#will update soon i suppose but i anticipate it going like this

[bucket-o-slime]

fuckfuckfuck

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?"

Synopsis: Toji meets Megumi's new preschool teacher and immediately develops a crush.

Pairings: single dad! toji x f! reader

Wc: 2.3K

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, a tiny bit of angst, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, toji being soft, mentions of shiu, shiu and toji work together, shiu being an idiot (lol sorry he'll get love in another fic) , everyone is happy bc I said so

a/n: omg, first fic, we made it! barely proofread, sorry for mistakes. also, tysm for 1,000 followers here! the other two fics that were on that poll will be coming soon!

update: pt 2 here

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

Toji’s Fushiguro’s muscles ache. The job he took was harder than he anticipated, and it took way longer than it was supposed to. After confirming that the payment from the job is in his account, he calls Shiu Kong so he could check in on the kids. “About damn time,” Shiu scoffs when the line connects. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you until sunrise.” 

“Job’s done,” Toji says as he gets into his car, settling into the drivers’ seat with an exhausted sigh. “I hear the TV in the background. Better be cartoons or something age-appropriate.” 

Shiu laughs. “Of course, what else? ‘M not getting cussed out by you. Anyway, you comin’ back with Megumi? Can’t believe you took him on the job with you. Once you’re back, I can get out of here.” 

Toji’s heart nearly stops. He sits up in his seat, gripping the phone so hard that the screen nearly cracks from his strength. “The fuck did you just say?” 

“Huh?” 

“Megumi isn’t with you?!” Toji’s voice booms in the car. On the other line, he hears Shiu gulp. “I… I thought he was with you.” 

“You idiot! I asked you to pick him up from preschool around the same time you pick up Tsumiki from her school because I knew this would take a while!” 

“You did?!” Shiu asks, and then it goes quiet; him more than likely flipping through his messages to double check. “...Shit,” he breathes out. 

Toji inhales sharply, then exhales shakily in an attempt to calm the rage, and even the fear that pools in his gut. “If anything has happened to my fucking son, Kong, I will murder you and make your death look like an accident. Keep an eye on Tsumiki.” 

“Fushiguro, I swear, I-” Toji hangs up before Shiu can explain himself further, then he starts the car. 

He grips the steering wheel hard, and his breathing picks up as his mind spins with every horrific scenario possible. The preschool closes at six thirty. It was close to nine. He didn’t see any missed calls from them. On a normal day, he’d be done before work with plenty of time to pick up his four year-old son, but today’s job was far more difficult and required more time. 

The car speeds down the street leading to his destination. He’s half-expecting to see Megumi sitting outside with his backpack, clinging to his dog plushie and crying. Or worse, he’s not there at all; because this world is full of terrible people, and they won’t hesitate to steal a small, unsupervised boy. His heart aches at the thought, and he shoves it away before he feels the need to throw up. He’ll be okay, he thinks to himself. Everything is going to be fine. 

—

When Toji arrives at the preschool, he rushedly parks lopsidedly in the lot, then exits the car. His eyes scan the steps leading up to the front, and when he doesn’t see Megumi outside, he rushes to the door. 

He sees a security guard in a booth, and before Toji can even ask any questions, the guard gives him a small smile and nod, pressing a button that unlocks the door to the preschool with a click. Toji’s shoulders slump in relief. They were expecting him. That meant Megumi is still here and safe. 

Toji nods back at the guard in thanks, and rushes down the dimly-lit hallway. He sees a light coming from a classroom that still has its door open, and he slows his steps when he hears a child giggling. His child. 

Then it’s followed up by a beautiful, melodic laugh that makes him stop in his tracks. It’s a lovely sound; one that his heart skips to, and one that gently rings in his ears even plenty of seconds after it stops. 

Toji peeks into the classroom to see Megumi comfortably resting in a pillow fort, and you, kneeling beside a lamp and using your hands to make shadow puppets on the wall to entertain him. “Alright,” you say softly as you rearrange your hands and fingers. “What’s this one?” 

You smile as you watch Megumi hum thoughtfully, and Toji is transfixed by you. Who are you? Where did you come from? Since when did Megumi get a new teacher? Why is your smile so bright and so beautiful that the sun would envy? Why is his heart beating wildly in his chest at the sight of you? Fuck, why is he staring? 

“Ooh!” Megumi gasps as he figures out the animal you made with your hands. “Rabbit!” 

“Correct, great job!” You reach forward and give him a high-five. “I think you’ll really like this next one,” you say, and Megumi giggles again as he sits up, completely focused and ready to guess. “Ready?” You ask, and the boy nods. 

Toji crosses his arms, quietly leans against the door of the classroom, and watches, unaware of the soft smile that creeps onto his face. When you put your hands in front of the light, and the shape of the animal displays in front of Megumi, he squeals excitedly and stands up. “Doggy!” He shouts with a wide grin and pulls up his favorite dog plushie that he takes with him everywhere, imitating the sounds a dog would make. You break out into laughter, and Toji nearly stops breathing so he can fully take in the sound of it again.

Beautiful, he thinks. You’re so fucking beautiful. 

Megumi’s eyes flicker towards the door, and he gasps before running as fast as he can towards Toji. “Papa!” 

“Hey, Megs.” Toji kneels down, hugs the small boy against his chest before picking him up in his strong arms, sighing in relief as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s okay, and he doesn’t look too upset that he was here for this long. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Are you alright?” 

“Yeah!” Megumi pulls away, then gestures towards you, who watched the tender reunion with a sweet smile. “Ms. [Y/L/N] played so many fun games with me!” 

“Aw, I’m so happy you had fun, Megumi.” You take a step closer so you’re standing in front of Toji, slightly lifting your head upward to meet his eyes due to his height. “We tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Megumi said that it does that sometimes. He took a nap earlier, but I’m sure he’ll be sleepy soon after all of those games. I also gave him dinner earlier.” 

“That’s… I just-” Toji struggles to find words, especially when you slightly tilt your head to the side and blink slowly. He exhales, then snaps himself out of his daze. “Thank you so much,” he says. “Are you new? I swear, I’m not usually this late.” Great. Megumi’s pretty teacher might think I’m just the worst parent on this damn planet. 

You nod. “Yes, I’m new. Today was my first day with this angel,” You use a finger to gently boop Megumi’s nose, and he smiles, shyly burying his face into Toji’s shoulder, “and the other kids. I figured you might’ve been held up at work or something. It’s okay. Things happen. Besides, he’s such a well-behaved kid. I didn’t mind spending this much time with him.” 

Toji places Megumi on the ground, then gently taps his shoulder. “Let’s grab your stuff, okay?” As he helps Megumi pack his backpack, Toji bites back a smile when he sees you watching him out of the corner of his eye. He notes the way you fiddle with your hands and avert your gaze after catching yourself. 

You walk over to your desk and open a drawer, pulling out three suckers from a sealed jar. Once Megumi had all of his things packed, you kneel before him, handing him the suckers one by one. “Here you go. One for you, one for your sister, and one for your dad. I can tell he works really, really hard.” 

Toji doesn’t hide his smile this time; it was impossible, especially when Megumi accepts them excitedly. “Candy! Thank you!” He hugs you gently, and you return it, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “You’re so welcome. Thanks for being so sweet today. You made my first day so fun.” 

A muffled gasp coming from outside has the three of you looking towards the window. Toji sees Tsumiki’s face squished against the glass with her usual, excited smile, and Shiu Kong standing beside her, looking relieved when he sees Megumi safe and sound. He purposely avoids Toji’s glare. 

The sound of Megumi’s small yawn gets his attention, and Toji’s gaze softens when the boy rubs his tired eyes. “Aw, ‘m sorry. It’s past your bedtime. Let’s get you home.” He leans down to pick him up again, and once you have your belongings, the two of you leave the building together. 

When you three make it outside, you face Toji and Megumi. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Megumi,” you say quietly to him, who is slowly beginning to drift off. Then you look up at Toji, who is softly smiling at you. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, too, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, you will.” 

You wave goodbye, and Toji makes sure you get into your car safely. “Hey, Megs,” Toji gently shakes Megumi as he watches you drive out of the parking lot. “Do you know her name?” 

“Ms. [Y/L/N]” 

He chuckles. “No, kid, her first name.” 

“I dunno,” Megumi mumbles before closing his eyes and resting his cheek on Toji’s shoulder. “Sleepy, papa.” 

“Ah, there they are!” Shiu exclaims, and Toji would’ve thrown a punch if his son wasn’t in his arms, and if his seven year-old daughter wasn’t happily skipping towards him. “Hi, papa!” 

“Hi, sweets, how was school today?” 

“Good,” Tsumiki says, then grins mischievously as she points to the spot where your car was just a minute ago. “You like her!” She teases. “You wanna hug her and kiss her and give her chocolates!” 

“Alright, you.” Toji rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he uses his free arm to lift up a giggly Tsumiki, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Both of you should be in bed. Let’s get home.” 

“Aw, okay.” Tsumiki then leans forward to gently kiss her sleeping baby brother’s cheek. “Night, Gumi.” 

Toji secures both Tsumiki and Megumi in his car, and then faces Shiu, who is smiling nervously. “Well, look at that. Megumi’s doing great and you even developed a crush. How cute. All’s well that ends well.” 

“Very cute, but guess what?” 

“What?” 

Toji finally throws a swift punch at Shiu’s jaw, greatly holding back his strength so it wouldn’t break. Shiu stumbles, then groans, cupping his face with his hands. “Okay, fine, I deserved that.” 

“Damn right,” Toji says as he opens the door to the driver’s seat. “See you later.” 

—

Toji almost never stresses about his appearance in the mornings. After all, it was just dropping off the kids. But this morning, he frets over which shirt would look better with the jeans he picked out, if he should wear a different type of cologne, or if he should slick his hair back. 

All because he’s seeing you again. 

He decides to skip the new cologne and go for his usual, simple one, dresses in a dark shirt to match the jeans, and also ditches the idea of slicking his hair. Once the kids are ready for the day, he leaves early and goes to a coffee shop to pick up a medium cup of coffee. First, he drops Tsumiki off at school, then he takes Megumi to preschool. 

Toji spots you almost immediately. You were out in the front amongst the other preschool teachers, parents and their kids, wearing a gorgeous yellow top and simple blue jeans. When you see Toji and Megumi approaching, you pause your conversation with your coworker and walk over to them. Toji decides that he likes that, and that he loves the way you kneel in front of Megumi to meet his eye level, telling him good morning and asking if he was excited for the day. 

You raise to your feet, Toji hands you the cup of coffee he purchased earlier. “For you,” he says, “As a thank you for everything yesterday.” 

“Aw.” Your eyes light up as you accept the cup. “Mr. Fushiguro, this—” 

“Toji,” he corrects softly, and he ignores the way his heart stutters when your smile grows. 

“Well, Toji, this is lovely. Thank you so much.” 

“I never caught your name last night.” 

You tell him your name, and Toji tests it once. From the way you shyly avert your gaze, he can tell you that like the way it sounds in his voice. Megumi clears his throat, and Toji looks down to see him staring up at him, his brow raised in suspicion. “You never stay this long. Don’t you have to go to work?” 

Damn, kid. Thought we were on the same team. 

You laugh as Toji rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Megumi—a gesture that the four year-old returns immediately. “Well, he’s right, gotta get going,” Toji says, looking back up at you. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yes.” You nod, then point to the warm cup in your hands. “Thanks again for the coffee. Have a great day at work.” 

“You too.” Toji then gently ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Be good.” 

He doesn’t realize how big he’s smiling until he’s back in the car, and he sighs as he remembers Shiu’s words from the night before. A crush. That word seems so silly. He’s not a teen in high school. Toji looks up just in time to watch you take Megumi’s hand and lead him inside the building with the other children, and he chuckles to himself as he starts the car up.

Maybe “silly” was okay when you’re this pretty.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[inurnctdreams]

dress - m.l

idol!mark x idol fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship, one shot, song fic (maybe?? i wouldn’t class it as one but there are references to lyrics and the song inspired the fic so??)

warnings: swearing, very suggestive (grinding, making out, over the clothes stuff but no explicit sex), alcohol, mentions of being tipsy/drunk (mark and reader have been drinking but everything is consensual), pet names (baby, babe, pretty girl, mine/yours, dude (affectionate)), mdni

wc: 3.1k

notes: this entire thing stemmed from this gifset that gave me mark brainrot and made me think of the song dress by taylor swift

you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to be paying attention to the conversation happening in front of you right now. one of the executives for mbc… or was it kbs? whoever it was, they were important in the industry and they were talking at you and your group mates about your latest comeback stage… or maybe next year’s end of year concert that was already in the planning stages? you’d kind of stopped listening about five minutes ago. and it wasn’t your fault, really. you took your career seriously and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting anyone who was showing interest in your group by ignoring them usually, but you’d heard zhong chenle’s signature dolphin laugh across the room and that had been it. he’s here.

it would obviously be absolutely, outrageously scandalous for you to take off mid conversation, make a beeline for the group that had walked in and greet him like you want to. you have some modicum of self control and societal responsibility. and it isn’t a surprise, you knew he’d be here, you’d even gotten updates via text with a rough estimate of when he’d walk in. but you haven’t seen him in person in over three weeks and you’ve been looking forward to this night since the last time he’d kissed you goodbye at your door before sneaking back out of your dorm building to his car. 3am on a tuesday morning had turned out to be the only time the both of you were in the same city and without obligations in months. comebacks, tours, interviews. both of your lives were so hectic, it was difficult enough to get a moment to yourself to breathe, let alone together. now he’s here, in the same room as you, and you can’t do anything about it. the anticipation is killing you.

it hadn’t stopped you from pausing mid sentence when you’d registered his presence, though. disguising it with a cough and a modest apology, you’d finished your words and promptly stopped contributing to the conversation. smiling politely with your best poker face on as you tuned out of whatever was being discussed further and listened out across the room for any sign of him. chenle’s laugh is infectious, so donghyuck’s high pitched giggles soon joined in, audible above the rumble of laughter that had erupted from that corner of the room. but that was it. once the joke had worn off, the usual sounds of casual conversation replaced it, no doubt one of the older members’ doing as they reminded them of their surroundings. the first hour or so of award show after parties tend to be just the thing you’re ignoring: prominent figures in the industry congratulating and backhandedly complimenting idols whilst trying to promote something or take advantage of rookies with less media training by getting them to reveal secrets or agree to things.

once they’ve either gotten what they wanted or given up trying, they make their way out and the real party starts. realising you’re going to get nothing from the indiscernible voices in their direction, you start to work out how long you’ve been here, and how long you have to wait before it won’t be suspicious of you to drag your group over there to greet them. unfortunately, you’re interrupted midway through your mental calculations by something digging into your side. it’s gone before you even register the touch, light and inconspicuous. you glance down momentarily before meeting the eyes of your group mate, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“sorry, i didn’t quite catch that last bit.” your years of experience in the spotlight and exceptional training kick in immediately. you turn back to the middle-aged man in front of you with a practised innocent smile. “what were you saying?”

you smile graciously at the waitress as she hands you a flute of expensive champagne off of the shiny silver tray in her hand. taking a small sip, you school your face into a neutral expression to hide the wince at the acidic taste. you’ve never been much of a fan of the stuff, but it’s always handed out at events so you’ve gotten somewhat used to it in the years you’ve been legally allowed to drink at them. this is your second glass, and yet again you find yourself longing for the boring portion of the night to be over so the alcohol can start flowing more freely. you meet the eyes of your group mate and share a look, she hates champagne too. giggling to yourselves, you almost don’t notice the group of twenty-something boys heading in your direction, led by taeyong.

you’re immediately at full attention, straightening up from the pillar you’d been leaning against and placing your half full champagne flute on the nearest surface as you grin at your friends approaching. it’s almost comical, how the amount of people surrounding you in that moment feels like you’re looking for him in a crowd rather than just among his own group members. but then yuta moves to say hi to your group mate and there he is. god, he looks heavenly. the all black ensemble complimented by silver jewellery, his artfully tousled hair, the hint of gloss that have his lips looking so shiny and kissable it’s taking all of your entire being not to ravish him right here and now in the middle of this crowded room. not that he needs any of it to start up the roaring of butterflies in your stomach or trigger the giddy high you’re feeling. no, mark lee makes you feel like this every time he looks at you. barefaced, old t-shirt and glasses on with a hint of stubble starting to grow in as you sit next to him in the studio. bleary eyed, half asleep and hair sticking up as your phone alarm goes off on his bedside table. hoodie, snapback and face mask hiding most of his face as he slips into your practise room and catches your gaze in the mirror.

“y/n.” and everything just stops. the rest of the room falls away, the roar of conversation as your groups say hi is silenced, all you can see, hear, feel is him. the way he looks you up and down appreciatively that still makes your heart flutter despite it happening every time he sees you. he just has this way of making you feel like you’re the only one his attention would ever be captured by.

“hi, mark.” there’s a smile on your face, and you’re trying to make it your usual polite idol, public appearance smile, but really you have no control and you can feel the corners of your mouth turning up further against your will. you think that if you looked, his would be similar, probably that mischievous half-smirk he does that makes his dimple appear. and you love his dimple, but you’re currently captivated by the lovestruck look in his eyes. in that moment, you’re thankful you’d put your glass down because you would’ve dropped it. your hands shake as you force yourself to hold back from him. your groups are publicly very good friends, having known each other as trainees and debuting within a year of each other. you and mark have been best friends for years, and that’s all it was until the mutual pining hit its peak. there was something so beautiful about being in love with your best friend, with someone who understood how demanding your career was and already knew everything about you and who was still your best friend alongside being your boyfriend. around you, the rest of nct are giving your group mates half-hugs or shoulder nudges, but you don’t move to touch him, knowing you won’t let go if you initiate physical contact.

“y/n!” johnny rips you from your bubble. you have no idea how long you and mark were stood there, staring into each other’s eyes with that look on your faces, but it must’ve been long enough if someone’s intervened. the older idol pulls you into a short hug, but not before leaning down to murmur in your ear. “we know you guys are like, sickeningly in love, but would it kill you to not make it super obvious while there’s still cameras everywhere?”

oops.

“mark!” you whisper. or at least you hope you do, you’re pretty tipsy by this point in the evening. he just laughs, equally inebriated, and continues pulling you down the empty corridor, fingers intertwined. on a scale of zero to having your relationship exposed by dispatch come morning, sneaking off together a mere forty minutes after the industry execs had left the party is probably a solid deniable accusation. not exactly a great idea, but if anyone found out it wouldn’t be the end of the world, just carefully curated excuses in a statement and an earful from management. the first couple of doors he tries are locked, but third time seems to be the charm as you’re pulled into a room and plunged into darkness when the door clicks shut behind you.

“c’mere baby.” and you let go. all the pressure from being around so many people that could ruin your careers with one article, all the stolen glances across the room, all the secret smiles you share, all the patience that had been slowly wearing thin the longer you were in his proximity but not being able to do anything about it. it’s been been building all evening, and the dam finally breaks.

you practically throw yourself into his arms, winding your own around his neck as his wrap around your middle. he holds you to him so tight it hurts a little, but you’re probably slightly choking him with how strong your own grip is. the initial ‘holy shit you’re here and i can touch you without everyone looking’ moment passes and you both relax slightly. he still holds you close but it’s more grounding and comforting than anything. you bury your face into his neck and just let yourself breathe him in. his scent, the underlying notes of mark and home underneath the fancy cologne. the steady, comforting beat of his pulse against you. his arms are your safe place and being held by him makes everything better, even if just a little. you can’t count the number of times you’ve been exhausted or stressed or upset or scared or angry and all he’s had to do is pull you into him. you’ve cried on him, ranted into his chest and listened to him murmur words of encouragement and reassurance and love into your ear. there’s no other place you’d ever want to be. and even when you couldn’t physically be with him, he’s been there on facetime, or phone call, or over text. you’ve done the same for him without hesitation more times than you can imagine. he’s your person, your best friend, your soulmate, your everything, your one and only, your lifeline. you feel him press firm kisses into your hair and smile against his throat, snuggling into him happily.

“missed you.” you mumble. the alcohol in your system is amplifying the giddy feeling that’s thrumming through your entire being. all semblance of public image and self-control come crumbling down in front of him like always until all that’s left is the unguarded, most raw versions of yourselves laid bare for each other. he squeezes your hips and pulls back a little to look you in the eyes. you’ve adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his facial features and that same unfiltered, pure love is staring back at you from earlier but now he’s unabashedly grinning at you and his cheeks are flushed with happiness (and alcohol). his dimple is out in full force as he giggles right back at you. this is your mark, the one reserved for you and you only.

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he whispers. “wish we could stay in here forever, just us.”

“i know.” you bite your lip, and his eyes zero in on your mouth. “wait, where even are we?”

“i don’t care.” and just as quickly as the wholesome, lovesick feeling had flooded you, the arousal and want flares up, threatening to consume you the second he grabs your face and claims your lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. he walks you both backwards until you’re pressed up against the door, gripping the sides of his jacket both for stability and to satiate the overwhelming need to get your hands on him. you whine against his lips as one of his hands slips into your hair and pulls gently, letting your hands roam under his jacket all over his waist and up his chest until they’re holding his shoulders. you use the leverage to push yourself up onto your tiptoes to match his heated, open-mouth kisses with the same carnal energy. he groans, the sound making you shiver and adding to the warmth pooling in your abdomen. the hand that’s not in your hair drops down to slide around you and grab your hip, pulling you even closer so you’re flush against his body. the need for oxygen is beginning to grow, but you’re addicted to the floaty, lightheaded feeling that comes along with it. it soon becomes too much, though, the both of you breathing heavily as you break away for air, but he wastes no time in leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, each one hotter and more filthy than the last.

“mark.” you whimper, turning your head to the side to grant him more access to your throat. he nips at your pulse point softly, careful not to leave a visible mark, but it makes you gasp and arch into him further all the same.

“my pretty girl.” he pants against your skin. “all mine.”

“mm-hmm.” you agree. “yours.” and you are, fully and irrevocably his in every sense of the word. you thread your own hands into his hair and pull his face back up to kiss him again. you could spend forever kissing him and never be satisfied, never get bored. it doesn’t matter than you know him better than you know yourself, or that you’ve spent hours in this exact same position with him already. there seems to be this endless need inside you for mark lee that started when you met him. you were kids back then, but you always craved his presence, his attention. over the years it’s developed, but the need for him has never wavered, even after he became yours.

“been thinking about this all night, you look incredible.” he confesses between kisses, both hands dropping from around you to wander under your dress and start caressing your thighs. his touch is electrifying, leaving trails of fire in his wake as he slides his hands up to grab your ass and squeeze it. the subsequent jolt of excitement has you whimpering against him and his grip moves to the crease where your ass and thighs meet. he kneads the soft flesh there sensually before squeezing again, and that’s all the warning you get before he lifts you up and presses you back against the door in one fluid motion without even breaking the kiss. you’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing against his back. not that you think he’ll drop you, it’s never happened before, you just use the leverage to pull him in until you’re happily trapped between the cold, hard surface of the door and your boyfriend’s warm, inviting body. you both groan as his hips roll into yours. whether it was a result of you pulling him in or an intentional movement on his part is unknown, but the way he bites your lip and grinds his crotch into yours again is definitely not an accident. with you now supporting yourself, he’s free to bring one hand up to your chest, groping at your tits through your dress. his hips haven’t stopped moving, and you can feel the way he’s quickly hardening against your underwear. whilst the sensation is incredible, it snaps you out of the trance you’ve been in.

“babe.” you moan. “mark, baby, we can’t.”

“you mean we shouldn’t.” he smirks.

“no, i mean someone is going to notice we’re gone soon, if they haven’t already, and come looking for us.” you counter. he stops moving and looks up at you, the fog of arousal starting to clear from his expression. he sighs exasperatedly, knowing you’re right.

“fine.” he lowers you back to your feet. you know you both probably no longer resemble the perfect idol look your stylists and hair and makeup artists crafted before you decided to sneak off for a tipsy make out session in one of the back rooms, so you feel around for a light switch. your eyes squeeze shut as the room is flooded with light, blinking a couple times to readjust your vision. a giggle escapes you as you take in how adorably disheveled mark looks, hair tousled, collar rumpled and the pink hue of your lipstick smudged around his lips. although, you’re sure you look pretty similar.

you spend a couple minutes making yourselves look presentable again before you rejoin the party. “i should probably go first, give you a couple of extra minutes to calm down.” you tease, eyeing the tent in his pants.

“i bet if i checked, you’d still be soaking wet for me.” he retorts, eyes darkening slightly, sending a flush of heat straight to your core. he’s not lying. you take a deep breath to compose yourself before opening the door and stepping out into the corridor. you turn back to your boyfriend.

“behave.”

“the rest of this party’s gonna be torture, having to watch you go around looking like that.” he looks you up and down appreciatively again, though this time it’s a lot less innocent. you’re so glad that your schedules have calmed down enough to allow you more time together for the next month or so, the last couple months without being able to see him properly have been rough.

“well you can show me how much you like it when we get back to yours, later.”

“i plan to.”

“good. ‘cause i only bought this dress so you could take it off.” you smirk as the door shuts behind you.

“not helping, dude!” his voice is muffled as you begin walking back towards the party, giggling to yourself as you go. “i hate you!”

“no you don’t!”

[jarofstyles]

Teenage Dirtbag 5

Here we go again! I decided to bring back Fratrry in the rotation. For those of you who didn’t read them yet (or forgot) check out the series masterlist. These updates are shorter so I can get them out somewhat frequently instead of making you wait hehe.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Teenage Dirtbag Masterlist

WC- 1.5k

Warnings- asshole H, angst, Y/N putting him in his place as usual

----

Harry knew he should be a bit more cautious when it came to Y/N but… god, how could he not try and push the envelope if it meant her maybe giving into it again? 

The reality of it was that Y/N, a girl who hated his guys most likely, had been the best fuck he’d ever had. She had blown his mind in the literal and metaphorical sense, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Fate had a funny way of working, sure, but he couldn’t be too mad considering he knew their chemistry was too good to push away completely. 

H: what do ya want from the cafe, baby doll? 

Y/N: nothing that you’ve touched. 

Harry smirked at his phone. So predictable, already back with the snarky responses. It worked him up a bit, thinking about how this snarky girl had pleaded for more, kissed him sloppily as his balls smacked against her ass and dragged her nails down his scalp. Such a sweet thing for him that night had gone right to being sour as soon as she left. 

H: ok, so you want me to lick your cake pop. Got it. 

H: it isn’t like we haven’t shared saliva before ;) 

Y/N: yeah, lick on it and then choke . Let me know how that goes so I can cancel our session this afternoon. 

The hope was to bring the sessions here one day. As much as Y/N had disdain towards him, the sparks had flown during sex. She had loved it just as much as he did- he’ll, during their last round she had pushed him on the bed and rode his cock until he was sensitive, her nail marks left on his chest for days. 

H: I’ve got something else you can choke on, baby

Y/N: I will quite literally not show up today, your grades be damned. 

His lips puffed in a pout. He was pushing it, but it was so fun to rile her up. Eventually, he hoped she would give in and like him. See the fun parts of him like other people did- but for now, he would play this game. Cat and mouse… though he wasn’t quite sure which one he was. 

H: fineeee. I’ll be good. 

For now. 

Y/N: please do. It was a mistake and we don’t need to keep bringing it up. 

It was a mistake he very much wanted to repeat, over and over again. 

H: yes, maam. I’ll see you at 2 🫡

Y/N: don’t be late, I’m serious. I have something afterwards and I can’t be late 

H: oooo, a hot date? 

Y/N: yes, actually. So don’t fuck this up or you aren’t getting your full hour. 

His smirk quickly fell. 

She was going on a date? With fucking who? 

That wasn’t in his plans. For some reason, guiltily, he hadn’t anticipated the idea of someone else making a move on the girl he wanted to fuck. Let alone her accepting. She seemed like such an ice queen with him that it led him to forget just how sweet she was to literally everyone else.

It was slightly infuriating, how everyone had nothing but good things to say about her. She was nice and she helped out this person when they moved, she helped plan this persons birthday party, she spotted this person 5 when they went to get coffee… there was no denying everyone else got the sweet parts while all the sourness was reserved for him. 

And yet, he still pushed her. Still played this game and taunted her because how the fuck else was he supposed to get her attention? He was going to have to kick it up a notch.  

——

“Who’s the date with?” He asked in the middle of their session, ignoring the paper in front of him as he looked at her. She was way more dressed up than he’d seen her at a tutoring meet before, a little skirt that brushed her thighs and a little button up tucked into it giving it a sweet but sexy combination that made him a little twitchy. 

In all honesty it had been hard to focus since he seen her today. All he could think about was how those pretty lips had been bitten and swollen from his kisses, how they’d curled around his name so fucking sweetly that it had his cock stirring at the memory. Her perfume was seemingly freshly applied and it was interfering with his brain chemistry or something, because all he wanted to do was throw the books to the side and pull her up to straddle his lap. 

He imagined her hands knocking off his SnapBack, tangling in his hair as she rode his cock right in the secluded part of the library. His hands under her skirt and gripping her plush ass yet again, unbuttoning that little shirt and leaving more marks on her skin. 

Marks he caught a glimpse of as she suddenly looked up at him. 

“His name is Derek.” She cleared her throat. “He asked me out on Monday so I decided to say yes. He’s really nice.” For some reason she looked embarrassed by the information she had divulged, like she hadn’t meant to say all of that. 

That sneaky little minx. 

“Uh huh…” he let his eyes linger on the bruising that was fading but not quite covered by the collar of her shirt. “And what is Derek going to think of this pretty little thing?” 

It was gentle, his knuckle lightly brushing over the mark he remembered sucking during the first round. He knew he had caused some nice little lovebites but that one was still healing, so it was probably a dark one. Fuck, it probably looked hot as fuck when it was first developing. “Suits you, y’know. My marks on your skin. I could put some more there, If you want.” 

He was pushing it and he knew it, getting closer to her as his nose brushed her cheek. She wasn’t pushing him away, so he counted that as a good sign. “I could take you back to my place and I could give you quite a few more. A refresher course because… I highly doubt this guy is gonna be able to make you squirt all over his dick. Which you did with me, twice.” He hummed, letting his fingers fall a bit deeper down the collar of her shirt. “I don’t think he’s going to give you what you need, princess. We already did it once and so we’ll… it would just make sense to do it again. I think we have gotten well enough acquainted that I could do the job.”

He hadn’t seen the cold drink coming. Poured all over his lap and seeping through his shorts, he yelped as the icy liquid  hit his skin. “Oi! What the fuck?” 

“I told you, last time was a one and done for this particular reason, Styles.” She snarled, grabbing her books and hurrying to shove them into her bag. “Because you’d be a fucking pig and see me as a sex object instead of a human being. I’m not some fucking challenge, I’m a girl with feelings and I- I told you, I wasn’t doing it again and it meant it!” 

“Babe- no, I wasn’t suggesting that at all. I’d never say that shit.” He tried to fight, unsure how it had gone south so fast. Apparently, he was shit at reading her cues. Worse than he originally thought. 

“You don’t have to say it. You suggest it. You don’t respect what I say. This is why I was never going to go and do anything with you. Who gives a fuck how hot you are if you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t get his head out of his own ass to see exactly why people don’t like you.” Slinging her bag across her shoulder, she scowled at him. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll find you another tutor. I can deal with your stupid flirting, but throwing what we did in my face? Absolutely the fuck not.”

Harry didn’t have a chance to defend himself, feeling incredibly confused as she ran off. Any call of her name went ignored, the librarian hushing him as he made his way out of the doors but it was too late. She was god knows where. 

Who knew those legs could run so fast?

He was a little pissed that she was assuming he thought of her as some sort of object. He didn’t mean to make her feel any sort of way about it all, not thinking he was throwing it in her face, but apparently she thought so. 

H: Y/N can you please come back???

H: I didn’t mean to upset you 

H: I know I can be a dick and that’s part of our thing but I never thought of you as a sex object and I never would 

H: I didn’t think I was throwing it in your face 

H: can you answer me please????

H: I don’t want a new tutor, I want you :( 

H: y/n, cmon 

H: alright, I’ll try again tomorrow. But we need to talk. Please.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Reign down on me - Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt

A/N: This is a bit of a short update, but I wanted to get something out for the people that were asking for it! Enjoy 💕

-🐺-

You were embarrassed as soon as the realisation hit you, but by the time you’d had a decent rest and something to eat, you were feeling a lot more even footed. You were standing at the precipice of your new posting with anticipation, ready and waiting at the front door of Ghost’s house, eagerly listening out for him to come out of his room and take you to the new base. 

Ghost had knocked on your door earlier that morning just a little while after the sun had risen. He was still donning his skull balaclava and dressed similarly to the night before, though he had seemed to have changed sine. His eyes widened a fraction once he looked in and saw you, a flicker of surprise crossing what little you saw of his features when he saw you sitting awake on your freshly made bed. 

“Earlier riser. Not a nest builder then?” he’d noted.

You struggled to remember the last time you’d made a blanket nest, you could barely recall how to build one. That was one of the first things that’d been beaten straight out of you after being left at the barracks, leaving your ‘bed’ in any other state than bare with folded up sheets was an immediate punishment. 

“I’m not a child,” you muttered.

You were determined not to get emotional that day. Set against becoming the mushy tempered little pup you’d been the day before and instead behave like the soldier you were. That way, you figured, he might treat you the way he was supposed to as well. No more surprises, just business as usual.

However you were met with shock again when he’d led you away from bed and pointed at the table you’d sat at the night before. At what was apparently now your seat, there was a steaming  styrofoam box with bacon, eggs, toast and beans cooked to perfection and ready for you to eat. The scent was rolling through the air and rushing into your system, overwhelming you as you took an unsure stoop into your chair. 

“For me?” you asked, making sure to confirm before picking up the fork and knife laid out. 

“Yeah, Price ordered out for us. You’ve got a big day ahead, and he wants you on top form. And apparently I can’t be trusted to sort breakfast,” he said, scoffing at that last part. “Eat up and get ready. I’ll get you at the door in an hour.”

You breathed out a sigh, already not sure what to make of getting such a lavish breakfast, but there was nothing for it. If your new Captain had specifically requested you eat the feast in front of you, then you’d scarf down every last bit of it. Your stomach baulked at the idea of having so much in the morning when you were used to very little, but you ate it all while Ghost busied himself with the dishes from the night before behind you. Apparently he was intent on filling the air with a clattering clanging orchestra.

By the end of your meal, you’d figured that breakfast had to be one of the best you’d ever had, but with good food comes a heavy stomach and it turned you sluggish. It made for a struggle to find your motivation to go to the bathroom and get ready. However you bullied yourself into getting through it, your mental drill sergeant forcing you along until you ended up at the door fully dressed and in your usual black cargos and white T-shirt, tail swishing in anticipation for Ghost.

Your boots were still a bit damp from being in the rain all day before, but you were sure that with whatever Price had planned they’d be smelling like old cheese either way. It didn’t stop your nose wrinkling any less though. 

“Do you not have another pair of boots?” Ghost groused, looking you up and down while his heavy steps came thudding up to the door. 

He was all wrapped up in his big black jacket. He looked a lot warmer than you did standing there holding off the shakes, but you knew better than to complain. Plus your belly was full of meat and carbs so it helped your body fend off the morning chill. 

“We only get issued one set,” you said, looking down at your sodden feet, “I can try to clean them off a bit more, but I figured it would just waste time and make them wetter.”

“Well that’s changing today. You can’t walk around in wet shoes like that, we’re not in world war one,” he grunted. “What else do you need?”

You frowned at him, tilting your head at the question. Why would you need anything else?

“What else would I need?” you asked earnestly, hoping he wouldn’t get annoyed at the stupid question. 

“Your bag wasn’t very big and those clothes you were wearing last night were falling to bits. You’ve clearly been sewing them a lot, and not very well,” he laughed. “Tell me what you need and I’ll send for it.”

“I…” you tried to think of something, anything just to avoid looking like an idiot, but you couldn’t. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I have all the things I’m required to have.”

Your ears folded down, your body was bracing and ready for him to shout at you, instincts winning over your pride. It was bad enough you weren’t able to answer his question, but you’d pretty much disagreed with him as well just by saying you had what you needed. A rookie move, you thought as you admonished yourself.

“Can I see what you brought with you?” Ghost asked, his voice so quiet under the muffling of his mask material. 

You bit your lip and nodded, still waiting for the roaring thunder of shouts to begin and start beating against the walls. Instead he just moved his body to the side and motioned for you to go back to your room. You were forced to pass by him, shrugging your shoulders into your neck in anticipation of a grab. Every little creak across the wood felt like a prelude to some larger sound or maybe even a smack, but you were shocked to find that none of what you imagined came to pass. 

Once you’d reached your little chest of drawers, you were worked up to hell. There was blood rushing fast in your ears, a river running through your head and you were having to hold your breath just to keep your chest from convulsing. Ghost wouldn’t have noticed your breathing anyway though, while you panicked and waited for him to finally show his anger, he opened your drawers and revealed the barren interiors inside, closing each one with a heavy thunk and a dissatisfied tisk.

“Really, pup, is this all you have?” Ghost sighed, ending his search at the last drawer.

It contained two other pairs of black cargos and your sweats that you’d been wearing the night before. You looked down at it with glassy eyes and then back at Ghost, still waiting for your scolding. Waiting for him to rise up from his crouch and tower over you again. 

“Three pairs of trousers, five T-shirts, underwear for the week, and a set of bedclothes,” you listed, trying to keep a hold of yourself. “Plus a sewing kit. That’s what the rules say we need to have. Is there a different regulation here, sir?”

Ghost put his head in his hands for a moment and you pursed your lips, readying yourself for an explosion. Your toes curled and your claws dug into your palms, every fibre of your body was poised for an attack that you had to let happen. There was no way you were going to start the morning off badly with defying your handler on your first official day afterall. 

“You should have more than this,” Ghost finally said, his voice an even rumble as always. “You’ve served for a long time, you should have some personal things, darlin’.”

Your fear was now turning to frustration. Now you were at a loss, you didn’t understand what he wanted. Why was he wasting so much time on this clothes issue when you were supposed to go meet Price? The last thing you wanted was for Price to be mad at your late arrival because Ghost was getting caught up on your clothes.  

“Have you been wearing your work clothes on day trips?” Ghost asked.

“On…what?”

“When you go off base,” he prodded, now standing up to his full height again. “What do you wear in your downtime?”

“I’ve only ever been off base for missions and off-site training,” you murmured, looking down at your dirty boots. “It’s just hybrids with permanent handlers that get taken out at Branhaven and no one ever wanted to have me until you and Price. Everything I have is in those drawers…apart from some bathroom stuff I put away in the sink cupboard, I made sure I kept it all out of the way of your things though.”

Ghost looked dumbstruck. It was a funny thing, even though you couldn’t see his face you could still tell so much about his expression through his eyes and body. And in that moment his eyes looked lost and his fists were clenched at his sides. You couldn’t figure out why that sentence was what he seemed the most angry at since that whole segue had started, but you couldn’t deny that there was something like a glint of murder in his face.

“Can we just go now, sir?” you asked, looking past his shoulder and hoping you could entice him to drop the whole stupid subject. “Won’t Captain Price be mad if I’m late?”

Ghost untensed his muscles and dropped his hands. 

“He won’t be mad, it’ll be fine,” he assured, putting a hand on your shoulder and making you jump. “Woah, easy darlin’. It’s ok. Don’t worry about all this, alright? I’ll talk to you about all this later, but for now you’re right, we should get heading. C’mon.”

You huffed out a sigh of relief when he turned and clutched at your chest for a second, thanking whatever spirit was around that you gave him an effective distraction. Though you dreaded to think the subject was going to be revisited. You were still going to be equally as clueless as to why he was so upset that you didn’t have more…stuff. 

You had no idea what that stuff was supposed to be or what you’d need it for when you had perfectly sufficient things that you could always repair whenever that was required. Anything else was just stupid, you were just a hybrid. What would you do with personal items or civilian clothes? It’s not like you were bursting with photos to frame or had any events to look nice for.

It was all so stupid! You put it out your mind and compartmentalised, following silently at Ghost's big back as he took wide strides across the smooth paving and over to his car. You never were good with remembering makes or what logos were what, but what you did know was that It was huge and black and practically gleaming it was so clean. It was clearly something that he took pride in. 

It made you purse your lips once inside, entirely mindful of how spotless his matching black leather interior was. It didn’t seem very conducive with wolf fur so you opted to grab your tail and hold it round your front once you were seated, hoping you could stop yourself from shedding all over the place and creating another uncomfortable conversation. Even though the angle hurt and needled at your old injury, you muscled through with gritted teeth, summoning all your strength for whatever lay ahead. 

Besides, you thought as the engine roared to life, the pain almost made up for the lack of punishment before. It put your head back into order. 

…

“Well well, look who finally decided to show up.”

You’d already gotten out of Ghost’s car with your heart in your throat after seeing you were ten minutes later than he’d said you needed to be. Now standing at the foot of the office, Price’s words had you wincing. You panicked and looked from the Captain sitting at his shaky old desk and then back up at Ghost in the doorway, internally cursing him for taking up your precious time with all of his nonsense about clothes.

“Somethin’ came up,” Ghost shrugged, settling one of his hands across your back and on your shoulder. “Fair warning - this one’ll have a heart attack if you pretend to get mad, so consider your next words carefully.”

Price raised his brows and looked straight at you then, smiling with that signature crinkly eyed grin of his. You remembered his face well, you’d always been thrown by how kind it looked when you’d gone away with him. You weren’t used to Captain’s like him, not accustomed to anyone giving you smiles and encouraging praise. 

At the start of the mission he’d made sure to emphasise he’d be looking out for you through his scope and had Gaz ready with a rifle if anyone had tried to intercept your tracking. Then after you’d returned home he’d made a point of taking you for a burger before he took you back to your base, even letting you sit in his warm truck and enjoy it properly. 

“Well we don’t want that, do we? C’mon, love, take a seat and we’ll go over some things before you go see the other two,” Price said, pointing to one of the chairs in front of him. 

You complied immediately, forgetting about your rush of memories, racing to sit down to a point you were almost sprinting to the chair. Price kept the smile on his face while Ghost sat beside you, both men sharing a look while you anxiously waited to hear what Price was going to say. You couldn’t help but fidget with your tail, digging your fingers deep into the wiry top layer of fur and into the soft tufts underneath. 

“Ghost filled me in on what happened yesterday,” Price said, brows lifting as he tilted his head down at you. “And we want you to know that’s not how we wanted to manage the transfer. So first off, I just want to make sure you’re doing ok. How do you feel about the new arrangement?”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t that. As much as you liked the Captian, you still didn’t expect him to mirror Ghost’s strange behaviour and ask about your feelings. He hadn’t said much to you before when you’d gone away with him, there weren’t any good markers to see if this was normal behaviour.

It all made you wonder if you’d been taken away to some kind of opposite land where hybrids seemed to mean something. Then again, you thought bitterly, perhaps this was all a test, just to see how you’d respond.

“Fine, sir,” you answered, fingers threading tighter through your tail. 

Ghost and Price shared another look. Price’s mouth quirked as if he had gathered something from the stare that Ghost gave him.  

“Ok…well that’s good. Do you have any questions for us? 

“No, sir. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, I’m ready,” you said, giving a little nod for emphasis. 

Price chuckled, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. You were sure you’d said something wrong, but if pressed to answer what that was…you wouldn’t know what to say. 

“I’m glad that you’re keen to get started, that’s a good sign. I’m not looking for you to dive right into working though, I want you to have questions and ask us things, so go ahead. You must have something you want to know.”

You sighed and looked down at your tail again, stomach feeling all the heavier after that breakfast. There were a lot of questions floating around your head, but every little piece of you was crying out to just shut up. 

Hybrids don’t ask questions, they follow orders. 

You had been told to ask your questions though. It would surely make him angrier to be denied, you reasoned to yourself. 

“Why me, sir?” You asked, looking up from your lap. 

“Why’d we want you on the team? I liked working with ya, you were quiet, efficient, had a keen focus as well. Simple as that really. We needed a hybrid and I thought you’d be a good fit with us.”

“A good fit, sir? Why?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“Everyone on the taskforce is someone that I can count on. I’ve worked with each one of ‘em at various times in my career and I know that they’ll deliver every time I ask them to go out on the field. You did well on that mission you joined us on, and 

 when looked over your record after, I was impressed with your results to say the least. Makes you a great candidate for the 141.” 

“I’ve never had anyone mention anything good about my record before you both,” you muttered. “Are you sure they didn’t mix up the file handover, Captain?” 

Price shook his head and reached his hand across the table, warm skin enclosing over yours as he held his palm over the back of your hand. You felt your ears perk up in surprise. He was…touching you? And not for corrective reasons either! 

“I can assure you it was the right one, love. There wasn’t anything I saw on there that made me think you couldn’t do this job,” he said, giving your hand a quick pat before withdrawing again. “It ain’t all about staying out of trouble.”

You looked up at him and said nothing then, completely silenced by his thoughtful gesture. You’d gotten in plenty of trouble, that was for sure, but you only ever acted like a little shit with the assholes back on your base. Things were different now. You didn’t know how to orient yourself, didn’t know how to behave in your new circumstances.

Instinct said to ignore all the fluffy behaviour and just get through the day doing what you were told, but there was a tiny part of you that really wanted to believe that maybe the men in that room had your best interests at heart - maybe, just maybe this was the break you’d always secretly hoped for. Not that you gave that part of yourself much credence, its voice was too similar to that of the young pup that said that maybe your family would come back for you one day. Maybe they’d realise they made a mistake dropping you off and they’d let you come home again. Stupid stupid little wolf that you were to ever even have a notion like that. 

“Well, I’ll do my best regardless, Sir,” you smiled, hoping he’d move on and get the day going. 

“Good to hear. Do you have anything else you’d like to know before we get stuck in?” 

“No, sir,” you said a little too eagerly. 

He laughed at that. His chuckling low, deep and earthy as the cigar scent that permeated around him. There was something so naturally easy about Price, something that had you relaxing even while you wondered if you were going to get in trouble for not being interested enough to ask more. 

“Well, first things first, welcome to the 141. As you’re the first hybrid member, I expect there will be a learning curve for us all, so we’re going to be training hard over the next few weeks while we get used to each other. Ghost is the only one of us fully trained in hybrid handling, so all of us will be taking his lead while we learn to work properly together out on the field. You’ll be with Ghost for your first few missions, but after that initial few weeks pass you can be sent out with any of the team at any time. You’re not just getting sent on assignment anymore and you’re not dealing with the likes of your old base, you’re dealing with very intense work,” Price said, taking a sharp intake of breath as his tone changed. “You’re going to be out with us in all manner of terrains and situations, and oftentimes under heavy fire. We can be sent anywhere at anytime, and when a target is discovered we need to act quick. We deal with very prolific HVT’s and even in high stress, they need to be brought in safely for interrogation. All this is to say, you’re not expected to act like a mutt anymore, I don’t need that on my team. I want you to be sharp and take initiative, I will need you to communicate with us and to share your thoughts rather than blindly follow orders even when you know they’ll lead to trouble. Your perspective is valuable, you can hear better and sniff out danger that we can’t, so if you flag something then tell us. Do you think you can do that?” 

You raised your brows, head heating in malfunction, not at all ready for the big speech your new captain had imparted on you. Learning to act like a ‘mutt’ was the only thing that had ever been drilled into you. It was the reason you’d been met with so much trouble at the beginning of your career, the main reason your original handlers had encouraged the others to beat you that little bit harder and to make your life more miserable than the rest. You’d been shoved into submission all your life and told to shut the fuck up and do as you were told, you’d never ever been told your perspective was valuable.

You weren’t even given a mic to communicate with out on the field when you started, you were just supposed to follow orders as they came to you. You’d learned ever since then not to speak unless asked.

“Not to question you, but…just to clarify. You’re telling me you want me to go against orders, sir?”

“Well for example… I tell you to walk into a building and you can smell that it’s riddled with explosives, then yes. I expect you to raise the alarm when the situation calls for it. I don’t need a hybrid that’s going to go out and get themselves killed just to please me, I need someone that can get the job done and help get everyone back safe. Lives and mission success are more important than ego to me everytime, you will never be punished for acting in the interest of the team, which now includes you. Understand?”

“So just to get this clear, you’re giving me blanket permission to talk on comms - to give my opinion to you whenever I have one?” you asked incredulously. 

“Precisely. This should help with that,” he smiled, pulling something from out of the groaning top drawer of his desk and sliding it across to you. 

You reached out and accepted it, holding the strip of dark leather between your fingers and admiring how smooth and thick it felt, how high quality it was. Not missing the numbers 141, that were stamped into its side. It was a new collar. Outfitted with a built in mic and specialised remote lock, one that could be unlocked if it became snagged or got you into trouble in a fight. You were pretty sure it had a longer tracking range than standard collars too, and even came with a shiny D ring for tags. This was the kind of thing that hybrids wore when they were prized by their teams, owned by the sort of people that actually cared if you came back to them. 

“Is this really for me?” you asked sceptically, taking a hand off of the new collar and touching the one already round your neck, sliding a finger over the bruised skin at its rough sides. 

“Course it is. We can have it changed or altered if you’re not happy with it,” Price noted, watching your reaction carefully. 

“It’s perfect as is, best bit of kit I’ve ever gotten” you said quickly, running your fingers all the way down the bumpy stitching. “Thank you, sir.”

“Shall we get this thing off then?” Ghost said, speaking up from his place next to you. 

You looked over at him and followed his eyeline realising what he meant, touching your old collar once again. You didn’t need convincing. You nodded and tipped your head forward, letting him access the buckle at the back before unclipping and letting it loose, leaving you unmarked to the world for a minute, just another hybrid without a claim.

It was weird being bared like that, honestly you felt like he’d taken off your shirt or your trousers. You always wore your collar, and now that it was off you felt little better than a worm on a bait hook, wriggling uncomfortably at the sensation of air on your bare flesh. 

Order was restored when Ghost took your new collar and wrapped it around you, clicking it into place with a cheerful clink from the new locking mechanism. You sighed and let out the tension in your muscles, closing your eyes a second before straightening up and looking at Price and Ghost, checking over their satisfied faces. 

“Good to have you officially on the team, pup,” Ghost said with what was surely a grin. “Just need to put your tags on.” 

He took your ID tag from your old collar and slotted it on to the D ring at the front of your neck, then produced a handler tag from his pocket, letting you see it while he fiddled with the tag already round your neck. You took it in your hands and thumbed over the bumpy metal letters and rubber edges, tilting your head as you looked it over. 

LT Ghost

#09-2022

141

You’d always had the base information on your team tag, or had to wear a temporary one when you were sent on long deployments assigned to work with other teams. Even then you’d always get a building ID or some other number that would link you back with some office somewhere. You'd never worn someone else's name around your neck before, but now you were going to be linked to Ghost for the rest of your days. If anyone found you and reported your handler’s number to the relevant authorities they’d get a direct line to him. 

For a man that hadn’t even revealed his face to you, he was incredibly willing to hang such a big responsibility around your neck. You bit your lip and watched as he took the tag from you, fixing it in place behind your ID tag. His heavy breaths were escaping from behind his balaclava for a moment, he was in deep concentration trying to manouver the little tag with his huge hands. You grinned when you heard him swear at it.

“There, you’re stuck with me now,” he said matter of factly, giving the tags a playful tug when he was done. “How’s the collar feel? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, sir,” you shrugged, still marvelling that he was willing to take you on. “Feels a lot better than the old one.”

“That’s cause this,” he grunted, throwing your old collar into Price’s wastebin. “Was a piece of shit.”

You snorted out a laugh and watched as it disappeared into a mass of paper, going deep down to its crinkly death. You couldn’t disagree. It had been rough and frayed either age for far too long and they’d used it to grab you and haul you around like a hay bale for even longer. This new collar, was much smoother an….

d far more pleasant on your neck.

“It suits you,” Price smiled. “I know you’ll be a great addition to the team…that said, are you ready to go meet Gaz and Soap?”

[under-cotton-and-calicos]

Take Me Back To Eden

Multiple Ghosts x AFAB Reader

AN: It’s been a long while. I’ve been busy [insert unhinged ao3 author life update here]. This has been sitting in my drafts for the LONGEST time jeez. Wasn’t really satisfied with any of the directions it took so I finally sat down and committed to something. May or may not have a sequel. I recommend listening to “Descending” by Sleep Token while you read this. As the title implies, I’m kinda obsessed with the band right now. Enjoy!

tags: cult sex, orgy, heavy dubcon, ghosts, ancient deity, mind manipulation, oral sex, vaginal penetration, rough sex, WEIRD CUM

Word count: 3.9k

With a pathetic sputter, the incessant humming of your old corolla’s engine gives way to silence. For a few moments, you sit in the dark and quiet, a mixture of excitement and anxiety raising goosebumps on your skin. You’ve done this hundreds of times, you’re sure that today you’re going to get your big hit. It has to be.

You slam your car door shut and take a deep breath, a gym bag filled with equipment and cameras slung over one shoulder, your free hand guiding the beam of your heavy duty torch across the entrance of the abandoned bar. The old, faded sign perched above its entrance is unreadable, faintly you can make out traces of looping letters. Its battered and dusty exterior belies the rumours you’ve heard about the place.

You were supposed to come with your posse, but every single one of them had work or family issues that cropped up at the last minute. Not one to be deterred by fear, you ended up making the drive down alone. In spite of the cool night, your skin is warm with anticipation as you cross the threshold and slip into the bar.

Not much is known about its origins or history- it’s a small, rundown lot in a slow and quiet part of town, so no one has ever paid it much attention. It had been a hole-in-the-wall style pub that attracted a small and dedicated group of patrons before mysteriously closing abruptly. Hours of digging through the net gave you enough reason to suspect that there was an abnormal cause behind why it still hadn’t been bought out for decades, though. The reports of ghostly apparitions in the crevices of obscure forums led you down a rabbit hole. Soon enough, you managed to find a video posted online, taken by some teenagers roped in by a bet. You studied it for hours, pausing at every frame.

You can still remember the sweet thrill, the goosebumps that formed on your skin when you noticed the wispy, grey figures hidden behind corners in several frames. Jackpot. 

Your friends had told you that they were edited but your gut told you otherwise. There was a genuine fear in those kids’ eyes, you bet on it.

As you manoeuvre through old tables and chairs, you notice that the furniture is still well kept, barring the fact that everything is covered in layers of dust.The retro style bar, stools and shelves are all in good condition, though lacking bottles of booze and the typical drink making paraphernalia. Maybe someone still cares for the place? 

You notice a few doors that hadn’t been explored in the video, so you try each handle, one of them leading to an empty storage room, another leading to a kitchen behind the bar, the next to a decrepit restroom. Curiously, there’s a long stairway behind a stuffy curtain going down to what you presume is a basement door. There’s an inlaid symbol on the door, made from burnished golden metal, its fine quality at odds with everything else in the bar. You’ve never seen anything like it before- the silhouette of a tree firmly rooted to the earth, its branches and roots reminiscent of…horns?

There’s something compelling about it. Your stomach dips at the thought of you opening the door, but you want to. There’s something on the other side of it.

When you yank on the handle, it doesn’t budge, breaking you out of your momentary stupor. You shake your head and blink. 

Caught up in the moment?

“Damn.” You sigh. Typically, you would leave lockpicking to another one of your friends. There isn’t much you can do about it, so you decide to set up a few thermal cameras overlooking the tables and bar, as well as an REM pod for proximity detection on the countertop.

Kneeling behind the countertop, you turn on your spirit box, its harsh white noise filling the quiet. Through the static, you call into the night.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

There’s no response, but you introduce yourself and continue. You’re well accustomed to this pattern already, after years of this. The hauling of equipment, meticulously setting everything up, dicking around for a few hours and then packing up and heading home. Keep the time spent idle low, and expectations even lower. Perhaps it’s because you’re alone tonight. There’s a charge in the atmosphere, a certain secrecy and wonder to the ritual.

“I'd really like it if you told me your name.”

“Like.” The artificial, crackly word emerges from the static.

“Yes, I’d like it if you introduced yourself too.” You wait a few more moments before the next word. For a while, monosyllabic words are all you receive. So you dig and prompt until you tag onto something.

“More.”

“More?”

“M…More tha-an.” 

“There’s more than one of you?” You say, peering around the empty bar. There’s no sign of the specters from the video, only swirling mites of dust suspended in the air under the glow of your torchlight. “Where are you?”

“H-Here.”

Suddenly, your REM pod flashes green, red, blue against the shadows, signalling that something is close by, very close by. But instead of its typical bleeping, a warbled wail echoes through the empty bar, causing you to flinch from how loud it is. The fuck?

You turn around and direct your torch towards the pod. Your heart falters.

A crowd of grey specters are standing behind the counter, their forms towering over where you’re kneeled on the ground. Their bodies are featureless, rippling as though they could blink out of existence at any moment, at odds with the physical realm. For a second, you can’t bring yourself to do anything. You feel dread, you're stunned, but underneath it all, the irrational, ghost hunting geek in you is baffled. Holy shit, holy shit.

You jump to your feet, backed against the shelves. Their heads tilt upwards, following your movement. And then you’re fleeing, terror driving you to run from the very situation that you’ve been chasing down for years.

The moment you’re behind the steering wheel, you step on the gas, your corolla protesting as it's jolted out of its sleep and forced to shoot down the empty street. You don’t stop to turn and look.

“Wait.” A real voice overlaps with the one coming from your spirit box still clutched in your sweaty palm, but you don’t stop, turning the corner around the countertop and passing through an ethereal, translucent arm reaching out to stop you. You burst out of the bar into the cooler night air and shakily jam your key into your car, cursing as you struggle to get the door open.

Holy shit, you chant over and over again, they’re real, they’re real!

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

Your alarm wakes you from a restless slumber, one of many in the past few months. With a groan, you fumble for your phone with your eyes still closed and turn it off. 

“Fuck…” You curse at the soreness in your back and slick between your legs. It happened again last night.

Tugging your underwear down, you stare at the sticky mess you’d created in your sleep. Glimpses of your dream, or nightmare, flash through your head, sending a quiver down your spine. Your breath hitches at the thought, you palm your stiff nipples through your ratty old shirt and begin fingering your cunt, warm and dripping wet. 

You’ve been tormented by a string of dreams lately, each one leaving you aching in the morning. So much so that you have had to incorporate masturbation into your morning routine. It’s never satisfying though, your fingers and toys don’t come even close to what you experience in the nasty recesses of the dreamscape hidden in your mind. All of them are vivid and realistic, but when you wake, you can only recall little snatches- greedy hands taking their fill of your body and being bent over, being filled…being defiled.

And with your equipment left at the bar, what can you do? There is no evidence of your findings. You can’t tell your friends that you’ve been having wet dreams almost incessantly since that night alone in the bar. You would seem like a lunatic.

But it wouldn’t be wrong to call this a kind of madness. Frantic and possessive. Bodies cast in vibrant colour, shadowed and swaying against you. Cast in the black behind your eyelids is a gold insignia, beckoning you closer and closer.

With a whimper, you cum, body folding over and shaking as you ride out your climax. Temporarily satiated, you slump back into your pillows dramatically, staring at your ceiling. Something from that bar had followed you home. And you want to go back.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

The empty district is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. It’s a cold night, and you tug your sweater around your shoulders as you lean back in your car seat. It’s undeniable that you’re a little scared- you feel like one of those idiot teenagers in horror movies that get themselves killed for wandering recklessly into danger. Again, something tells you that it’s different. Or maybe you’re just horny.

With your torch in one hand and your phone in the other, you enter the bar. All of your equipment is just as you left it. You trace your finger over the REM pod on the countertop, dusty but intact. It’s…quiet.

What did you expect? To get jumped the moment you came in? There’s no sign of the specters as well. You’re a bit disappointed, because it means that those dreams you’ve been having might not have been supernatural at all, and worse, the specters might have been a figment of your imagination.

Just as you resolve to pack up your things and leave, a sliver of light catches your eye, cast against the dark floor. Purple light streams between the curtains that lead to the locked basement. Your heart begins to pick up pace again, and you rush over, brushing aside the thick, heavy fabric to see the stairway down illuminated. The door is open!

“H-Hello?” You call out, flicking your torchlight off and leaning it against a step. With hesitant steps, you descend, eyes adjusting to the dim artificial light. You know this atmosphere, this tension in the air from the distinctive purple haze of your dreams. Almost instinctively, your core warms and you can feel yourself shiver, a conditioned response.

 When you reach the base of the stairs, your breath stalls in your throat and you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips. The same apparitions that have been haunting your dreams are there, facing you, as if waiting for your inevitable return. Your nervous eyes scan the rest of the room, it looks like you’ve stepped into another realm entirely- gone are the cheap and neon plastics of the bar, there’s a pool of fabrics and pillows, and an altar, carved from stone with tall pillars of candles by its sides.

Dazed, you don’t realise that you’ve been walking until you’re a few feet in front of the specters, their heads following you uncannily. 

“I-I…” You sputter, jittery under their heavy, obscured gaze. They haven’t even done anything to you yet, but your head is all cotton and gauze. Slowly, you sink to your knees.

“My dreams. I’ve seen you there.” You say, awe-struck. A delicate voice replies, soft as a gossamer sheet.

“I am glad that you’ve returned.” It confuses you. You’re not sure if the voice is coming from one of the specters before you or if it’s echoing through your head, like you’re on a phone call with someone in the same room as you. Up close, their forms are ethereal, shimmering and tinted purple from the lights, shifting ever-so-slightly.

You can still make out the shape of a mouth and a nose on their faces, as well as outlines of their limbs and hands. One reaches out to you, fitting the curve of your cheek in the palm of their hand- your eyes widen at the touch, it feels real, cold but solid against you.

“Good one…pretty one…” They close around you, clamouring to touch you. A hand combs through your hair, traces the curve of your ear, another slides past the collar of your shirt to the dip between your shoulder blades, and one presses its fingers against your lips.

Strange, you think, opening your mouth obediently for the cold fingers to savour the wet warmth of your tongue. Every cell in your body is alight, bristling with energy and ready to burst at the seams. This is what you’ve been wanting for so, so long. 

How could I have been terrified of them before this?

“More, more.” Not enough of you is exposed it seems. You shed your sweater, your hard nipples visible through thin fabric. The atmosphere bristles a bit, you think, as you finally discard your shirt, your breasts and inviting skin on display for them to grab at, their touch growing more hungry.

They whisper, trailing lower and lower. You close your eyes for just a moment, the jostling bodies around you giving way to darkness as you relish in the feeling of hands that grope your chest, firm nipples being pinched and tugged at, your bare body slowly becoming accustomed to their supernatural chill. Something bumps against your lips and you smile, opening your eyes once again to bat your eyelashes up at the specter that has its stiff cock in hand, unabashedly asking for entry.

You open wide, sticking your tongue out for the specter to slide its head against you. You think you hear a whimper, and you’re pleased to feel it twitching as you close your mouth around it, humming as you bob your head and take more of its length down your throat. It’s solid, hard like a human’s, and you can feel the bump of veins trailing down its shaft. Behind you, one kneels down and presses its torso up against your back, a hand cupping your soaking sex and another kneading your breast. 

“Here…!” Two more specters hovering over you tug at your arms impatiently, wrapping your hands around their own dicks. Obliging their requests, you stroke them lazily, eyes flitting between all of the spirits that surround you. The ones that are not latched to your body stand a short distance away, fisting themselves, undoubtedly staring at you get busy. Underneath their innumerable gaze, you’re exhilarated, and a thought flits through your mind- they’ll all have a chance to run you through later, and you’ll be able to experience it all in reality. 

The specter shoves two fingers into your needy hole, grinding them against your sweet spot. You falter, but the specter that’s in your mouth clamps its hands around your head, sinking so deep that your face is flush with their crotch. The two rut into your tightened grip, gasping and groaning fills your head.

“So good…so good…Ah!” 

When a finger flicks at your clit, you cum hard, body arching and thighs quaking. You’re stunned momentarily, and you swallow back the spit pooling in your throat, squeezing around the specter. Suddenly, its grip in your hair grows stronger, bordering on pain as it cums too, cold, thick liquid shooting into the back of your throat and covering your tongue. It tastes like nothing, you note, gasping for air when it detaches from you and releases its grip on your head.

What catches you off guard is the colour of its seed, a thick white substance that drips down your chin onto the floor between your legs, giving off an otherworldly glow. Immediately, another takes its place- the one on the right that had you fisting its cock guides it into your mouth and plugs you up again. This one is less patient, it holds you in place and fucks into your mouth. They use you like a sex toy, taking turns occupying your hands and mouth, grabbing at your chest and fingering your cunt. Any hesitation or endearing nervousness that occupied the specters has disappeared, and you’re elated. You lose count of how many have cum on you, they spill on your face, your chest, covering you in their ungodly semen. It becomes a dizzying cycle, and between your climaxes and theirs’, you lavish them with all that you can give, just as you did in your dreams. What you can take down your throat, you do gladly, an appreciative hum is your reward when you obediently swallow and accept the spurts of cum onto your body.

Suddenly, after a specter smears its cum across your tits, you’re pulled to your feet. Shaky and tired legs unable to support your body, you’re carried over to the altar that you saw earlier and laid upon it. It’s the perfect height, and you groan as a specter grinds its cock against your wet folds. Your legs are spread wide apart, and the empty spaces around you are quickly taken by eager spirits. They pause though, and seem to wait for something patiently. A name is called, something unintelligible, not in the human tongue, not anything you’ve heard before.

They say something in an alien tongue, and look upwards to the ceiling. There is something you didn’t notice before, the same sigil as the one on the door is painted there. In a split second, a collage of memories are made clear in your mind’s eye- you see offerings of wine and food, people kneeling before hulking statues and trees, orgies in secluded areas where hedonism flourishes, lush with the scent of sex and flowers.

The specter between your legs breaks you out of your reverie, and you’re suddenly in the basement once again, fully aware of your dripping cunt, the need. There’s an energy in the room that wasn’t there previously, charged and crackling. You groan when it fits its bulbous head against your entrance, hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as it enters you. And finally, finally you are one with them. You stare entranced at where you are joined, its thick, translucent cock stretching your starved cunt.

“Fuck me, please.” You rasp, throwing your head back when it begins to thrust into you, setting a brutal pace. Again, the specters crowd around you and put you to work. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the wave of pleasure, the friction of the heavy cock in your pussy, the numerous hands that guide you and delight in the touch of your skin.

“You…you…” The voice bristles in your head, and there it is again- snatches of that scene and the voice, it’s getting stronger. You can barely focus, between the ghostly bodies all around you and the thread of a connection to It. They’re both equally addictive- the delicious stretch and fill, the wandering hands all over your overstimulated body, and the irresistible draw to something powerful and primordial. Closer, closer, closer.

The specter fucking into you quivers, its pace quickening and its thrusts growing shallower. It’s about to cum inside you, and you wrap your legs around its translucent torso to force it even deeper inside. In response, its hands grab your hips with so much force that you’re sure they’re going to bruise.

“Perfect.” The word is whispered into the shell of your ear, low but with the power of a command. Instantly, you feel like euphoria has flooded your body, too much of it. Every sensation is painfully amplified, the bliss of each thrust between your legs rapturous and overwhelming. You cum, and the specter does too, you can feel its cold seed like ice in your hot, hot cunt, flooding you, seeping into your being. Every cell in your body is screeching from pleasure so high that it hurts. 

“Oh. Too much?” 

There’s tears streaming down your cheeks. Your thoughts are melting together and no words form on your tongue, all you can manage is a pathetic nod as your body seizes in agony and orgasmic bliss.

“Apologies, it’s been a while.” It says, and just as quick as it compelled you, the euphoria is sapped from your body. The relief is another form of pleasure, and as you relax, you feel a gush of liquid seep past where you’re joined to the specter- you’re squirting, a puddle of it forming on the altar and dripping onto the floor. 

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” It whispers again, cool and calm as you gasp for breath. “I like it.”

“What…what-” You’re cut off by the specter dragging its cock out of you, leaving you gaping for the next one in line. You let out a high-pitched whine as the mix of semen and your slick spills out of you. As though to comfort you, one specter cradles your cheek and promptly nudges its dick past your lips. They seem to be oblivious to the conversation going on, or they carry on in spite of it.

“Don’t think. Just let go.” Another cock is thrust into you, barely giving you any reprieve as it pounds into you, intent on getting you filled again.

What are you?

“A vague question gets you a vague answer.” It tuts, “I am the bliss that found its way into your dreams, the cruelty that left you wanting more, and the hunger that brought you back here to me.”

Hands reach out to pinch and twist your nipples and clit, forcing you to let out a muffled yelp.

“It hardly seems fair for you to pay little attention to those who have been fucking you so vigorously. Well, given that you can’t form a coherent thought, the ones that have you speared on their cocks are my most devoted followers. They have been so gracious as to offer their spirits for my perusal.”

And now you understand- it’s a god, an ancient deity on the ceiling looking down upon you, casting its impartial and frigid gaze on this debauchery, orchestrated for its sake.

“And you, my little pleasure, are the first taste of life I’ve had down here in a long time.” Its tone has a vicious bite, excitement palpable. At that, the specters, or puppets in you cum, the elation of their master influencing their own pleasure, no doubt. You choke around the cock forced down your throat, cutting off your breathing until it pulls free from you and you choke down air and seed.

You’re so replete, so tired, you’re not sure whether you can take anymore-

“You will.” 

Warily, you sweep your gaze across the hoard of hungry spirits hunched over you.

“After all, isn’t this what you wanted?”

Throughout the night, you’re used over and over, your poor cunt fucked and filled more times than you can count. Just as you think it may end, another specter is between your legs, alternating between lapping up the mess between your legs and pumping its seed into you again. All while some ancient and cruel god speaks to you. With each climax, you feel your consciousness slipping further away, the teasing and praise of the voice in your ear growing ever more distant…

When you wake, you’re exhausted. The specters had disappeared, leaving you on the altar. Despite the throbbing in your core and muscles, you manage to pull your clothes back on and make your way up the stairs, the unpleasant stickiness of your skin urging you to get home as soon as possible so you can take a shower.

A draft sends a chill down your spine, a whisper like a caress brushes past you.

I’ll see you soon, little pleasure.

You’re relieved to see your corolla on the streetside, and as you limp to your car you make a mental note to pack up your equipment the next time you’re here.

[lovesick-feelings]

UPDATE: This is just a repost for the tags. The original reblog will be kept up! Original AU made by @soleilxe please go check out their blog they are a genius (๑♡ ⌓♡๑)

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I had to get this one out in case the DLC mysteriously dropped out of nowhere! (ʘᗩʘ’)

I absolutely love this AU so much! I am telling you rn that when I first read this I couldn't stop thinking about it and i was so sad that it was never expanded! So I ended up drawing a small comic (this is like my first time doing something like this so sorry if its messy! ) and that was supposed to be it but I ended up writing a short fic as well (⌒_⌒;) Btw this is just my spin on things so sorry if I made any errors!

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"Irreparable," the company claimed. It made no sense to Sun and Moon. From what they know the incident occurred the night an unexpected visitor came by. On the morning management came in, they were met with their main star missing, busted animatronics, and a disheveled mall. To think that the boy they met that fateful night caused all this was… strange, to say the least. At least they were perfectly fine! Yeah, they had a bit of trouble avoiding the flames resulting in slight damage but they were working! With a few repairs and replacements, everything would be right as rain! However, that didn't stop Fazbear Mall from permanently shutting its doors. 

Even after conversations they overheard between co-workers, workers leaving as soon as they arrived with salvaged valuables, and the final click of the lock shutting the doors permanently, Sun was in denial. 

"They'll come back for us! We'll just have to wait till then!" Although Moon was still troubled by the events that night, he still held onto hope.

"Yes, yes you're right. In the meantime, we should clean up~" 

"That's the spirit!" Sun cheered.

The first few months played out like this: waiting and cleaning up whatever they could in anticipation that the company or someone would return. However, those beliefs slowly slipped away with each passing month. Sun tried so hard to keep them distracted from their situation but it’s difficult when you wake up in the same hell every day. Nowadays when he tries to comfort Moon every word comes out unsteady. If only he could make them more believable.

Moon couldn't handle it. It was all his fault. If he'd just fought back none of this would have happened. But how could you fight against something you didn’t know was coming? The night he became corrupted haunted him endlessly. It didn’t help that they also became more beat-up after several failed escapes he made. Though he was grateful for his brother's support, it felt more like lies and empty promises as time passed. Failure after failure, shame, and guilt built up. It was always at his lowest when he felt the same corrupt urges he had that fateful night back.  

"SHUT IT! JUST SHUT IT! IT'S THE SAME THING EVERY SINGLE DAY! NO ONE IS COMING FOR US!!" 

"...sorry" Sun whimpered. 

It was always too late by the time he snapped back to his senses. It was like he was stuck in an endless loop of mistakes. All he could do was apologize and blame himself again.

With no business and no people to tend to days have been spent pacing and cleaning the decrepit daycare. Today was no different. Sun wiped his hands in the desk cabinet causing thick layers of dust to fly in every direction. Every item out of place has already been put back in its original spot long ago. All there was left was the tedious task of wiping away dust.

Moon never understood why he was so keen on getting into the smallest crevices. He couldn’t deny he had his fastidious tendencies but Sun always went above him. He always claimed it was a good way to pass time but Moon knew better. Even with the new body allowing both of them to be present at once Sun still was never the biggest fan of shutting down for long periods. Normally, Moon would push him into resting but Sun seemed to be in a better mood today and he didn't want to disturb him.

The crash of crumbling rubble made them jump from their spot. It was loud enough to hear across the daycare. Their eyes were drawn to the ceiling and they noticed a huge hole. Sun frowned. Was the building finally caving down?

"Must've been a rat"

"whAT?-" Sun choked out.

"What do you mean by a rat? A rat does not cause a hole in the ceiling to collapse!" Moon's only response was a shrug. From where they were it looked like it was around the ball pit area.

"Let’s check it to see-"

"NO"

"WhaT WHy?" Sun’s voice glitched from surprise. He didn’t expect such a sudden response.

"Because it's most likely nothing. The building is just deteriorating again…" He stated plain and simple.

"Well yes but-” Sun paused for a moment, “B-but we may as well check to make sure nothing is wrong!" Moon didn't respond. It’s going to be nothing again and he really wasn’t up for disappointment. Knowing Sun, they were bound to end up there regardless.

"Okay," he grumbled. Moon could feel Sun slightly bounce up. He sighed as they walked around the desk and towards the ball pit. As they continue their journey, Sun can sense Moon slowing down.

"Moon, what's wrong?-"

"Shhh listen" Sun paused. He didn't know what he was trying to listen to but he did so anyway. There was something in the distance. Were those… footsteps? The bots trudged closer to the sound quietly. For the first time in ages, their sensors picked up someone.

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"Dammit..."

This was your fifth time wiping your clothes off debris. You knew buildings like this had weak floors but you didn't expect it to give in that easily! You would say you’ve been through worse but you’ve never been through something like this. You’re honestly not sure if watching Youtube videos of failed urban exploring counts as an experience. 

This was supposed to be your biggest project yet. Entering the abandoned Pizzaplex had been done before but nobody had ever explored past the ground floor. You had one goal: Record as much exploration as your camera storage will allow, upload all footage to your channel, and satisfy the hungry viewers with the possibility of getting that sweet YouTube money. What you hadn’t anticipated was falling through the floor and being trapped in one of the areas 30 minutes into your exploration. Now you have to find a way out.

 You looked back at the ball pit and shuddered, thinking of what might have happened if it hadn't stopped your fall. Walking over the chipped rainbow bridge you pulled out your flashlight and observed what was in front of you. You had to admit the place didn’t age as badly as you thought! It has its flaws from the fire but you were surprised by how much stuff still survived.

The bright cheery colors that once painted this daycare have dulled to darker hues. Somehow the kid's chairs were neatly pushed into the tables and toy barrels were still stacked on top of each other. You looked over the massive play structure. They were still standing strong and tall beside some large dark spots in some areas which you assumed was also caused by the fire. A few of the giant mascot cutouts were hanging on the sides while others that had fallen were carefully propped up against the walls. When you shined your light on one of the aisles, the light didn't reach much distance.

"Geez this place is huge..."

You took a few steps before hearing a scuffle. For a second, you assumed it was some small animal. At least that's what you hoped it was. You were about to turn back when you heard it again. You whipped your flashlight in the sound’s direction.

"Hello!?" You kinda cringed at how hoarse your voice came out. You darted your flashlight for a bit until you caught it. You froze. How long was it standing there? You pointed your light at the animatronic.

Even from a distance, you could tell how huge the animatronic were. A split separated the two sides, which gave the appearance of two heads. Among them, one half had dark yellow skin and a crown that resembled rays from the sun, while the other half had darker blue skin with a nightcap resembling a moon. Each had two pairs of arms. Their clothes or at least what remained of them were tattered. Parts of their endoskeleton are exposed most noticeably on their face. Their glowing eyes pierced your soul. What felt like hours of silence were finally broken when their soft chuckles turned into hysterical laughter.

"NEW FRIEND!!"

"NOPE! NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!" You bolted in the opposite direction of the playground. As you ran you tried dodging as much debris as you could without falling over. As you approached the wall you could see large wooden doors. That's the exit! You weren't able to slow down your speed in time causing you to slam your arm against the door. Thanks to your adrenaline pumping you couldn't feel a thing. You tried pulling open the door only to hear clicking noises. IT’S FUCKING LOCKED!!!

“New friend!”

“New friend~”

“New friend!”

Their calls were growing closer.

You looked around until you crawled into one of the kiddie slides. You climbed your way up, lying flat on your stomach. You were pretty high up. There was no way they could see you as long as you didn't lean against the bars. The metal grating grows louder as the robot approaches where you once stood.

"N-new friend please cOME BaCK!!" He wailed in distress like a mother trying to find her lost infant.

“Shhh you’re going to scare them~” You gritted your teeth. Yeah, like they hadn’t scared you to death already. Unlike the other voice, this one was hushed and calm. As if it was a situation he knew all too well. The other voice gasped and quietly apologized. 

"Where are you, new friend?~" There was intense silence. They let out what sounded like a disgruntled sigh before the scraping faded away. Once you were sure they were gone you took a breath of relief. You didn't realize you were holding your breath the whole time. Your heartbeat was so loud you were afraid they would hear it. 'What even was that…?' You tried to recollect your thoughts. Everything happened so fast that you couldn't comprehend what was happening. When you tried thinking back about what happened all your mind could replay was the moment you stared into their ghostly irises.

'Okay, that's enough…’ You sat up. Another deep breath calmed your heart. There has to be another way out of here. You peer through the cage. From your vantage point, you couldn’t get much. There were only two things you could see from where you were: the front desk and the children's pit in front of it. You had to get a better view but how? You sure as hell wasn’t about to sneak down again. You looked towards the bridge connecting the two playgrounds. Despite its aging, it still looked sturdy enough to cross. Maybe this was your chance? You didn’t want to risk getting caught but you also didn’t want to die either. Well, there's only one way to find out… 

A small knock made you recoil back. You turned your head to the slide you came from. No. There’s no way they could get in here. With how big and clunky the animatronic look, they’d probably fall apart the moment you hit them. 

Upon getting up, you were met with jelly legs. You're gonna have to crawl this one out. You navigated carefully through the colorful maze. The number of dead ends you ran into got ridiculous. Sometimes you felt like you were crawling in circles until you finally found it. You silently cheered for yourself. The bridge was only a turn away!

Something wrapped around your ankle before you took another step. Your head spins to see several pairs of hands gripping your ankle. You couldn't scream before those hands brutally dragged your body down the slide. The suddenness of it all caused your head to bang against a turn. You hit the floor with a loud thud holding your head. All you could do was lay limp on the foam flooring. What even happened? You could feel your head throbbing from the pain. A giant shadow loomed over your figure. Rough, metal arms wrap themselves around you in a cold embrace. 

“Found you, friend, ~” The two laughed together making a strange combination of a cackle and a giggle. You wish you could fight back but you feel so nauseous and weak. All you could do was stand there awkwardly as you got crushed. Dread overwhelms your body.

“We were so worried about you, friend! You shouldn’t run away like that! I-I mean what if you got lost or h-URT!?” Their grasp on you was tightened as he spoke. The voice coming from what you assumed was the sun’s side made you tense up. His voice made your ears start ringing. Was he always this panicky?

“Now, now there’s no need for that anymore.” His hand cupped your cheek tilting it so you could face them.

“It won’t happen again~” The drop in his voice made it sound like a death threat.

“Besides-" He resumed back to himself.

"Think of all the fun we'll have together~!” Sun’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh, you’re right! We have so many activities we could do now that we’re together!” They easily pull you up and swing your body around. 

“We’ll have soooooo much fun~!” Moon chuckled

“We could play charades!” 

“And tell stories~!” 

“Oh oh, we could finger paint too! I haven’t done that in so long!!” The two exchanged enthusiastic opinions about everything they planned. 

You honestly felt like you would puke. It was too loud. Your head was throbbed and your whole body was aching. Everything felt so overwhelming. You didn’t care about exploring anymore, you just wanted to go back to the comfort of your home. You tried holding back the tears brimming in your eyes. The robots tensed when they heard soft hiccups. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks. Your body was lowered, bringing you closer together. Moon’s eyes widened while Sun’s eyelids drooped when they realized you were crying. 

“Friend, what's wrong?” Your cry turned into a full-blown sob. Sun and Moon quickly sat down. Laying you on their lap, they gently rocked you back and forth with their arms propping you up. Your sobbing could be heard throughout the whole daycare all the while Sun and Moon tried calming you down. They rubbed circles around your back whispering reassurances. 

“It’s alright~” 

“You’re safe now!”

“There’s no need to cry~” Their hands whipped your tears away. Your body becomes less tense.

“Did we do this?” You opened your eyes realizing they were looking at your head. Their concern was evident. You flinched when their fingers grazed the area you hit.

“Oh sorry! I-I-I didn't meAn tO do THat! WE-”

“Sun.” Moon interrupted

“We can fix this. As long as we follow instructed procedures they will be fine~”

“Oh right right! Sorry about that, friend” You could feel their fingers tenderly stroking your hair. They cradled your body while whispering soothing words.

You could’ve easily pushed them away and made a run for them, but you didn’t have the motivation to do so. You were beyond tired to fight back. It was getting harder to hold up heavy eyelids and the animatronic also seemed to realize this.

“Shhh rest~ You will feel better after a good sleep~” You had to admit their voice was comforting. This couldn’t be so bad right? They seemed nice enough. So it was okay to shut your eyes for a bit. You lifted your eyes one more time to see theirs. If only you were more awake you would’ve caught their lovesickness plastered on their faces gazing at you. Maybe then you’d realized sooner the situation you were now trapped in. You felt two soft taps on your forehead, mocking a kiss before slipping into darkness.

“Goodnight, Starlight~”

“Goodnight, Sunshine!”

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[obliqueblade]

A Post from a Friend

Hello, everyone. I am not Obliqueblade, and for those who have been here before, I’m sure you know what that means. For those unaware, or those stumbling across this blog in the future, I will explain. 

The original owner of this account, my best friend, has died. 

I didn't even know that she had a Tumblr, nor that she had planned to leave it with me after everything. It breaks my heart a bit to see her updates and talk about her prognosis as she did. 

I’m sure I’ll have more to say, eventually, I do plan on doing as she asked, completing her work the way she wanted- but for now, I want to grieve my friend. Then, I want to talk about who she was, explain just how much this community meant to her, and generally just talk about one of the greatest people I’ve known. 

She did leave a message she wrote a month ago, about a week before she passed, and I would like to share it with you all now. 

Feel free to leave comments, I’ll be back to answer soon. 

Thank you. 

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I have been putting this off for quite some time, but I fear I have no more time I can delay. Despite everything, I’m still a procrastinator at heart. I have spent far too much time thinking of how I want to address those who have stumbled onto my account and on my writing, but I fear for all my writing I am not sure how to word what I feel. 

Rather than continuing to wait, I have decided to write what I have collected of my thoughts thus far. I deeply appreciate those who have left likes, comments, and reposts of my writing- even those outside of “Who are you, really?”. When I started this journey, I had not anticipated it taking as long as it has. I also did not foresee what would occur at that time. I had thought I would live to see the end of my fic, but that can no longer be the case.

But that is the way life works, I suppose. Most people are not dealt the hands they deserve, nor are they given nearly enough time. 

I have always wished to help people- I had hoped that I would be able to achieve that in my life, but I am not sure I can say I have. Regardless, I am grateful for those who were able to contribute to my happiness these past few years. 

Recently, I have to admit I took a step back from writing, as well as watching Hermitcraft. I fear my heart may not be able to take not knowing what I will be left never to know. Waiting on those cliffhangers of “what’s next”- when I do not know if I will wake up tomorrow. 

I am satisfied with what I have seen so far, and as of writing this, Joel has announced his own TCG common card. I have asked the friend I have left this account for to get one on my behalf to join the others I have. I would like them, as well as all the merch I have to be with me. It feels important that even though I will no longer be here, those stay with me. 

While I may not be watching Hermitcraft as I wait, I am pleased with the memories I carry—the joy they bring me. The edits, art, and stories this community has created supported and distracted me in some of my darkest moments, and I truly regret that I will not be able to finish this story, with my own words, the way I had intended. 

Finally, I want to say, thank you. Even if you are discovering all of this after my passing, I am grateful to all those who have stumbled into my little corner of the internet. Just because I am gone, the things I have gotten to create will forever remain as moments captured from a different time.

This was truly the happiest few years of my life and in the words of Technoblade himself

 “I hope you all go on to live long, prosperous, and happy lives because I love you guys”

~ObliqueBlade Out

[orchid-mantis-petals]

WE WILL FIGURE THIS OUT TOGETHER

/ Hello!! HI!!

/ This is not another chapter of WHBY. That will update in the next few days when I find the time.

/ No this is something entirely different. A quick little something for someone very dear to me who had a bad day.

/ @maximumkillshot I hope you enjoy.

/ Genre: Fluff, comfort, angst

/ Warnings: Talks of medical history, seizures, hospital, anxiety, skin picking.

/ Summary:

“I-I don’t know. Just like my brain isn’t clear. It happened to fast Channie..one second I was talking you B/F/F and Lixie on a park bench. The next I felt my eyes roll back before moving left and right rapidly. My body felt like it needed to happen. But it was so out of my control I didn’t even know what was happening until I came to with Lix guiding me to breathe,” your explanation scared him more. A deep pit settled in his stomach as he listened to you speak. He wished he was there. The thought of one his younger members there to whiteness something so terrifying and unknown scared him more.

When Chan had settled into the studio that afternoon he hadn’t expected much to happen. In fact he hoped it would be a normal work day. His allotted time for the afternoon was with Changbin and Han in the studio. They had three new tracks to work through. The rest of the boys had various other things for their day. Vocalracha had scheduled in time for voice lessons and Lee Know was locked away somewhere working on some specialized choreography for the new album. He had some finished tracks sent over for the dancer to play with. He was sure Hyunjin was with him too. The day was supposed to be easy. Lix had a random free afternoon and had decided to spoil Y/N. And Changbin’s partner. With Chan and Changbin in the studio so often it was hard for them to spend the time they wanted with their loves. That being said Chan was sure to give Y/N his card. With explicit instructions to spend as much as she liked. He only hoped she’d listen and choose to spoil herself for once. It was four hours into their work that his phone rang. Felix’s contact ID appeared over his phone. But said device was buried in the bottom of his bag on silent. Three calls later and Changbin’s phone went off. But the shorter one had his phone on hand. The flow of the room was interrupted with the loud ringtone that blared over the current piece they were working on.

“It’s Felix,” Changbin remarked before he had let the phone go to voicemail. Chan gave him a pointed look to silence the device but before he could it rang again. Still Felix.

“Just be quick,” Chan remarked as he turned back to his laptop. Changbin answered quickly this time. He hadn’t let it go to voicemail.

“Felix, we’re in the middle of a track, what's up??” The younger Aussies voice was muted on the other side. Chan couldn’t hear what all was going on but he figured it had to do with the shopping trip he had taken the two girls on. “WHAT?!?!” When Changbin yelled Chan stood to scold him, but the face he had stopped him in his tracks. His eyes wide as he listened intently to whatever Felix had to say. “Yeah Chan is with me,” there was a pause..it was clear by the hand that settled over Changbin’s mouth that something had gone awry. He feared what it might be. He only hoped the girls and Felix were okay. “I’ll have Lee Know drive. And Chan will call Y/N. Thanks Lix. We will see you soon,” when Changbin hung up there was a stillness to the air Chan hated. Every breath he took was baited with anticipation.

“What..”

“Chan, sit,” he sat, slow and steady, the news he was about to receive had him braced for an impact for what he didn’t know. “Han get Lee Know. We need him to drive us to the hospital. Y/N had an accident. Felix said it looked like a seizure. But they aren’t sure. He drove her and my girl to the hospital. They are there now running tests,” Chan felt as though his heart had been crushed. He knew of your health problems, of all the various ways at which your body tried to torture you just for your existence. There were many nights he’d hold you to his chest as you cried. Anxiety from a doctor's visit the next day, or the sheer pain of your body breaking apart from just touching dust. You shared everything with him in time. He knew the ins and outs of your medical history by heart. But a seizure, it was not on the table. Not something deep rooted in your medical files. It was new to him, and likely new to you. Changbin hauled him up out of his seat. The stupor he was in shaken away with a literal head shake. “Lee Know has the car ready,” his bag was handed to him but he’d rather have left it behind if it made getting to you faster. Once in the car Changbin’s phone went off again, this time it was his partner calling. When he answered the phone was then deposited in Chan’s hands. “It’s your girl,”

“Y/N, are you okay??” His voice stayed level despite the panic that riddled his heart a mess.

“I’m alright Channie. A little foggy. They’ve got a whole bunch of tests going,”

“Foggy, how baby girl??” He wanted to know every piece of information you would give him if given the chance.

“I-I don’t know. Just like my brain isn’t clear. It happened to fast Channie..one second I was talking you B/F/F and Lixie on a park bench. The next I felt my eyes roll back before moving left and right rapidly. My body felt like it needed to happen. But it was so out of my control I didn’t even know what was happening until I came to with Lix guiding me to breathe,” your explanation scared him more. A deep pit settled in his stomach as he listened to you speak. He wished he was there. The thought of one his younger members there to whiteness something so terrifying and unknown scared him more.

“We will be there in just a few my love hang in there,”

“Okay, Channie..is Hyunjin coming?? Felix is a little rattled,”

“No sweet thing. But I have Lee Know and Changbin for B/F/F,” there was a pause on the other side of the phone, distant chatter about something he couldn’t hear. Then your sweet voice welcomed him back.

“I have to hang up Chan. I’m going in for a CAT-scan,”

“Okay Baby girl I’ll be there soon,” there was more faint chatter before the phone ended with the familiar doot doot doot. There was nothing more he hated in this moment than to hear that sound. Sure you were alive, coherent, and even spoke to him calm and collected. Still his heart ached for the distance that was currently between you. He loved you with his whole heart, this unknown entity that loomed over you and him was terrifying. When he looked over the dash he saw Lee Know was well above the suggested speed limit, Chan thought to tell him to slow down. But the idea of being beside you much faster kept his mouth shut. He’d let it slide this once..it wasn’t long before they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital you were at. Lee Know had barely pressed on the brake before Chan had leapt from the vehicle. Changbin was hot on his heels. He paced in the entryway as he waited his turn in line at the security gate. Once through he quickly walked to the reception counter. “I am looking for L/N F/N. I’m her boyfriend,” Changbin was at his side moments later as he slipped a SnapBack and mask over his leaders face. They both gave the nurse their ID’s and a guest badge was tacked to their shirts before they were given your room number and ushered on their way. Your room wasn’t far, since they still had you in the ER for triage. Though Chan had trouble seeing the room numbers with how fast he was moving. In the end that wasn’t something he had to worry about. It was the sound of your best friend, Changbin’s girl, that drew him toward your room. Whatever had happened had the small woman in a fit.

“What do you mean you don’t have answers??” he could hear the familiar clack of acrylic nails as they made contact with a hard surface. “Is that a medical term?? Spell it out for me Doc?? Because frankly it is appalling and rather unacceptable that your approach to me is ‘I have no answers,’ find me one. NOW!!” Chan eyed his best friend the look he gave read entirely as ‘get your girl,’ he’d never say it allowed, he had the utmost respect for her as a person. Especially when he learned how much she had helped you through some tough times in life. She had always been and always will be an advocate for your health.

“Are you the doctor looking after my girlfriend??”

“I am,”

“Explain to me what is going on. Right now. I can be patient but the health of my girl is far more important to me than anything else in this world. So please explain to me what is going on right now,”

“So far based on what Y/N has described to us we suspect she had a seizure. But all of the tests we have run have come back inconclusive. We just don’t have the proper answers for you at this time. My hope is that the CAT scan will tell us more,”

“And if it doesn't??” his arms folded over his chest as he looked down at the doctor over the bridge of his nose. He could see now why your bestie had been so upset. Her own medical history was a slight mystery. The combo you two had over shared lack of medical help and knowledge in your lives is what you two had bonded over in the first place.

“Then she has to meet with her primary doctor and schedule in some tests with them. There is only so much we can do in the ER. She needs to schedule with specialists with her primary,”

“Thank you doctor,” with that he watched as your brilliant face came around the corner in a gurney. Chan stepped away from the doctor, he let the small man walk away in hopes they would find something on that CAT scan. For now all Chan wanted was to be at your side. He slipped between the nurses that wheeled you and greeted you with a smile. He was sure you could tell he was smiling for the corners of your own eyes lifted in pairs to his. Once you were settled back in your room he finally spoke to you. “Hello my sweet baby girl. How are you feeling??”

“Tired, less foggy though. My head is clearer. It was like the episode needed to happen.”

“Good, that's good. The doctor wasn’t able to find much from your tests. He said if the CAT scan is inconclusive we will have to meet with your primary doctor,”

“Channie, I can't,” he lifted his brow to ask why not. “I cannot afford it. I already maxed out my insurance with this hospital visit. Everything else will be out of pocket. I just can’t afford it,” with a heavy sigh from your lips he looked at your lap. He watched as your hands drew together, the skin around your fingers picked apart from your anxiety. Gently he slid his own hands into yours to stop the habit. He then kissed the crown of your head as a way to draw your attention back to him.

“Don’t you worry about that my love. I will have you switched onto my plan. And anything the insurance might not cover I will,”

“Channie you ca-” he silenced you with a kiss on the lips. Sweet and slow. When he pulled back he was happy to see the sparkle in your eyes.

“I can and will baby girl,” he kissed you again. “No one will come between me and your health,” another kiss. “Not even you, got that??”

“I think I need another kiss to be sure,”

“Always baby girl,” he gave you another kiss, he’d give you a thousand more if you said so. His love for you was endless, boundless. “Tonight lets watch movies, and cuddle. Tomorrow we will make time for your doctors,” when you nodded he was satisfied. While the two of you waited on the final results of the tests he crawled into the small gurney with you his body a soothing balm for you. His own anxiety eased once he had you in his arms. “I love you baby girl,”

“I love you too Channie,”

[fiercynn]

otw july 2 board meeting: what the hell was that

so the otw (@transformativeworks) board had their Q2 meeting yesterday, which was highly anticipated given everything that's gone down in the past months:

the @end-otw-racism campaign demanding action from otw on their own commitments made three years ago to better address racist harassment in otw and on ao3 (btw, support end otw racism's current campaign #Vote To End OTW Racism!)

recent revelations about how otw has mistreated its volunteers, regarding azarias and how the org reacted after the CSEM attacks on volunteers last year, as well as how the policy & abuse committee (PAC) is overworked and treated by the legal commitee overall (documented here)...

...and ongoing mistreatment of chinese, chinese diaspora, and chinese-speaking volunteers, particularly regarding an incident last year that put volunteers in mainland china at risk, and the board's recent unilateral decision to close the otw weibo account without input from the weibo account leads or any chinese-speaking volunteers

the AI shit

and probably more that i've missed, honestly. so! this is my summary of the meeting, focusing mostly on the issues related to racism; i have screenshots of the whole meeting but will at this point only share those i find most relevant/interesting! alt text will be included for every screenshot in the image, not below it.

and hold on, because this is going to be LONG!

pre-meeting ableism in #help channel so shit actually started going down the previous day in the otw board discord's help channel where there was a pretty ableist resposne to a person who asked if the board could consider adding the pluralkit bot to the server. i wasn't there, but hojarasca on dreamwidth posted about it, and i believe some other folks who were there will post screenshots soon too.

all of that conversation was deleted from the help channel by today, which is not unusual but did mean that a majority of people at today's meeting might not know what went down.

board meeting starts; immediate chaos the board meeting started at 8pm UTC, and it was clear almost immediately that the board was unprepared. what you have to understand about otw board meetings is that they are not really meetings where the board members discuss anything with each other. basically otw board members show up, share an agenda , give written updates on the items on the agenda, take votes on board decisions (but without any discussion publicly), and take questions. none of the materials like the agenda or relevant documents were shared ahead of time, and the board did not offer a way to submit questions ahead of time specific to the board meeting. (otw does have a contact us form to email their board or committee chairs, but i've never gotten a response lol.)

another weird thing that happened before the meeting started was that board member alex tischer was active answering questions in the help channel up to five minutes before the meeting, but didn't stay for the meeting. i don't think a reason was shared for this. this is relevant because alex has been criticized for racist responses to chinese volunteers, particularly those that ran & interacted with otw's weibo account, both in the past & last month when they closed their weibo account without any notice to the volunteers. this will also come up again later in the q&a section...

anyway. the meeting starts. all of the discussion directly about the meeting is supposed to happen in one discord channel called #public-board-meetings; the #help channel is supposed to be for tech issues etc. there is no separate channel for asking questions to the board - those are supposed to be posted in the main board meeting channel. and as far as we can tell, there are no mods of either of these channels apart from board members.

at the start of the meeting there are at least 209 attendees. for context, the last board meeting in march had 31. i've heard from people who have attended board meetings for the past couple years that there are usually 10-40 attendees per meeting. but again, given what's been going down, it's not surprising that so many people showed up!

and because there are a lot of people who haven't attended these meetings before, attendees immediately start asking questions, both process questions about the meeting and actual questions they want to ask the board. which again is understandable because there haven't been many answers given in the #help channel, and the board immediately muddies things further by giving confusing instructions about when to ask questions. they first say this - that they are going to proceed through their agenda, so people should hold questions that are NOT about any agenda items until the end. they imply that questions that are about agenda items are okay as they go through the agenda, but there will be conflicting instructions about this later...

agenda is posted & actual meeting content begins...kind of here's the meeting agenda that was shared. not...terribly descriptive lol

- Decisions taken since the previous meeting - Strategic Plan vote - Update on OTW's Diversity Work - AOB (Any Other Business) - Time for questions

people immediately start asking questions about various agenda items & also procedure questions. very few of these are answered. the first agenda item is posted - decisions taken since the previous meeting.

the board gives us "a couple minutes to read the above". everything's getting a little muddled already because people keep asking questions (reasonably!) about agenda items. there are several questions about the specific agenda item of "decisions taken since the previous meeting". some of the questions are getting answered by otw volunteers but none by board members at this point.

the board moves on to the next agenda item without answering questions about the "decisions" item. people are asking for a separate channel for questions but none is created. board members tell us they will try to get to all the answers at the end, but that we should send any additional answers to the board through the otw contact us form. many people point out that they've rarely gotten responses that way.

board gives a brief update (that was NOT on the agenda) from the finance committee chair, who was not at the meeting, to say that the 2023 budget was posted earlier this year, and that people can send questions via the contact us form. i'll note here that i sent a message to the finance committee with a question about the 2023 budget two months ago and have not gotten a response.

strategic plan update + question procedure still unclear the board then starts to give an update on the strategic plan, which board members are to vote on today. attendees ask if the full strategic plan draft was shared publicly before this meeting and we are told it was only shared with volunteers, not with members or the public.

they do share an infographic summarizing the strategic plan. hilariously, the first version they upload is so blurry that it's unreadable. they then share a gdoc with alt text. if you are new-ish to otw stuff, this infographic and the jargon in it are probably pretty confusing.

the board keeps giving us "a few minutes to check things out". people ask them to not do that and proceed because we can read while they are typing. questions to the board keep going unanswered and various other people say that we're supposed to hold questions until the end. we again get told conflicting things about how to ask questions. a board member asks us to hold ALL questions until the end, but an otw volunteer points to an earlier statement from a different board member & says that questions on the current agenda item are allowed.

at 45 minutes into the meeting, when most questions are going unanswered (and a lot of only being answered by otw volunteers, not board members), the board disables messages in the main channel so that they can proceed with the agenda. this is not usual board meeting procedure and was unannounced until they did it. people start getting really creative with emoji reactions because they can't ask questions. the board admits that they were unprepared for the number of attendees at this meeting.

attendees then start asking questions in the help channel, which has been put on "slow mode", which means each user can only post every thirty minutes. multiple otw volunteers share in the help channel that they warned the board about preparing for the meeting, and the only change the board made in response was to make it 30 minutes longer than usual.

in the main channel, the board does not have any public discussion on the strategic plan (which has not been shared, only the infographic has), and votes unanimously to approve it.

diversity work update, aka a glorified otw news post the board moves on to the "diversity work update", which is now a standard section of every board meeting. they share two updates - firstly, that caste has been added as a protected class in the code of conduct, and secondly that they've heard the concerns coming from @end-otw-racism supporters and others. both of which were already shared a month ago in this OTW news post from a month ago, which they link to.

seriously, nothing new is shared in this part of the meeting that wasn't in that post. some update!

q&a part one the board asks for emoji reactions again to see how many people are in attendance. unclear why they do this unless they were hoping people might have left? but alas for them, there are still 182 people that emoji react saying they are in the meeting!

the board FINALLY starts answering questions, but they do not yet re-enable messages so that users can ask more questions. they start by addressing the pluralkit issue from yesterday, but they don't give any response about the ableism that was allowed to go unchecked in the channel.

then, BAFFLINGLY, they start with answering questions from someone who wasn't able to make the meeting. how did this person submit those questions beforehand? NO ONE KNOWS. fortunately this person had (imo) good questions, but again, why were their questions given preference? unclear.

okay there were a LOT of questions and responses, so i'm going to stick to sharing the ones that were most important to me, which were about addressing racism within the otw and on ao3. hopefully someone else will summarize other issues!

we finally get our FIRST REAL NEW RESPONSE on a diversity/racism issue! the board says they plan to hire a diversity consultant by the end of the year.

we also hear that changes to otw's terms of service are being proposed to give the policy & abuse committee more tools to address harassment, including "racially-motivated" harassment.

board says the best way for people other than otw volunteers to get involved with anti-racism issues is...to stay up to date on what otw is doing, attend public meetings, and send questions through the comment form. what.

the board does not answer how they have reached out to fans of color in their work to address racism, which i assume means they haven't; they instead say that fans of color are free to provide input/feedback via the contact us form. emoji reactions explode

the board says that the strategic plan has initiatives to combat racism including improving diversity in recruitment (of...who? volunteers, board members? potential future paid staff?), hiring a diversity consultant, & forming "volunteer coalitions"

slight digression from my focus on racism issues because of how many times the board has told us to submit questions via their contact us form: very little clarity on how long it will take for answers to be questions, or how long people spend on responses

the goals for the future diversity consultant are to do an audit of the organization and offer recommendations on how to proceed. couldn't be vaguer lol

otw does not currently have plans to have an internal committee for diversity, equity, and inclusion work, since they're relying on the external consultant, but if the consultant recommends it they'll consider

by the time they've gotten through these responses, there are only five minutes left in the meeting! remember, messaging by attendees has been disabled for the past 40 minutes, so everything the board has answered so far is from people who got their questions in during the first 45 minutes (or, apparently, one person who managed to get in questions before the meeting).

q&a part two at this point, the board FINALLY re-enables messaging for new questions, but clarifies that they will only take them until 9:30pm UTC. which means anyone who did actually wait to ask their questions now only has five minutes to ask them! questions start rolling in immediately. again, going to focus on the ones about racism.

i'm listing questions in chronological order that they are asked, but please note that the corresponding answers from the board are coming WAY later than the questions. the board took until 10:20pm UTC (almost an hour after the meeting was supposed to end) to answer all the questions. mostly i'm telling you this because the emoji reactions on the answers by the board get more limited as people understandably have to leave the meeting lol

the first question of round two is about how chinese & chinese diaspora volunteers have been treated re: the weibo account closure, & board member alex tischer's role in this.

board response is horrifyingly empty, only promising the creation of a new "anonymous form" to receive feedback from chinese and chinese diaspora volunteers on the situation.

an attendee asks for better prioritization of racism & equity issues in the meetings, and better preparation from the board. (note that the addition of "diversity work update" to the agenda is not new, i believe it was instituted late last year)

in response, board admits they were unprepared despite volunteers warning them, says they will take advice from this meeting forward. emoji reactions are out in full force

an attendee asks more details about how the diversity consultant research officer (who is NOT a hired diversity consultant, but an otw volunteer in charge of the hiring process for a consultant) engages with the board & what goals they have for the future consultant

response from board is that they meet weekly, and that the research officer is herself in charge of identifying goals for the future consultant

an attendee points out that "curate your space" tools are not enough to protect users from targeted abuse, including racist abuse, and that asking fans of color to reach out to the board instead of the other way around is bullshit (my words haha)

the board's response to this is to offload that onto the future diversity consultant. SERIOUSLY.

an otw member asks if the diversity consultant will also look at accessibility for disabled users across the otw

board essentially says "yeah, sure" lol

an otw member asks how otw will remove barriers to becoming a voting member and diversifying membership & committee leadership

board's response is that they don't know the demographics of their members or volunteers, which...somehow means they can't remove barriers that would help fans of color or non-western fans from becoming members and volunteers? lmaoooooooo

an attendee asks for accountability in ensuring that the incoming board keeps the current board's promises re: DEI, pointing to improvements made by the 2015 board that were later reversed by a new board make-up

board does not seem to understand this question so answers an entirely different one! (seriously, i double-checked which question they were responding to.)

an otw volunteer asks what the plans are to deal with the "ongoing exclusion and alienation of chinese-speaking volunteers"?

the board repeats that they have opened a feedback form for chinese-speaking volunteers. that's it.

so those are all the questions i saw on racism; as i mentioned, there were TONS more good questions on board transparency and communications, protection of volunteers, moderating board meetings better, lack of feedback collection on the strategic plan, etc.

at PRECISELY 9:30pm UTC, messages are disabled again so that no more questions can be asked. all of the otw board responses that i shared above are from after messages were disabled again.

takeaways this meeting was a complete mess. the process was extremely unclear and made things inaccessible; while the board did (from what i can tell) answer all the questions posted, people were not able to ask all the questions that they'd planned because of the unannounced disabling of messaging.

and then, of course, there's the fact that the majority of the answers are bullshit, which is probably the least surprising thing about this meeting.

it's just ridiculous that they weren't prepared for this. given everything that's gone down in the past months, why on earth wouldn't they assume that people would show up with hard questions? the mismanagement and incompetence is frankly astounding. which i guess is the story of the last few months re: OTW anyway!

so...see you at the next one in a few months, i guess? 🤷🏾‍♀️

[albertasunrise]

Hope - Hope in Heartbreak

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So first chapter's a little short but I promise its building... Gonna be away for a few days one a work trip but will try get some more updates out in a few days)

Series Masterlist

Joel wasn't sure how he'd made it home. His eyes glanced between the road and the seat strapped into the passenger seat. The tiny little life within it sleeping away and completely unaware of the circumstances for how she'd gotten there. His eyes we red and raw from crying. His cheeks were swollen and his lips split from his constant chewing of them. 

How was he going to do this? 

How was he supposed to take care of a newborn on his own? 

As his house came into view and he pulled onto the empty driveway, he scraped a hand over his face and let out a shaky breath. 

"Okay, baby girl." He said to the tiny thing beside him "We're home." He sighed, glancing down at her and smiling as he looked up at him with her dark eyes "It's just you and me now sweetheart." He sighed as he scooped her up and pulled her close to his chest "But we're gonna be okay." 

Sarah simply yawned, her head safely nestled in his shoulder. He allowed himself to smile at her before carefully getting out of his truck and grabbing her bag from the backseat. He was even more careful when opening the front door. Every action was as smooth as he could make it as he held onto his delicate daughter like she were glass. 

"Surprise!" Came a small voice and he turned in shock to see you standing there with a stuffed bear in your arms and a banner saying 'Welcome Home Sarah' hanging above your head. 

Joel stood in stunned silence as he stared at you. His stomach turned as he took in how excited you were and happy to see him. Then your eyes started to study the space behind him and your brows drew together as you asked him the question he'd known was coming. 

"Where's Ali?" 

Joel choked. The tears he thought had all but dried up returned with a vengeance and he held his daughter tighter as his knees gave out. Sobbing silently as he cradled her close. He flinched slightly at the feeling of you wrapping your arms around him but he was soon allowing himself to melt into the embrace as he sought out your comfort. 

"I can't do this." He choked, his head buried in the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

"Yes, you can Joel.' You said as you rubbed his back in an attempt to soothe his cries.

"I c-can't." 

"Yes, you can." You repeated "But just to be sure, I'll stick around and help." You finished, smiling when he pulled his head back to look at you "I'm here for you Joel." You reaffirmed "Every step of the way." 

All he could do in reply was nod as his tears came back and swept him away. You pulled Sarah from his arms when she started to cry. Rocking her gently as you helped him prepare a bottle for her. You couldn't help but pick out all of Alison's features in the child in your arms. Her nose and chin were the ones that stuck out the most. Then, when Joel was done, you handed her back to him and sat with him as he fed her. Smiling encouragingly at him as he did it. 

You were going to do everything you could for him. You knew that's what Ali would have wanted. What you hadn't anticipated though, was how you'd feel in the months that were to come. 

You were going to fall in love with your best friend's husband. 

"Someone's hungry this mornin'" Joel chucked as Sarah suckled greedily at her bottle "Fightin' off those ghosts while you're at it, baby girl?" 

"She full-on kicked me in the boob last night when I fed her." You chuckled as you placed a steaming hot mug of coffee in front of Joel "Girl's a born Ninja I swear." 

Joel grinned up at you, his eyes shining with genuine joy and it warmed your heart to see it. He loved his daughter. Doted on everything she did but he missed his wife terribly. You had temporarily moved in to help him with Sarah and had heard him sobbing to himself at night. Caught glimpses of him holding his daughter as he cried over the loss of her mother. 

A month had passed since that fateful day however and he smiled a little more every day. You lived for the moments you could pull a laugh from him. A warm washing over you each and every time. 

"So I thought we could take Sarah to meet Tommy this weekend." Joel piped up, pulling you from your thoughts "He's back for a few months and I really want him to meet her before he's sent off again." 

"That sounds like a wonderful idea Joel." You said sweetly as you sipped at your coffee "I can head back to mine whilst you're out. Make sure my plants are still alive and whatnot." You chuckled. 

"Right... Sure..." Joel trailed off and your brows pulled together in confusion at his reply. 

"Everything okay?" 

"Mhmm?" Joel replied as he sat Sarah up to burp her. 

"Joel?" You pushed "You're a crappy liar." 

"I just..." He trailed off again as he placed Sarah against his chest again and rested his cheek on the crown of her head "Well I just kinda thought you'd come with me." 

"Do you want me to?" 

"Only if you want to." Joel responded, shrugging slightly. 

"Joel... Do you want me to come with you to visit Tommy?" You said softly and he nodded shyly.

"Then I'll come!" You replied "I'll swing by mine on the way home from work. Need to grab some clothes anyway. Will make sure Mrs Mills hasn't drowned them again and then I'll be back in time for dinner." 

"You sure?" Joel asked and your heart squeezed at how vulnerable he sounded. 

"I'm sure Joel." You replied with a smile, chuckling when you saw him relax. 

"I just... I don't want you to feel like you have to do shit for me." He sighed, suddenly feeling guilty for all the help you'd bestowed on him in the past month "I know you got your own life and you're probably sick of me now but-" 

"Joel!" You stopped him dead in his tracks "I offered to be here to help you." You stated plainly "I know that its what Ali would have wanted me to do and I am happy to do it." You paused to take his now empty mug and refill it along with your own "I just assumed you'd wanna see Tommy on your own. If you want me to come then I would love to!" 

"You sure?" Joel pushed again and you rolled your eyes.

"You ask me if I'm sure one more time... I'll change my mind." 

You finished your second coffee and then left for work. Joel then spent the day getting little things done whilst Sarah slept. By the time she had woken up for her afternoon feed, he had done two loads of washing and had finished the dishes. Then, after feeding her and sitting to read a little of his book to her till she fell asleep, he then made a start on prepping the ingredients for dinner. 

He was impressed with how well he had fallen into a routine. But he did wonder how he was going to cope when he inevitably had to go back to work. Being the boss had its perks. His guys had all said to take as much time as he needed to but he had bills to pay and mouths to feed. He couldn't stay home forever. 

He had grown used to you being here. Before Ali had died, he and you had never really spent all that much time together but this past month had shown him why you and his wife had been so close. You were wonderful. Kind and selfless. Jumping in to support a man you barely knew when he was left windowed with a newborn and no idea what to do. 

He had always prided himself on having his shit together. Sure he had married young but when you know you know. He had taken over his father's construction company when he had died the year before and had quickly learned how to run the business the way his father would have wanted. 

Now at twenty-two he owned a nice house and had money in the bank but he was a single father with no idea what he was going to do when you inevitably returned to your regular life. He was sure that the day that happened, everything would crash and burns. But he couldn't be selfish. He had to learn to cope on his own.

You sat and watched as Joel changed his daughter's diaper. He always talked and sang to her as he did it and she lapped it up. He was a natural father, even if he couldn't see it himself. 

"He's doin' good, all things considered." Said Tommy as he sat down beside you and handed you an ice-cold can of cola. 

"He's a natural." 

"He'd be a mess without you though." The younger Miller stated and you shrugged. 

"I've helped a little." 

"A little?" Tommy scoffed "From what he told me... You've been his rock since Ali died." 

"He said that?" You asked, your eyes widening at the man's statement. 

Tommy nodded as he took a sip of his drink "Mhmm... Said without you. He dunno how he'd have coped." 

Your teary eyes drifted back to Joel who was blowing raspberries on Sarah's tummy. Your heart swelled at the sight. Him and her laughing. Carefree and without worry. It stirred something inside of you that scared you. Something that you didn't want to put a name to... because it was wrong. 

"Thank you." Tommy piped up after a brief pause "It's good to know he's got you to keep him up." 

"He'll always have me." You stated, giving the younger man a small nod "It's what Ali would have wanted." 

Your conversation was interrupted by Joel as he carried a sleepy baby over to the two of you.

"Think this one is ready for her nap." He stated and you stood, taking her from him and smiling down at her.

"I'll put her down. You two catch up." 

Joel watched as you carried Sarah out of the room and put her down in Tommy's bedroom where the travel cot was currently set up. A smile painted his lips as he thought about how good you were with his daughter. 

"She's a great gaL." Tommy piped up and Joel nodded in agreement. 

"Yeah, she is." 

"She's good for you." The younger man chuckled and this grabbed Joel's attention.

"What'd ya mean?" 

"I mean there's nothing wrong in moving on Brother." Tommy stated simply "She obviously cares for you and she's great with Sarah..."

"My wife just died." The older man grumbled "Her best friend!" He continued "She's helping me out... That's it. No feelings there." 

"You sure?" Tommy pushed and Joel's expression hardened "I mean. You seem to be really happy with her and I-" 

"She is helping me out." Joel repeated, his tone steady as he glared at his brother "I don't have feelin's for her. I appreciate her helping me out but we'll never be anything more than friends." 

Tommy threw his hands up in mock surrender. Knowing there was no point pushing the matter. He did know though that his brother felt something for you. Even if he wasn't willing to admit it to himself right now. 

...

You were just making your way back when you caught the tail end of their conversation. Tommy's voice floated through the air as you stopped just outside the doorway. 

"You seem to be really happy with her and I-" 

"She is helping me out." You heard Joel say "I don't have feelin's for her. I appreciate her helping me out but we'll never be anything more than friends." 

His statement stung more than you'd anticipated and you felt tears form in your eyes as you took a shaky step back and covered your mouth in an attempt to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. You internally scolded yourself for your reaction. You knew that this was just a friend helping a friend. That he didn't see you as anything more than that but to hear it voiced was so much worse. You tried desperately to try and wipe away the tears that you'd failed to keep at bay. Sarah crying then brought a sigh of relief from you. 

You made your way back to her and scooped her up, bouncing her in your arms. Her cries started to quieten and she was reduced to the occasional sniff and a wobbling lip. Something she'd definitely inherited from her dad. 

"What was all the noise for hmm?" You asked as you placed a sweet kiss on her brow "No more tears sweet girl." You whispered as you rocked her gently "Can't both be crying." You chuckled wetly. 

Sarah just stared at you then as you perched yourself on the edge of Tommy's bed. Her little brow furrowed as she seemed to wait for you to elaborate. 

"Not even sure why I'm crying." You sighed "Just heard some stuff your dad said and it got to me I guess. I mean... I dunno. Just being silly I guess." 

Sarah smiled at you and you chuckled. 

"You're not supposed to agree with me!" You stood again then as her eyes started to flutter closed again and you placed her gently in her crib "Sleep now sweetheart... I'll be here when you wake up." 

...

Tommy entered the lounge again to find Joel staring at a photo of the two of them and Ali. It had been taken on his wedding day to her. She'd demanded the photographer take one so that Tommy could take it with him when he was deployed. It sat proudly on his mantle beside a photo of Sarah. 

"Where did you get this?" He asked as he pointed at the picture in question. 

"Your uh... Well, your lady friend mailed it to me." Tommy stated "Came with a little note. Telling me when she was born and her weight and everything." 

"I uh... I didn't know she did that." 

"Thought you wouldn't mind if I did." You piped up as you reentered the room "You had a lot going on but I came across Tommy's address so I snapped one with my Polaroid and mailed it to him." You finished with a smile. 

"Thanks." He replied, brows mirroring Sarah's from a few minutes ago. 

"No problem." You replied with a shrug before grabbing your drink and taking a long pull of it. 

Tommy stood to the side, watching the interaction with a heavy heart. See, he had heard what you'd said to Sarah. Knew that you'd heard what Joel had said about you. He could see that the two of you were denying that although this had started off as a friend supporting another friend, it had developed into more. 

He just hoped one of you would see it sooner or later. Before this ended in heartbreak. 

Next

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[cookieswithay]

🤖"Reign of Donnie 0!"💜

🔨Donnie x female reader!🧪

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Not really any warnings. A teeny bit of suggestion, since everyone's older. This is just my own special future au. New York's evolved and a little more mystic. Happy reading.

°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°•●•°○°

• "Uh, dearest. I don't think this is a very good idea."

• You mumbled as you stared at the mechanical clone in front of you. Donnie rubbed your shoulders in reassurance.

• "Nonsense, Wifey! This is perfection."

• He strode over to his creation.

• "Meet, Donnie 0! Your home AI for when I'm not around."

• That's right. Your genius of a fiancee has created a robot clone of himself. Due to the brothers saving people worldwide now, he can't always be with you. So, he made you something that could protect you and make sure you aren't lonely. But, you weren't really taking to 'im.

• "Has it-"

• "He, Y/N. Use my pronouns."

• You rolled your eyes.

• "Has HE been tested already."

• He revealed the bot's "tested on brothers" seal.

• "Will he be robotic and scary, like movies?"

• "He's supposed to be me so... of course not."

• "You sure?"

• Donatello sighed. Convincing you is taking a lot longer than anticipated. Maybe he should try a different approach.

• "How about this?"

• He looked towards the door.

• "I leave you two alone and you see how you feel."

• That was indeed the wrong approach. You hopped on his arm, nearly pulling his lab coat off.

• "Don't leave me with this thing!"

• D sighed once again. Your stubbornness was your best yet worse quality. Time to initiate plan B. Bribery.

• "Hey, Y/N~"

• You looked up.

• "If you check him out, we can go to that one place you like so much."

• "...The toy coffin in the hidden city?"

• He nodded.

• "That's the one."

• After a moment of silence, you got down from his bicep. Begrudgingly, you approached his invention. You looked down at it's hand. 'Hold for 3 seconds' a button said. You took a breath and did as instructed.

• A little techno jingle played and slowly the clones eyes opened. Glowing purple pupils fell on you. You looked back at your Donnie, hoping for some guidance. But instead, he waved, pressing you to continue with his creation.

• "What is your name?"

• It said, startling you. (Huh, it's teeth glow for it's speech) You looked around and cleared your throat.

• "Y/N L/N. Although my last name will change to Hamato soon."

• It silently processed your words. In a instant, the robot's ENTIRE demeanor changed. It straightened out it's coat and fastened it's mask. After checking the time, updating and other stuff, the clone's attention was back on you.

• "Salutations, Y/N,"

• It took your hand.

• "I am Donnie 0, your home AI."

• You didn't know what to say. This robot was frickin SPOT-ON. The exaggerated vocabulary. The soft tone that was only reserved for you. AND, the natural swagger.

• "Isn't he magnificent!?"

• Donnie shouted, wrapping his arms up your neck. You nodded. (Although you're still admittingly a little skeptical.)

• "I put my ALL into him!"

• He slid next to his creation.

• "Note the chiseled features,"

• "The super strength,"

• "And my favorite part, the clean paint job."

• Just like any other time he showed off an invention, you clapped. That paint job is really good. He looked just like D is he was dipped in a tub of glitter. (Mikey probably did that) Your fiancee snickered and pointed, silently asking you to look at the robot.

• "Would you like to take me for a test run, Y/N?"

• Donnie 0 asked you. You squeaked and looked down at your feet. Um...(Why'd he ask you like that?) You shook your head quickly.

• "No thanks, I got work anyway so..."

• Your words faded when BOTH Donatello's grabbed your hands.

• "No you don't, you have the night shift today."

• "Let's spend some time together, shall we?"

• They both said in unison. Your cheeks burned. This is, um... Both of them smirked at each other. This is a terrific plan!

• An experimental week later...

• "Leo, be careful with that!"

• "What? Putting your little gizmos in the tank by portal saves a ton of time."

• You snickered. That's true. Working smarter and not harder is efficient. Unfortunately, D doesn't feel the same. He grumbled and tapped away on his wrist thing. (Tech gauntlet.)

• "If you want something done, you gotta do it yourself."

• His cargo grew some wheels and rolled in a straight line to the tank. (Although it's more of a deluxe trailer now. Don't let Donnie hear you say that though!) Do it himself, huh? You chuckled and tugged on his sleeve.

• "So how long is it gonna be this time?"

• He thought for a moment.

• "2 months if we're lucky, otherwise..."

• Probbles longer. You're a little sad, but it won't be too bad. Donnie's gonna facetime you everyday (even in battle) and you got an artificial intelligence version of him too. Although, not being kissed will eventually put a hole in your heart.

• "Looks like the tech is almost done."

• You mumbled. D looked over at you. He's doing that dreamy stare thing again. That's it, you're crying. You jumped on him, clinging to him like a sloth.

• "Oh Donnie, don't go!"

• Now it's his turn for the water works.

• "Do you think I wanna leave!? I hate this job!"

• The other brothers watched as the two of you hugged and blubbered incoherent stuff. Leo snorted, a laugh was waiting in his chest.

• "Is it me or do they do this everytime we have a worldwide mission?"

• "It's everytime!"

• Mikey shouted from the trunk. The "champion" shook his head. (Y'know with the tsk tsk tsk)

• "And to think, he threw a tantrum over me saying goodbye to my bed."

• Raph unintentionally drowned out his younger brother as he watched. Those were genuine tears.

• Can I find love like that?

• "Dude. Buddy. Raph."

• Leo's snapping in his face, but he's too busy thinking about married life. Meanwhile, Mikey's sneaking around trying to get in the hug.

• "Well, my darling Y/N,"

• Donnie said while wiping his eyes.

• "See you when I come home."

• "See when you get-hurgh!"

• You were crushed in another muscular embrace. This time with the other brothers. Mikey's leading it.

• "Bye, Y/N! I'll bring you another souvenir!"

• The youngest said. You also got a kiss on your cheek cause you were closest to him.

• "I'm gonna get a girlfriend this time Y/N."

• "So, please, I ask you to forget about me."

• Leo sighed dramatically. Both you AND Donnie kicked him at the same time. (Although, your kick wasn't nearly as hard as your fiancee's.)

• "And we'll be back before you can say Ko...Konachi..."

• "Hi in Japanese!"

• Raph shouted. (He brought the hug in the air) You chuckled.

• "Looking forward to it."

• Silence. And...everyone started crying. 2 months is a long time. After 30 minutes of telling one another how much you'll miss each other, they finally loaded in the tank. But, not before Donatello gave you a kiss that could make your heart stop from lack of oxygen. You watched silently as the most interesting in your life people drove away. But at least this time, you both get a new adventure. You tapped your new "watch".

• Activating Donnie 0.

• Living with your new man bot, was a little awkward at first, but you got in swing pretty fast. It was like the sleepovers you had with his live action. He would go shopping with you. Visit the hidden city with you. (Nowadays, it's more like the exposed city. Humans and Yokai exist in peace now.) And overall just spent your everyday life with you.

• It's nice. Kinda made you wonder if this is what your life would've been, if your Donnie wasn't a world wide secret ninja... Eh, no use crying over it now. When you're fiancee returns, he's staying for a year. But what will become of your ai then...

• Day 24 (one month nearly down)

• "Donnie 0, I'm home!"

• You called from the door. As usual, your bot hovered from your room. (He's not a walker, just like his creator.)

• "Greetings, Y/N,"

• He said, with a bow.

• "Did you have a good day at work, darling?"

• He asked as he pulled your coat off. You couldn't help but giggle like a minor. You loved that D added your pet names to 'im. Made him alot more lifelike.

• "It was okay, I finally turned in my report."

• The handsome robot hung up your jacket as you rambled on about your day. He also has your iced coffee and your dinner waiting in the fridge. And is FULL ON ready to give you a massage. Just say the word.

• "How was your day, Donnie 0?"

• His heart drive sparked. There you go again, wondering about he's doing.

• "It was fine. I just shined the house and charged all day."

• He replied, trying to sound chill. You chuckled and shook your head.

• "I keep telling you,"

• You looked over at him.

• "If you stay on the charger too long, you won't be able to run without it."

• (Little fact you learned from D when you guys were teens) Once again, his heart drive sparked. This time it lasted for a few minutes. You kicked off your shoes and stretched, completely unaware how your affecting this AI.

• "I'm gonna take a shower,"

• "Could you call April for me and see if she's home? I gotta tell her about the awful Lu jutsu adaptation."

• Donnie 0 nodded

• "Yes, ma'am, consider it done."

• He replied smoothly. You smiled and disappeared into your room. And...your door is closed. The robot swooned. You're so perfect. Beautiful, smart, and funny! And with just a touch of flaws. That checks all his all his boxes! But, alas, you're in love with his creator. The one who gave him life and the opportunity to even meet you. Mecha Donnie sighed and grabbed your phone. Maybe fulfilling your request, will take his mind off of this.

• As he scrolled through the contacts, he stumbled across a voicemail. It from your real beloved. Being naturally nosy, he tapped it. Images flew from the phone, swirling around the room. It was quite a sight. (Although, he was sure he could conjure something better.) Slowly, the pictures came together, forming the real Donatello. In a rather disheveled ninja uniform.

• "Japan hasn't been kind."

• Donnie 0 mumbled, shaking his head

• "Hello, Y/N."

• The hologram purred, while stretching dramatically. This was for you alright.

• "Just checking in to see if you're okay and I have some good news."

• The robot raised his steel eyebrow. News and he wasn't notified?

• "Drum roll please,"

• The camera was turned to his brothers. Everyone "drummed" dramatically.

• "Your hero is coming home early!"

• The robot's heart drive crackled. But, not in a good way. Coming home early!?

• "Give me a week, dearest. And Japan's biggest threat will be vanquished."

• Donatello said with a warm smile.

• "And Donnie will stop crying into his pillow!"

• Mikey shouted from the background. (The Ai couldn't tell if he was being malicious or just dreadfully honest.)

• "Thank you for bringing up painful memories, Michael."

• He said, stiffly.

• "Anywhiz, I love you. Let's facetime tonight."

• He said a few other words his creation would've rather not of heard and finally signed off. Donnie 0 stood there in silence. In a week, the paradise he was living would be gone. He's VERY sure he won't be scrapped, he's the greatest robot ever created. But, going on without you...he might as well be.

• Think, Donnie, think.

• I'm best AI on the planet.

• How can I prevent the end?

• ...Eureka! Your voice! He can use a audio file of it and keep his original away. Maybe even break you two up eventually. Yeah. This is a great plan. His finger opened, revealing a audio cable. He plugs into your phone.

• "Apologies, master Donatello,"

• "I wanna spend a little more time with my fiancee."

• To be completed in part 2~

(This is part 2👆)

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I know I got a LOT of series going on, but this one is gonna be finished in part 2. And maybe, I'll show off what everyone looks like now, including the lovesick robot. Anywho, chao!

(And this gif may change.)

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part eighteen

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

joel does his best to distract himself, and you, and time just keeps on going.

a/n: SURPRISE. did I think this was gonna be done today? nope. did I anticipate the things happening in part 18 and 19 to be one big part? YEP. is there gonna be another part probably on thursday or friday? ALSO YEP. (also I’ll be replying to comments on part 18 soon I swear!)

word count: 5.7k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, some intense sex, joel is trying to fix his problems the wrong way, mentions/depictions of ptsd, canon-typical violence, we love tess servopolous in this house 🤍

✨y’all should know the drill by now - @friskito-library for updates on new chapters and new works!✨

Tess stays long enough for you to scrounge up something faintly resembling dinner. Between the two of you, you put a decent dent in the whiskey bottle. She doesn’t really pry, doesn’t ask anything beyond if Joel is okay, if you are. You open your mouth to answer, and the bathroom door opens. He doesn’t so much as glance at the two of you before he heads towards the bed, falling sideways onto it and rolling onto his side, facing the window, away from you both.

“I don’t know,” you breathe out, reaching for the bottle. You can feel Tess watching you, that intense gaze of hers making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Joel caught him outside one of the Firefly buildings the other day. Split his knuckles on Tommy’s nose.”

“That explains it,” Tess sighs, leaning back in her chair. You slide the bottle across the table to her. “He was pissed as hell when he got home, all bloody and shit, wouldn’t tell me why.”

“It was like pulling teeth, getting him to tell me,” you say, glancing over at Joel’s prone form on the bed. You let your voice drop lower, just above a whisper. “My sister and I used to fight, but we never…” You shake your head, let your voice trail off. “It’s not the same, I know, but still. Did you have siblings? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

Tess shakes her head, swigs from the bottle with a wince. “Nope, only child. Thankful for it now, but it was lonely, growing up.”

You push your hands through your hair, sighing. “I can only imagine.”

A strange silence settles over you, and your gut twists. Tess is the closest friend you have, you hate lying to her, and that’s all you’ve been doing since Nick left. It’s for her own good, you reason, but it does little to ease the guilt.

“One of us should try and talk to Tommy,” she says after a moment, and you lift a brow. “Try and talk some fucking sense into him.”

You chew your lip, nodding. “I mean, you’re the logical first choice, I would think. Tonight was supposed to smooth shit over between him and Joel to start, not make it worse. If I go now, he’ll just think I’m defending Joel. And if Joel even agreed to go, they’d both end up beat to shit, I think.”

“This could get him killed, Liv,” Tess says, and your stomach fills with dread. “These fucking Fireflies, they have no idea what they’re doing. I saw the beginnings of shit like this in Baltimore, and that was before it even got to the point of bombings and shootings. They don’t know what they’re doing, what FEDRA will do to them if they get caught. We can’t lose Tommy. We can’t.”

“I know.” You reach out, cover her hand on the table with your own. Her knuckles twitch beneath your palm, and you curl your fingers around hers, squeezing. “Try and talk to him when you go home,” you say, your voice low, still just above a whisper. “See if you can get through that thick Miller skull. I’ll meet you in the afternoon tomorrow, and we’ll go from there.”

She just nods. “You got a job tomorrow?”

“Radio,” you tell her, rubbing your fingers across your brow. “Now that Hartford’s bust, gotta start making some new connections, see what’s out there.”

Another nod. “Smart.” But you can see the concern on her face.

“It’ll be okay, Tess,” you murmur, squeezing her hand again. “Promise.”

She leaves shortly after, taking the mostly empty whiskey with her. A peace offering for Tommy, she claims, and you hug her tightly before closing the door behind her.

You turn the lights off, double check the stove is turned off, unplug the generator that runs it. Soft yellow light filters in from the street, the curtains you still haven’t replaced ruffling slightly as you shut the living room window, blocking out the noise of the street below. Soldiers on patrol, trucks rumbling past, ambiance that’s far too close to what you’d grown used to in Boston pre-outbreak.

Joel murmurs your name as you head towards the bed, shrugging off his flannel and tossing it onto the pile of clothes in the corner. You need to do laundry, you think faintly, sinking onto the edge of the bed. There are blood-covered clothes somewhere in that pile, things you should probably just burn instead of trying to scrub the stains out in the shitty QZ laundry.

As you lay back, Joel rolls towards you, slinging his arm around your waist, hand snaking right up your shirt and curling around your ribs. He presses a hot kiss to your collar as you let your fingers rake through his hair, feeling the rumble in his chest as he hums.

“Joel,” you whisper, scratching your nails against his scalp. He makes a little noise, shuffling closer to you on the bed. “Baby, are you okay?”

He goes still suddenly, muscles tensing in every place he’s pressed against you, hand squeezing your ribs. You try to roll towards him, your free hand reaching for his shoulder, but he pushes your hand away, lifting himself up and over you, one thigh sliding between your legs until the thickness of it is pressed right against your crotch. It makes you hiss.

“Joel—”

“Don’t,” he rasps, his other hand planted on the bed beside your head. You can’t help but arch up into him, your body always managing to react to him whether you want it to or not. “Let me make you feel good.”

“We should ta—” you start, but you’re cut off by a bruising kiss. The force of it presses you down into the pillows, one leg lifting to hitch over his hip, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. He drinks the air from your lungs, pushes his tongue past your teeth and tastes your mouth, lowers himself just enough that the friction of his body weight sparks your blood with lust.

“In the morning, we can talk,” he grumbles, moving his mouth along your jaw, nipping at your skin. “I don’t wanna talk right now. Not about that.”

“J—” you start, but you never get the rest of his name out.

You’re only wearing a thin tank top, the flannel discarded, and Joel makes the most of it, curling his fingers in the front and pulling, your breasts spilling out over the elastic. He wastes no time, lowering his head to one, giving you just the slightest edge of his teeth, his hand abandoning your ribs to tweak at your nipple, coaxing it to a peaked bud between his knuckles.

Back arching, you pull at his hair, hooking your other foot around his leg and forcing him closer to you, seeking out the friction of his body between your legs. He doesn’t give it to you, but instead lets his mouth wander across your chest, giving your other side the same teeth-and-tongue treatment while his hand moves down, fingers sliding along your stomach, diving straight under the waist of your sweats. The pads of his index and middle press down hard on your clit, and you keen, his name gritted out as he draws circle after circle, the pressure maddening in the best way.

He detaches from you just long enough to pull his fingers back, pushing both past his lips, tongue laving at his knuckles. As he does, you reach for your waistband, lifting your ass and shoving the fabric over your hips. It gets stuck, your legs pinned together, but Joel barely seems to notice. His mouth returns to your chest, bites nipped across your skin, while he wedges his hand against you, fingers curled and pressing into you in one fluid motion. He buries them to the hilt, and stops, letting you adjust, his mouth still paying close attention to your nipples. You’re sure your chest will be littered with bite marks come morning, but as he curls his knuckles, you don’t fucking care.

“Joel,” you manage to rasp out, one hand buried in the back of his head, keeping him against you. “God, fucking fuck, please, can you—” The words are cut off with a moan as he scissors his fingers wide, pressing against that spot that makes your vision white out.

“What, baby?” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your skin. “What d’you need? Use your words.”

“I…I want…” You’re panting at the intensity, the multiple points of pleasure making your head spin. “Fuck.”

In a flash, he’s pulled himself out of your grip, hovering over you. With one hand, he pulls your sweats off completely, tossing the fabric to the side, and slides his knees beneath you, your legs spread wide either side of his hips. He leans over you, fingers still buried deep, and his palm rests at the base of your throat, dark eyes flashing down at you in the dark.

“Words, Liv.”

You groan, reaching for his wrist, pulling his hand higher up your neck until you can feel his fingers either side of your throat, just enough pressure to make everything in you tighten. He curls the fingers inside you again, your thighs shaking as he does, and he leans down further, takes your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging before letting it snap back.

“Want your cock, Joel,” you nearly whimper out, the pressure and the pleasure and the whiskey in the back of your head getting the better of you. “Please, need to feel you.”

He wastes no time giving you what you ask for.

Faintly, you hear the clatter of his belt hitting the ground, the metallic sound of his zipper, the low grunt as he settles himself over you. Your hands scrabble for bare skin, diving beneath the hem of his t-shirt, scraping at scars and freckles and the dips in his spine as he pushes into you. You both groan together, Joel nipping at your cheek, hot breath fanning your lips.

He’s losing himself in you, you can tell. Even high on the pleasure he’s pulling from you, you can feel it in every thrust, every squeeze of his hands, every touch of his lips. You need to talk, but the only talking he wants right now has nothing to do with the state of your lives. But you can feel the desperation, the need, the want, the lust, the love. You feel it in yourself, too, and you let it take over.

You cum with a cry muffled in Joel’s shoulder, your nails digging into his skin as he pounds you through it. The sound of the box spring scraping the cinderblocks nearly makes you laugh, but his mouth finds yours before you can let the noise out, instead swallowing down his moans as he spills himself deep. 

He keeps driving into you, every nerve set on fire, wringing another orgasm out of you that steals what little breath you’ve sucked down. He moans into your mouth when your body clenches down on him, your nails digging in deeper, probably deep enough to draw blood, definitely enough to leave red welts on his shoulders. You’re clinging to him, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress the only thing so solid and comforting that as he settles against you, you think you could fall asleep right then and there, and you nearly do.

You’re faintly aware of him pulling out of you, his fingers trailing between your legs as his spend seeps out, pushing it back in, rubbing his now-wet thumb over your clit over and over. You let out a whine, teetering on the brink of overstimulation, but his mouth covers yours again, soft kisses littered across your lips, corner to corner.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rasp, the words almost begged. “Please?”

Joel was quick to give you what you want, and you’re no different, fisting his t-shirt in your hand, your legs spreading as he pushes his fingers into you. The intrusion makes your blood spike, still reeling from the feeling of him, and the combination of your orgasms between your legs only makes his fingers move that much easier, finding all the right places over and over until you’re a babbling mess, thrashing in the sheets as he coaxes a third from you, praise muttered in your ear the whole way through.

In retrospect, you know that he planned it this way. Distract you with sex, make you cum so hard you see literal fucking stars, leave you so spent you’re barely coherent by the end, shoving weakly at his shoulder, your chest heaving and sparks shooting across your vision. After you’ve both cleaned up, dragging yourself to the bathroom on shaky legs, Joel huffing a laugh and you shooting him a glare — you’re exhausted. 

By the time you stagger back to the bed, cleaned and clothed, your heart still racing and your breaths still heaved, Joel’s completely asleep, and you just shake your head, sliding onto the bed with him, fitting yourself against him, pulling his arm around your waist before you let yourself drift off as well.

+

It gets to the point where it’s not even subtle. He’s being painfully obvious about it, obnoxious even. You can barely get a word out, barely manage to make it through the door most days before he’s on you, tugging at your clothes and seeking out your mouth.

The moment your eyes open in the morning, he’s pulling at you, mouth seeking yours, hands caressing your body, waking you up in the best possible way. It doesn’t matter who gets home first; he’s either waiting sat at the kitchen table, leaping to his feet with a grunt the moment you’re through the door, or he’s the one bursting through, kicking the door shut behind him and fucking you on the nearest flat surface. The kitchen table, the counter, the couch, the bed. Joel’s not picky.

It’s a distraction, you know. He’s trying to distract you from getting him to talk about Tommy, about what was said that night, and is distracting himself in the process.

You haven’t seen Tommy since that less-than-pleasant family dinner. From what you’ve gathered from Tess, he hasn’t been at their apartment much, and it’s rare for her to see him between curfews. He’s snuck back in through the window a few times, scaring the living hell out of Tess in the process. She’s tried to pry each time, try to find out where he’s been, but he won’t say a damn word.

Tess tried to talk Tommy out of it when she got back that night, like you’d planned, but got nowhere. You tried to corner him in the stairwell on your way out of the apartment one day, and he bolted like a scared animal before you could get a word out. 

He bails on the few smuggling runs you manage to plan in the weeks that follow. He’s awol, in every sense, but it doesn’t leave you short-handed — Tess is always up for a challenge, and knowing Gwen and her crew aren’t an issue anymore gives you a sick sense of safety.

Joel’s a little reluctant to head out of the QZ, easing only slightly when you inform him Tess is game. When you remind him that there’s no possible way you could have a repeat of last time, he relaxes further still, and when you drag your hands through his hair, kissing your way up his throat as you go, murmuring into his skin that it’ll all work out just fine, he’s putty in your hands.

So, nearly three weeks after family dinner, you’re heading out on another run. No drop or meet-ups this time, just an exploration of sorts. There’s a neighbourhood north of the city you hit in the early days of the QZ, when Nick was still keeping all your secrets and looking the other way when you snuck back over the wall. Big houses, cookie-cutter shit lining the streets, you’d managed to pick through a few of the bungalows, but there were bigger homes, near mansions that you have yet to explore. Chances are most of them are picked clean, but your luck has yet to run out.

Joel’s a good ten feet ahead of you, rifle slung across his back. One of the bigger guns in your supply; you don’t have much ammo for it and it was usually Tommy’s, since he was the best shooter of the four of you. Seeing Joel carrying it, you can’t help but wonder if his choice of weapon was purposeful or not. You’re on his right side, hanging back with Tess, the two of you chatting away as you walk the empty roads between the city and the suburb. It’s a weird little blip, the roads lined with cars, ones you remember being parked in the middle of the lanes now pushed out either side, leaving the middle clear.

“They must have cleared it,” Joel calls over his shoulder to you and Tess, inspecting one of the cars, the damage on its side. “Made way for their big trucks and tanks and shit.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Tess jokes, and you have to stifle your laugh at the dry look he gives her.

You continue on, your bat in hand, hefting it over your shoulder as you walk. Tess is talking, recounting her last conversation with Tommy before you’d left. “He still won’t say a goddamn word,” he tells you, and you glance at Joel’s back as she speaks, not missing the way his shoulder bunch slightly and he gets a few more feet ahead of you. “It’s for our own good, apparently.”

It nearly stops you in your tracks. For your own good. The same fucking excuse you’ve been using as reason why you haven’t told Tess about your…condition? It’s for her own good.

“He’s stubborn,” you say, adjusting your grip on the bat. “I told you, I tried to talk to him, but he fucking bolted.”

“Like a scared fucking animal,” Tess agrees, her brow pinching. “He knows this is fucked up, and yet he just doesn’t fucking get it. You know three people and four soldiers died in that Firefly shootout the other day? Innocent people, not fucking freedom fighters. Tommy’s gonna end up dead, or blown to shit.”

You wince, and Tess grabs your arm.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you repeat, brushing her off, trying to brush off the chill that crawls up your spine. You swallow hard, jutting your chin towards Joel’s back. “He’s just as bad. I can’t get a goddamn word in with him before he’s pulling my fucking clothes off.” Tess laughs, and you drop your voice low. “He’s literally screwing me into submission.”

She gives you a conspiratorial grin. “Is that really the worst thing?” You sputter out a giggle, clamping your hand over your mouth, and Joel glances over his shoulders at the pair of you, brow slowly rising. It makes you both burst into laughter, and it gets to the point where Joel stops in his tracks, turning back to scold the both of you for being so loud.

“Gonna get us fuckin’ swarmed, the two of you.”

You both whisper apologies, Tess giving a half-assed salute to Joel’s back when he turns around again, and you smack her arm, rolling your eyes. A moment passes before she speaks again, but there’s something different in her expression.

“All his stuff is gone, Liv,” she tells you, and the tone in her voice nearly stops you. “There’s no talking him out of it. The apartment’s half empty, and honestly, the guy could be a pain in the ass sometimes, and he snores like a trucker, but I miss him. It’s weird, being alone. I never was, not since before Nate, and now it’s just…”

“Lonely?”

“Yeah,” she nods, her gaze going a little far off. “It’s too quiet all the time, and knowing what he’s getting involved in, it fucking sucks.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, shoving your free hand through your hair, nodding in agreement. “It does fucking suck. I mean, our couch is always open, you could come—”

“Move in with you two?” she asks, both brows lifting. “Fucking like bunnies all the time? No thank you.”

You stifle your laugh, sticking your tongue between your teeth. “I’m just saying, door’s always open for you; I hope you know that.”

“I do.”

You snap your fingers, remembering your promise to her what feels like a year ago. Has it been that long? “I still have to set you up with someone,” you offer, and she starts to protest, but you try to wave her off. “I know, I know, no soldiers, and I swear I won’t, you can just—”

“I don’t need you too, Liv,” she says, “I found someone myself, actually.”

“Oh?”

She nods. “Her name is Robin, she lives in the other building, sometimes works the same food bank shifts as us.” Your jaw drops, knowing exactly who she’s referring to, and Tess is laughing as the realization works its way across your face. Letting out a quiet squeal, you punch her arm lightly, bouncing excitedly. Tess is laughing, and you’re giggling, and it feels nice.

Joel shoots you another look over his shoulder, and you both fall silent, covering your mouths with your hands as he turns back. Tess reaches for your arm. “I really like her, Liv,” she says, and you revel in the warmth that spreads through your chest at the sincerity in her tone. “It’s only been maybe a month or two, but she’s…god, I don’t know. She’s great.”

You beam at her. “I’m glad. You should bring her by, next time we have family dinner.”

“Joel’s gonna be outnumbered, you know.”

You wave your hand, flicking your fingers toward his back. “He’ll survive. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us. End of story. Besides, I have a feeling we’re gonna find the good liquor today; Joel can drink his fill and then some.”

Tess just laughs, and you keep on going.

The neighbourhood looks completely different than you remember, not that it shocks you. All the gardens you remember walking through have become overgrown, the cracks in the sidewalks deeper, the cars parked in most of the driveways more rusted. Joel finally falls back into step with you as you enter the cul-de-sacs, his face wary. You heft the bat, giving him a nod, and the corner of his mouth quirks, but that’s all you get.

He’s been stoic as hell, when he’s not distracting you with his hand down your pants and his mouth at your throat. The few times you’ve gone out into the city together, he’s stone-faced, an attack dog looming at your side, shooting daggers at anyone who lets their gaze linger on you longer than he likes.

Thankfully, the neighbourhood is quiet. You poke through the few houses you want to snoop through as a team, making sure they’re clear before you break off, Tess taking one of the smaller places, you and Joel heading for the largest on the block. 

Joel decides to take the kitchen first, while you head up the stairs, letting the end of your bat rattle the spokes in the handrail as you go. The house is gaudy as hell, clearly once belonging to people who had more money than they knew what to do with. Everything is in disarray now, the carpets stained with blood and bootprints, the picture frames all askew, the wood flooring cracked in places. But still, somewhere underneath it all, there are remnants of a family, unknown faces that peer back at you from the photographs, poised to perfection in a studio somewhere in the city. You had friends that were photographers, before, friends of Dean’s. Who knows where they are now.

The first bedroom you step into looks like it might have belonged to a teenage boy. The walls are a nice blue, wall-to-wall bookshelves along one side, a seat built into the window ledge, a queen-sized bed that’s been stripped of all its bedding, the mattress now stained with substances you hope only occurred after the outbreak. A computer desk in one corner, the monitor smashed inward, the keyboard shattered on the floor. But on the shelves, something of the room’s inhabitant still remains. Comic books, stacks of them, still intact, catch your eye, along with a soccer trophy that’s been toppled, cracked in one place.

You rifle through the comics, thumbing through the pages. A few of the covers are faintly familiar to you, but one jumps out. Savage Starlight. It’s a little ripped at the edges, clearly well-loved, and there are a few of the same series, what looks like the first four issues.

Stuffing the comics into your bag, you head for the next bedroom. The walls are pink, the twin beds on either side covered with blood, and when you see the gaudy decoration on the wall, your heart leaps into your throat and you back out of the room, yanking the door shut so hard it shakes on its hinges.

Sisters.

The ache never really goes away, not truly. You’ve never really stopped thinking about Anna, not once. Hell, you still remember the last conversation you had, before everything went to shit.

+

It was your birthday — Joel’s birthday too — when everything that happened, happened. The evening is crystal-clear to this day, the events that unfolded in your apartment that night seared into your memory, and your shoulder. The morning is a little fuzzy now, but you remember your lunch hour at work:

Dean called first, to tell you he pre-ordered dinner, Thai from your favourite spot, and told you to have fun with your friends at happy hour, that he’d be waiting when you got home. He ended the call with a breezy love you, sweetheart! and you still remember the way it had made your heart hurt, just a little. An ache that was eased when Joel called you later, but right after you hung up with Dean, your phone rang again. Anna.

“Helloooooo,” you’d singsonged, phone propped between your head and your shoulder as you moved the bouquet of roses Dean had sent across your desk, trying to get back to your computer so you could actually get some work done once your lunch hour was over.

“Happy birthday, favourite sister!” Anna had shrieked, and you’d winced at her volume, laughing to yourself as you reached for your still half-full coffee cup.

“I’m your only sister,” you reminded her, and she scoffed.

“Shut up. Are you having a good birthday?”

“It’s not bad,” you answered, “as far as twenty-fifth birthdays go. But it’s still early.”

“I was gonna call you this morning,” she said, and in the background, you could hear the bells of the hardware store ring, signalling a customer, “but I thought you and Dean would be celebrating and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

You’d choked on your coffee, spewing it all over your computer screen, and Anna just laughed. “You’re a menace!”

She just laughed harder, and you couldn’t help but giggle along with her, wiping your screen down, checking to make sure you hadn’t spilled any on yourself. The conversation continued; you asked about your parents, the store, tried to not ask too directly if she’d seen Joel around lately. She returned each of your questions, asking after Dean and work and when you were coming home next, and then—

“Liv, I’m moving out.”

“Huh?”

At that point, Anna was only twenty-one. She’d taken a few years off after high school to try and figure out what she wanted to do, but had apparently hit a roadblock when you moved home after college. Not that you minded much, it was always nice to be around your sister more constantly. It felt different, after you moved to Boston. She called more often, and you talked for hours and hours until you could hear your father shouting in the background that she was gonna rack up his phone bill, but he quickly quieted down when she yelled back that she was talking to you.

She hadn’t really changed her ways much since you left, still partying a decent amount and trying to find her match in Austin. You weren’t completely surprised that she was leaving your parents’ house, but something told you it wasn’t a decision she’d made on her own.

“Jack and I decided last week,” she continued, and you held your breath. You met Jack once, the last time you were home for a holiday. You weren’t totally sold, but Anna was enamoured as anything, so you chalked it up to young love. “I told Mom and Dad last night, and they’re not thrilled, but…I have to do this, Liv.” You could hear the waver in her voice; you could feel it in your chest. “I have to get out of Austin now, like you did, or else I’m never gonna leave.”

Like you did.

You knew how she meant it, in that you’re my big sister and I look up to you way, and it made your heart ache in a simultaneously good and bad way.

“Where are you gonna go?” you asked, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Like, do you guys have a plan?”

“Jack said Colorado,” she answered, “but I thought maybe…” She paused, you could hear her sharp inhale. “I thought maybe Boston?”

When you didn’t answer right away, you could hear Anna panic, her words more and more rambling as she kept talking.

“I mean, only if that’s okay with you. I know it’s your city, and your place and you did this big thing and moved across the country, but I just—”

“Anna,” you called, cutting her off. “Of course, it’s okay with me. Having you closer? Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

You talked well past the end of your lunch hour. Anna tried to let you go more than once, but each time you told her no, it was okay, the excitement in her voice made you laugh. By the end of the call, you had an almost-plan. They wouldn’t move to Boston right away, but Anna would come for a visit, spend some good sister-time with you, and then Jack would come up for a weekend. You’d show them around the city, maybe scope out a few potential apartments, check some job listings. It was a start.

“I love you, Livvy,” she said as you said your goodbyes.

“Love you, too.”

And then it was the end.

+

Joel finds you in the master bedroom, bat on the ground beside you. You’re on all fours, ass in the air, trying to reach something under a chest of drawers. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, and waits until you’re safely clear of the wooden edge before letting out a low wolf whistle. “Now there’s a view.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, laughing quietly as you set your findings on top of the drawers, getting to your feet and dusting off your knees. “As if you don’t see it every day.”

“I do,” he replies, and crosses the room to you, adjusting the rifle over his shoulder. As soon as he’s close enough, he presses his front to your back, sliding his arms around your waist, hands curling around your thighs. “S’like I’m seein’ it for the first time, every time.” You laugh again, and he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your skin, tasting the sweat on your skin. “What’re you doin’ up here?”

You sigh, pointing towards the object you’d unearthed from under the drawers. “It’s a jewellery box, I think. Miracle someone didn’t take it.”

“More rings for your collection?”

Your nose wrinkles and you reach for the box, flipping the lid open. You both suck in breaths when you see the contents, more gold than either of you have ever seen in one place before. There are rings, earrings, a necklace with a diamond the size of your thumbnail. Joel picks up the pendant, rubs his thumb over the jewel.

“Fuckin’ crazy, isn’t it,” he grumbles, and you lean back against him, both of you inspecting the bauble, “how none of this shit is worth anything anymore.”

His eyes dip as you reach into your shirt, pinching the chain around your neck until your ring pops out of your collar. “This is worth something to me.”

Joel’s jaw drops, that awful feeling of shoving his foot directly into his mouth making his stomach twist. “Baby, I didn’t me—”

“I know,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “I just…I was trying to find you a ring, okay? None of the ones I have back at the apartment feel right, so I thought maybe there’d be something…” You trail off, stepping out of his grip and shoving your hand through your hair. “It’s fucking morbid, isn’t it? Wearing someone else’s wedding band? But you found me this one, and it’s mine, no one else’s, and I just…” Shaking your head, Joel can see the tears lining your lashes, and he realizes there’s something more going on here, not just the ring.

“Liv,” he says softly, reaching his hand out, moving slowly, tentatively, until he can wrap his fingers around your shoulder. “I don’t need one, baby. I have you, that’s all I care about.”

You tilt your head back, reaching up and wiping at your wet eyes. “Me, and an official FEDRA document stating that I’m legally your problem.”

Joel smiles, a broad grin that he can feel stretching across his mouth before he can stop it. He doesn’t miss the way your face changes as he grins, your brows raising slightly, your eyes going brighter. “Oh, baby,” he chuckles, putting both arms around you, dipping his head so he can nudge your nose with his. “You’ve been my problem since 2001.”

He gives you a soft kiss, but you pull back after a moment, half-hearted anger in your face. “Hey!”

“My favourite problem,” he laughs, and you’re both giggling now, quick kisses traded while you slide your hands up the sides of his shirt, pinching his ribs and making him flinch. “Oh, you’re trouble.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Always have been.” 

Joel shakes his head at you and just kisses you again.

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just trying to make sure tumblr doesn’t eat the ending 🍓

[sillyguy99]

There is no fear in love

(Mafiafell Sans x Reader)

Chapter One: Rude Awakening

[Index | Next]

Notice:

(The reader has a nun name, meaning: a holy name given to be used by others in place of a real name, such as “Sister Magdalene” instead of just “(Y/N)”, in this specific case.)

(Also, if this work seems familiar, that is because this is the definitive version of Pray that you will not fall into temptation, since I merged various, similar plot ideas for a Mafiafell fic into one, in order to make the story more fleshed out + provide more consistent, weekly updates!)

• • • • •

       "Mom!"

       The watering can falls from your hand at the sound of that voice. It clatters and the little water left splashes your shoes as it hits the rocky floor, yet you can't care less about picking it up when you see Frisk running towards you, their arms outstretched, smile radiant, and eyes glossy. You push yourself off the ground, though with struggle as your legs shake and give in from anticipation. It takes a few more seconds of stumbling until you're finally able to stand up straight, and – by the time you do – they're already in your arms, their light weight barely making you budge regardless of your current, weak self. Everything around you: the garden, the fountain, the picnic table, and even your own body feel unearthly, and you're certain it'll all end the moment you take too long to blink.

       "Words can't describe how much I've missed you, dear," you state, almost in a whisper when you fail to raise your voice, sorrow making it difficult to do without breaking.

       You hug Frisk as tight as the knot on your chest. Tears rush down, staining your arms until you hide your face against their shoulder and squeeze all your distress away. They feel fragile in your grasp, and fleeting, too – like letting go will cause them to crumble, then disappear. As much as you don't want to, you still begin to loosen up bit by bit until your embrace is a gentler touch, almost ghostly. Then, you pull back and wipe your face with a handkerchief you retrieve from your pocket, and offer your child another when you notice they're in a similar state, although not as bad as your own. Even if it isn't real, the last thing you wish is to let them see you somber. That's about the least you can do to make up for how many faults you've found while analyzing the reasons they went missing under your care.

       "hey, kid. where'd ya run off to? ya can't just-"

       Your arms act instinctively at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, these wrapping firm around Frisk again, like a snake with a hamster, minus the intent to cause any harm.

       "oh."

       The person behind that voice stands at the entrance of the garden, and – while you try your best not to – your mind ends up jumping to negative conclusions when you see just what type of monster he is.

       "Stay back!" Fearing the dream has become a nightmare, you close your eyes and squeeze Frisk harder, yet you soon loosen when they gasp for a breath. "And state your reason for visiting first."

       "well…"

       You hear footsteps, but you refuse to look at him.

       "i'm sans, one of your kid's friends from the underground," he says. "frisk told us they couldn't stay with tori, since they've got another mom up here, and now here i am. they gave me your address, we gathered some info to make sure you were still around, and then i drove us here. the rest of the convent interrogated me before they told me to go straight to the garden, so you can ask 'em if you're suspicious." There's a brief spell of peace and quiet as you hear him debate about something with himself. "sorry if this's kinda nosy, but…" There's a long pause in his words. "how does that work, exactly? you havin' a kid, i mean. aren't nuns supposed to be married to, uh, god, and not, well… a husband?"

       You scoff and feel your face form a glower on its own. "I'm not married, and Frisk isn't my biological child, though… I don't really see that detail as relevant to my love for them." Your fingers bury into Frisk's hair as you stroke their bangs away and kiss their forehead. "It matters not whether they're biologically mine."

       They shift, kiss your cheek, and push you aside, then tug at your sleeve persistently, insisting without a word for you to address the elephant in the room.

       You sigh, breathe back in, and open your eyes.

       It's impossible not to flinch when you take a better look at the monster: far less daunting than you were expecting, but still the most unnatural thing you've witnessed since having to interfere with a violent human at the front of the orphanage. The skeleton wears a black suit with hints of red, and the grin he carries appears shielded with dishonesty, contrasting with his direct and unwavering stare. Though the feeling of uneasiness differs from peering into the eyes of someone who has no fear of taking a life away, gazing into his irises still brings about uncertainty. You can't digest how detailed his body is, and how what little bones are exposed from his suit move in sync with each step he takes. It's like watching the most realistic, computer-generated creature in the real world rather than in film. What makes it a chilling experience is that he's actively acknowledging your presence, and that his irises follow your movements as you dust your clothes and fix yourself up after the messy hug. 

       He's not much taller than you or even Frisk, and yet...

       You feel small, and how broad his body seems contributes to that.

"They had gone missing three months ago, and I…" You bring your hands together and bite back another tear, then face the ground to avoid meeting with what looks like Death, but formally dressed. "I can't express how much I grieved over their disappearance." Momentary courage allows you to look at him directly. "Who are you to my child? And… Who is this 'Tori' person?"

       A chilly breeze of awareness arrives when you unclasp your hands and stare at your palms to see traces of soil smeared on your skin, most of it you believe is now wiped off on Frisk's attire.

       "Frisk!" you exclaim, eyes broadening as you look next to you. "I forgot I-"

       They're already standing in front of the skeleton, with their arms fully extended as they wait while he searches through his suitcase.

       He retrieves a full set of clothes, a hair pin, and a stuffed teddy bear, then pats their head before they run off inside the church.

       If you were jumpy before – even with the company of Frisk – now being alone with the skeleton leads to your body turning awfully rigid, and for a stiffer silence to build up between you.

       "do ya have some time to spare, miss?" he asks, zipping the suitcase closed and throwing it over his shoulder. "i needa talk to ya 'bout Frisk."

       This has to be a dream, at least.

       There's no way you're staring at a breathing, moving, talking skeleton who'd somehow been left in charge of sending Frisk off towards you.

       You should've known today wasn't real since the local news announced that a large crowd of monsters of all shapes and kinds had emerged from the Underground, like some sort of Halloween Horror film.

       "It's my first time seeing them in months," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. "Of course, I do!" You stare at your hands again. "But... Could you allow me a minute to wash up?" Then, you glance at your uniform. "I've been gardening since early morning."

       Whether this is all a dream or a nightmare, you should at least look presentable for either outcome.

       "sure." He shrugs. "take your time."

 • • • • •

       You throw half a strawberry at a bird in your garden, lured by the sweet scents of the food you've set up on the table.

       It flies off back into a tree when it picks up the treat, and – when you're positive there's no other hungry animal waiting nearby – you throw the other half on the flowers and watch as the leaves rustle and stop when reaching the spot.

       Your next chore is to wash your hands by the faucet near the garden and continue setting up the rest of the table when you return.

       "ya know," Sans says, sitting on the chair you gesture him over to. "from what frisk told me about you, i was kinda expectin' a lady older than tori herself."

       You finish pouring tea to look at him and lift an eyebrow. "Pardon?" 

       Although left without an answer, you push on by arranging some shortbread cookies and thinly sliced fruit on a pair of ceramic plates while you wait for him to say something.

       He's observing your every move, and there's a limit to how much of that you can tolerate, but fear causes you to keep your mouth shut and carry on.

       "and it makes a lotta sense."

       "...Care to elaborate, sir?"

       Still being out in the garden is what has kept you sane this whole time. Were you in an enclosed space with the skeleton, you wouldn't have lasted a second. There's just something wrong about looking at him and being aware he's a living creature – that he has a human's level of intelligence, and that he's judging you for acting like an old lady in spite of being in your twenties. You want this to end, yet if this is your punishment for not being a good enough mother, then you're bound to push on. You just have to be patient. And you just have to try not to… widen your eyes every occasion you figure out anything new about him. The basics – while covered – are already overwhelming on their own, but actually seeing him laugh and joke around like any other human drives you mad.

       "you're makin' me tea, servin' me cookies, insistin' ya do every little thin' yourself," he says, touching a finger from his right hand with his left index finger for each observation he lists, "you're good with birds – probably other animals, too, and you're wearin' a type of dress only someone over her sixties would wear," he remarks, unwinding with a breath out when he shows all those statements take up his entire hand, "that's already five things, and i'm barely just gettin' to know ya. when did ya start out as a nun, anyway?"

       Porcelain and ceramic clink as you set what's now unneeded away and leave only the cookies, fruit, tea, and communion items out on the table.

       "Since my eighteenth birthday. It's been thirteen years."

       You prepare the communion, first by setting aside a piece of sacramental bread, and then a small portion of grape wine in a paper cup.

       "whoa." He whistles. "since that early?"

       You ignore his comments while you finish setting everything else up, the last thing being to bless both the food and the communion. You then stand up, pick up the tray with the bread and wine, and offer it to him. How fast your heart races makes it so that your fingers shake as you grab the bread.

       "Open your, um…" You frown. "How does your skull work?"

       "you can touch, if you wanna."

       Your eyes glue to his face, and inordinate curiosity fights with basic decency. He's a stranger, and yet he's being as casual as you would expect an old friend to be. You want to ask him to stop – that his existence alone as a skeleton is still something you're barely getting adjusted to, but common sense and more than enough years of your work in the convent have taught you better than that. Just as you're adjusting to him, he's likely doing with you and Frisk. Expecting him to act all formal would be rude, as would be him asking you to be casual around him. That's for friends, not strangers. Though if this really isn't some sort of Telephone game version of the classic Alice in Wonderland tale, then you hope you can both get used to one another later on.

       "I shouldn't." Your gaze stays on his face. "But, then again…"

       He chuckles, and his irises lighten up, something you've now associated with him being either happy or amused.

       "Are you sure?"

       "go wild."

       You touch his cheekbone and press your thumb against it. The texture's similar to semi-hardened clay, and you leave a mark on his skull, though it fades after a few seconds. Worry stays at the thought of hurting him, so you brush your fingers at that spot again, softer this time. 

       "That's…" You pull back. "That's... interesting?"

       He winks. "and you're great at describing it."

       You stay quiet and shake your head, at a loss for words for what you feel to be the third occasion today – and it's still only one in the afternoon!

       His teeth part as you move on to what you were doing. Despite physical contact, your heart's calmed down more, and you can stare at him for longer without questioning reality and science. With a long and steady breath, plus the reminder to keep calm, you pick up the bread again and drop it on…

       …his tongue (?), then watch as he chews it and passes it down with the wine.

       This is normal.

       You're not delusional.

       And the news report is completely legitimate.

       What you have to do is convince yourself to believe all that.

       "thanks for sharing a part of your world with me." He grins. "and for the blessin', too."

       "It's not much, sir." You smile. "I'm... only thankful you've brought Frisk here, safe and sound."

       His expression glooms on par with his posture. 

       Meanwhile, you set the tray back down and sit on the bench across from him.

       The garden feels too calm now, as if nature itself has sensed the monster's shift in mood. You're tempted to ask him directly about what's brought about such a sudden change, yet you know you're in no place to do that. Frisk is sleeping off the exhaustion from their journey in the security of their bedroom, meaning that asking them to do it is completely out of the question – not to mention, you don't want them to do the work for you, nor impose anything as complicated as this on them. Growing restless, you pick up a cookie from your plate and munch on it during your wait. The amount of time that passes on is sufficient for you to eat two more, and even drink your first cup of tea.

       "uh, yeah…" he says, mumbling. "'bout that…"

       His gaze lifts from the grass to your eyes. 

       "frisk might've technically... died a few times during their journey through the underground. the only reason they're still alive is cuz of how things worked down there. didn't wanna pull that sorta bandage off so quickly, but i figured you should know this first before they tell ya about their experiences."

       "...Wh- What?" you snap, standing up. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

       "afraid it isn't."

       The last thing you can register as anger overcomes your heart is the sound of the tea cup hitting the ground with a crash, sending shards flying across the floor.

       You march off towards him, stand in front, and point at the door leading out of the garden.

       "Get the hell out of my church, you sick-minded beast!"

       "please, let me explai-"

       "Get. Out."

       All you see is red as you lunge at the monster and grab him by his shirt's collar, lifting him off the chair.

       Him weighing no more than Frisk allows you to take him to the nearest wall and slam him against it.

       "...A bandage?" You cackle, disbelief manifesting through the noise. He doesn't struggle, so you pick that up as a sign for you to tug at him harder. "My child died, and you call that ripping off a mere bandage?" You press yourself against him when he starts to shift.

       "there's more i-"

       You cut him off again by tugging his tie along with the rest of his shirt.

       "Shut up," you shout. "If this is a nightmare, you're more than welcome to disappear and let me go back to sleep. I... I want you out of my damn sight the second I release you!"

[Index | Next]

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@itsberrydreemurstuff

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Resistance AU: Healer and Handler, co-author @whump-sprite

Who [ First | Prev ]

The overnight footage from Alex’s cell – and the whole block – has been deleted.

“System update fucked up the datetime on the cameras,” Peterson claims. “The rolling store got cleared early. Nothing I can do.”

It's absolute bullshit of course. Nowhere else in the facility was affected. But Peterson isn’t budging, and if the footage is somehow hidden rather than deleted outright, Ari doesn’t have the tech know how to find it.

She files an incident report for misuse of electronic resources. But unless Peterson's pulled this shit before she knows he won't get more than a slap on the wrist. Even if they don't swallow his “system update” story, he’ll say it was just a fuck-up and they’ll believe that.

She only has three suspects. She can't imagine any of those creeps putting a stooge up to it – there’s no way they’d miss out on the personal satisfaction.

So Ari spends about an hour – in between monitoring the live feeds and answering calls – trawling the recording from the closest untouched cameras, taking note of who enters and leaves the dead zone and when. Going by the blood on the floor this morning, the incident probably happened earlier in the night rather than later, but that’s not a lot to narrow it down by.

Unfortunately it turns out Frazier and Henson were both working last night. It shouldn’t be surprising, they probably talked each other into this petty little show of spite. Ari’s reminded of the time Riven spent a month stealing the ink out of one of the printers just to get under that one analyst’s skin.

She files another report, this one against Frazier. He's not supposed to have access to the healers anymore. But this isn't the first time she’s reported the same damn thing. They'll revoke his clearance, again, and in a few weeks he'll find another excuse to get someone to reinstate it. Probably Peterson again, the little rat bastard.

Probably not Peterson, she doesn't actually think he has that authority. It's just easy to be angry at his stupid smarmy face right now.

Frazier or Henson. 50-50 odds, but if she confronts the wrong one, she’ll look like an idiot. Better to be sure.

She might be able to get the answer out of Riven, he does like to run his mouth. But not today, because Frazier and Henson will still be asleep at home and they probably won’t have filled Riven in on their little ”prank” yet.

Back to Plan A, then.

She takes the time to pick up a plate of cafeteria food for Alex's afternoon meal. It'll be lukewarm by the time she gets it down to the cells, but it’s still better than his usual fare.

She hears the healer jump at the sound of the door. Sounds like he knocked a knee or elbow against the wall or floor. Hopefully not his head. He’s scrambling to get on his knees as she lets herself in.

He’d gotten less scared about that. Ariadne’s never punished him for being slow to get up, or even for skipping the formalities. But it’s no surprise he’s more hasty again with fresh stripes as a painful reminder of proper discipline.

Even though it wasn’t discipline.

“Easy,” she greets him, “it’s just your dinner.” She’s pleased to see his eyes widen with anticipation as he sees what she has for him. He’s not so miserable that he can’t be happy about a decent meal.

He reaches for his hot water first, like always. If she can convince them to change one thing about standard protocol it should be that – or turning the thermostat for the cells up. More heat getting into the healers, one way or another.

She forgot to pick up his sweater from the corner of his cell this morning. She was going to get rid of it, but Alex has struggled back into it despite the dried blood and the rents in the back and despite how much it must have pulled his back getting it on. Ariadne ought to take it off him – it’s going to start stinking soon – but she can’t quite bring herself to. Not while he’s eating.

It was only a couple of months ago she had to hold every bite to his mouth. He’d twitch at everything she said, and he could barely get a flicker of magic out without flinching and choking on fear. He’s doing so well for her. All it took was a bit of a gentler touch.

“I need to know which of them came in here and whipped you.” Terror is immediately stark in his eyes. “I won’t tell them you told me. I’ll tell them I got it out of security, okay? But I need to know. So that I can keep it from happening again.”

He doesn’t trust her. She sees it in his eyes. He doesn’t believe she has any interest in stopping them. Frustration itches, but she pushes it down. It’s a lot more to ask of him than trusting her to let him shower without raping him. He’s still doing well.

“This isn’t negotiable,” she prompts. It only takes the faintest hint of steel to make him flinch. “I’m s-s-sorry –” “I know. I’m not mad – not at you. But I need to know.”

He shrinks in on himself. Patience, Ari cautions herself. Her steady attention and expectation is enough. He’s just scared.

“N-Neil,” he whispers eventually. “I-I mean, F-Frazier, sir.” “Okay,” Ariadne agrees levelly, “Good. Well done.”

She makes herself take a deep breath and turn away from Alex so that he knows it’s not directed at him before she lets herself exhale anger.

“Jealous fucking creep. What a petty, insecure dipshit of a guy.” Alex looks shocked. But there’s something else too, something that could be appreciation or even humour just about edging out the fear. “I’d kick his teeth in if I had the chance,” Ariadne confides with a hint of a hard, conspiratorial smirk. Alex almost, almost smiles back. “I’d…” he starts, but he doesn’t finish the thought.

Ari grins at him anyway, just for a second before she turns serious again. “I will not be telling him that you told me,” she promises, “so don’t you go fessing up, okay? They don’t record audio from these cells, so it’s between you and me.”

The healer looks nervous, but he nods his head. “Okay, sir.”

She’s about to leave him when she remembers about the sweater. It's probably unsalvageable, but…

She crouches beside him and takes the hem to get a better look. As she thought, the blood’s the least of the damage. The fabric is practically shredded, not worth mending even if she was inclined to, which she isn't. Darning a healer's clothes would be ridiculous.

“I’m – sorry sir.” Alex’s voice is suddenly choked, giving away the tears in his eyes. “I – I didn’t have time t-to take it off…” “Hey. It’s okay.” “I would’ve – I d-didn’t want to ruin it but he didn’t –” “It’s not your fault. Hey, listen to me. I’ll get you a new one. It’s no big deal.” His throat bobs as he tries to swallow his tears. “Thank you, sir,” he manages. “I’ll get you a new one,” Ari repeats. “It’s okay.”

She can’t even pat his shoulder. Fucking dipshit Neil. She pats the healer's head instead. His curls are starting to grow in again. He sniffs, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

When she leaves, Ari’s careful to close the door softly. She changes the code on the lock again. Frazier’s clearly getting his buddies in security to sort it for him, but it’ll slow him down. It’s an obstacle in his way. And if he’s going to be fucking petty, two can play at that game.

Finding Frazier's shift pattern is a little more work than finding Henson’s. He's on nights all week, so Ariadne could catch him tonight by staying late. She doesn't much feel like rising to the bait though, not when she has nothing to use against him and it'd only be giving him the opportunity to gloat.

Before she goes home, she spends another while crawling the security feeds, trying to figure out the options that she doesn't usually have any reason to use.

If she knew how to have the cell footage make a second copy of itself or something, somewhere those assholes couldn't wipe it… but it would probably be an infosec breach if she did.

She'll find something. Frazier clearly doesn't realize what thin ice he's on after the last round of allegations. He doesn't get to mess with Ari's healer.