at the dim light on the roof. 

“Maybe.” She replied, although she didn’t sound too convinced but changed the subject anyhow, “What are you fancying for dinner?” 

Oh yeah, you hadn't really thought of that. You really didn’t have much of an appetite, scanning your eyes down to the menu you were looking for something light, something like- Aha! 

“I’ll just have the Caesar salad.” You said as you put the menu back, desperately trying to ignore the tickle which had slowly started irritating your nose. 

“You sure? Normally you’d get that as a side dish or- oh, bless you!” Yelena said with surprise as you suddenly turned away and sneezed down into your elbow. 

You sniffled thickly, knowing you weren't quite finished, “Excuse me for a sec’.” Your breath hitched as you scrambled to excuse yourself,  

“Hh’tshh! Hh’itshhiew!” You’d sneezed another 2 times before finally reaching the bathroom, you sighed. She had definitely seen that. 

You went into a stall and ripped off some of the toilet paper, taking it to blow your nose, trying your best to not smudge your makeup. But of course, it didn’t do much to stop your concealer from coming off, revealing the red edges of your nose, you sighed as you looked over yourself in the mirror, wishing you could just hide in here until Yelena went home. 

Taking a deep breath, you readied yourself to back out, not wanting to leave Yelena alone at the table for much longer, only that familiar itch made itself known again, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be Hh kidding Hih- me,” You managed to say to yourself just before your body gave in to the itch, “Hhu’tshhiew! Hh’iiishHIEW! Hh-” 

You felt the gust of air flood into the room as the door the bathroom opened, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed but still you weren't able to see who had entered, the irritating tickle in your nose had all of your attention in that current moment. 

“Hh’HhiTsshhiEW! Hup’ttshoo!” You let out a stuffy groan, finally feeling the itch resolve. It was then that you brought your head out of your elbow, and as your eyes met the mirror, you almost gasped seeing Yelena standing behind you, a look of blatant concern sitting on her face. 

“Can I say bless you now? I didn’t want to interrupt you.” She joked, her tone softening as she approached you, gently moving the hair which had fallen infront of your face, “I knew something was up with you, you sound ill.” 

“I think Im coming down with something.” Your eyes fell down towards your feet as you quietly admitted it. 

“It seems like it, here.” She turned to grab you some tissue from the stall which she was standing infront of. She let you blow your nose before continuing, “I asked for them to put our food into takeout containers.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I figured we could eat it back at my home, It’ll be easier for me to look after you there,” She said, looking down to the rough-feeling tissue in your hands, “Plus I have decent tissues too at my apartment, that okay with you?” 

“Of course, Im okay with that.” You smiled, pulling her into a hug. 

She smiled and took your hand, leading you from the bathroom and back to your table, stopping at the register to collect your meals which had been neatly packaged up. The pair of you thanked the waiting staff and were just about to step out onto the street when Yelena stopped again, taking off the small yellow cardigan which she had been wearing before pulling it around your shoulders. 

“We don’t want you to get the chills now, do we?” She whispered into your ear as she held the door open for you. 

Walking along the street, you were warmed by the material and you couldn’t help but thank your lucky stars for the day you met Yelena. Maybe you weren't quite official yet, but this was close enough.