#no I will probably not ever play dominoes again

[fleurriee]

— stress reliever ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; your mate never took to stress well - but you couldn’t deny that it was a good look on him. so, when he comes home with a weight on his shoulders, you allow him to take it out on you.

word count ; 2.5k

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: dom!neteyam, scenting, pussy playing, p in v, let me know if there’s anything else..?

author’s note ; i really don’t know how i feel about this... but we’re gonna role with it. it got quite fluffy at the end bc this is still neteyam we’re talking about & that beautiful boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.

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Crouched against the floor, you hummed a quiet tune to yourself - your songcord created by yourself, waiting for more words added on with each achievement in your life. Your hands worked tenderly against the objects you were rearranging in front of you, originally believing that it was time for a new look within your tent. 

There wasn’t much else for you to do, after all - you’d prepared your dinner for that night, all it now needed was the heat from the awaiting fire; you’d spent a good amount of time with both Kiri and Tuk, the former wanting your presence next to you as she worked with her grandmother, and the latter wanting you to play whatever she randomly wanted to on that day. You didn’t mind spending your day with little random bits like this, because it was nice to not have to stress over so much weighing down upon your shoulders... unlike your mate.

Several times since moving in together, Neteyam had come home stressed out of his mind - whether it was from the actions of that day, or any upcoming day, it didn’t matter. Neteyam always took everyone’s blame as the older brother, wanting the rest of the clan to see that he would make a good Olo’eyktan one day. And, despite the way he hated the feeling of being distressed, he continued to do it. 

You only hoped today he’d come home happier. 

You were just finishing the end of your songcord, about to start it over again when you heard pounding footsteps from behind you. Turning around, you watched as your mate stormed through the entrance of your tent, hands clenched at his sides and brows furrowed in clear anger. He was mumbling and grumbling under his breath, shaking his head side to side and eyes casted down as you could only hear fucking Lo’ak escape his laboured breathing.

Neteyam had spent the day with the war party, helping his father train the younger hunters for the moment they’d be taking on more challenging tasks to help protect the clan. By both his actions and the cursing of his younger brother, you could only guess that Lo’ak had done something stupid, therefore causing everything else to fall like dominoes, and there was no doubt in your mind Neteyam probably took the blame. 

With your ears high on your head, you moved slowly as you stood up, disregarding your previous task and walking calmly over towards him. “Neteyam?” you questioned, voice soft so as not to startle him too much. You knew he’d never hurt you - he’d rather die before he ever thought about hurting you - but you knew he could set himself off, not wanting to him to spiral down a rabbit hole of despair. “Ma ‘teyam, is everything-”

Your words were cut off so abruptly that you felt the breath hitch in your throat, your legs suddenly leaving the ground as a gasp emanated from your lips. Warm, rough hands grasped themselves against the backs of your thighs, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you close to his chest. He squeezed your soft flesh, your arms holding tightly onto your mate’s shoulders as you stayed suspended in the air. 

In one swift movement, Neteyam had mercilessly untied the knots of your loincloth, movements hurried and fervent, before throwing the material somewhere unknown within your tent to the both of you, without a care for its disregard. At his actions, you couldn’t help the tightening within your core. 

“Need you, my yawne (beloved),” his voice rasped, forcing his head between the junction of your neck and shoulder, leaving teasing bites against your skin. “So fucking stressed, need your body - need your pussy.”

You felt your heat clench around nothing when his rushed words left his mouth and into the warmth of your skin. A whimper left your mouth as his hands squeezed your thighs again, leaving a lingering slap against your cheek. 

“Do you want me to take it out on you?” he questioned harshly, voice low in the back of his throat, sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you senseless, let me fuck all my anger into you?”

A whine, loud and clear, tore through the air, your body subconsciously moving closer to his own, grinding against his abs for some friction. You were so desperate for him, so needy for him, that you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, mind so foggy, lustful, and full of him.

He left another harsh slap against your ass, rubbing his head further into your neck as he drowned himself in your scent, allowing his own to pore into you, too. “Need you to use your words, my muntxa (mate).”

Swallowing carefully, you attempted to collect your words. You nod your head, your legs tightening around him. “Ye-yes, ma ‘teyam. Please.”

He brought one of his hands around, snaking its way in between your unbelievably close bodies, keeping you firmly in place with just his another one. You could feel his fingers dance teasingly as they lowered further and further down, gasping loudly when you felt the sensation of his cold fingers against your warmth. Neteyam began to rub gentle circles, eliciting a hiss from you, a smirk bubbling up in his throat at your reaction, tail curling around your ankle.

“What do you want, narlor (beautiful)?” His fingers continued their painfully slow pace, knowing that it would drive you over the edge and have you begging - exactly what he wanted. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You were quick with your words, desperate, lusting for more, for all of him. “You, ‘teyam,” you breath out softly, rubbing your cheek against the top of his head, somehow bringing him all the more closer. “I want you to fuck me.”

A chuckle painted tight against your skin sent you shivering, his fingers moving away from your core and leaving you whimpering at the loss of contact. He loved the way you submitted to him so easily, giving him exactly what he wanted - he loved to hear you beg and plead for more.

He didn’t say anything else - he didn’t have to. In one swift movement, his own loincloth was lying on the floor, his eager and impatient emotions getting the better of him before his entire length was free, slapping softly against your lower stomach as it twitched in anticipation. 

The feeling of him being so close, yet too far had you grinding against him again, his cock rubbing against your skin. Your hands tightened around his neck, fingers cleaving at his hair and pulling. A groan tumbled into your ears at your actions, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the reaction you could garner from your mate. 

But, it was taken away from you the moment you had it. He roughly planted his lips against your own, moving forcefully as your teeth clashed and tongues fought for dominance in a messy show of love. Neteyam wasn’t typically dominant when it came to sex, rather just making love to you the way he knew best - but when he got stressed, he wanted complete and utter control over you. 

And, you loved giving it to him, giving all of you to do whatever he pleased, but you also enjoyed teasing him. You enjoyed making him work for it, pushing so close to the edge he was moments away from snapping, because you knew, in the end, he’d fuck you until you were stuttering, breathless mess.

Hands returning to gripping your ass, squeezing more harshly then ever to show off the power dynamic he was craving, he continued to kiss you, wanting you to lose your breath but have you begging for more. When you pulled away from one another, lips swollen and eyes hooded, Neteyam made sure to keep his attention solely on you when he slammed his lips into your own, forcefully pushing himself inside of you.

On a normal occasion, Neteyam would take his time with you, making sure you were well taken care of and ready for him before bothering with himself. It wasn’t like you needed it, however - since mating, the two of you had had sex too many times to count, too loved up and adoring of one another that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Now, you knew one another’s bodies like they were your own.

So, when Neteyam’s entire length pushed itself in you, completely bottoming out, a silent scream tore at your throat, eyes clasped shut, mouth agape and head hung back at how good it felt. You were sure there was nothing better in the entire world than the feeling of having Neteyam inside you, the warmth that blistered your body inside and out, the feeling of being full. You loved it.

Neteyam wasted no time in his movements, moving at full speed and not giving you a chance to adjust. He was angry, pent-up emotions getting the better of him as his eyes glazed over and all he could think about was fucking you senseless. He kept his grip firm on you, jaw clenched and eyes hardened as he watched your every reaction. 

With his cock kissing your cervix so intensely, you tightened your entire body around him, arms and legs moving yourself impossibly closer to him. Lewd noises filled up your tent, the mixture of Neteyam’s grunts, your moans, and your wetness beginning to gush out on your mate’s cock combining together as one, you were sure the whole clan could hear.

But, you found yourself not caring. You almost wanted people to hear - wanted them to know how good your mate treated you, how good he made you feel. You wanted them to know you were entirely his.

Another low grunt fell from Neteyam’s lips, his head beginning to fall back and eyes screwing shut at the pure bliss and pleasure consuming him. He loved the feeling of your body clawing closer to his, loved the feeling of your head burying into the crook of his neck as you whimpered lovingly, the sound music to his ears. 

Everything was becoming too much - you could feel yourself reaching closer and closer to the edge, whining submissively for more. “Nete-” you stuttered, not quite getting the correct words out, mind foggy and hazy. “Neteyam.” A guttural moan pierced through the atmosphere alongside his name, the two sounds coming together as he started to hit a specific part inside of you, spongy and warm and perfect. 

Neteyam forced his head forwards again as he continued pounding relentlessly into you, one hand grabbing the back of your hair and pulling it back so your faces were in front of one another, noses touching and breaths mingling. You were a panting mess, words jumbled and unsure - obvious signs that you were close to cumming. 

“You want to cum, my muntxa (mate)?” he asked, mouth wide open as he whispered the words into your own gaping mouth. Little whines were his only response, the sound sending warmth to both his heart and to his cock. “Hmm? You want to cum all over my cock?”

His words sent vibrations running through your entire system, from the bottoms of your toes all the way to your mind, your thoughts running wild. You could feel your tail beginning to shiver, too, another sign that the pleasure you were experiencing was too good, that you were close.

You nodded pathetically at his questions, desperate for him to give you exactly what you wanted. There was a brief moment where you wondered whether he’d stop so suddenly, ripping you away from your orgasm and making you start all over again just because he could. But, his anger was so prevalent, so built-up inside of him that he didn’t have the energy to be doing that - he just wanted to feel you as you let yourself go all over him like the good girl you were.

Your nod and whines were enough of an answer for him. “Then, cum,” he demanded, teeth gritting sharply and fangs pointing menacingly as he picked up speed, his balls slapping against your folds, willing you to cum. “Cum, my muntxa (mate).”

In an instant, you were completely sent over the edge, all mushy and whimpering and shaking as you came down form your high. You could feel Neteyam’s own release filling up your insides, too, painting your walls and swallowing his gravelly moan. His pounding didn’t stop, but it did cease, ensuring that you were both fully satisfied and his cum stayed inside of you exactly where it belonged.

With slow movements, you continued to pant into his mouth, lips messily attempting to kiss one another, sweaty foreheads coming in contact as you rubbed your noses together. The silence that ensued was welcoming, comforting, just the sounds of your aftermath and the scent of the two of you lingering against one another - heaven.

Neteyam continued to hold you in his arms, making sure you were safe in his grasp but softening his hold. He began to caress your skin lovingly, placing a tender kiss against your lips. You found your head leaning more towards his own once he pulled away, not wanting him to part so soon. “Are you okay?” he questioned, the fast-paced situation finally catching up to him. “I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

A blissful smile played at your lips, loving how he could switch from two different types of dominant in the matter of seconds - fucking you until your thoughts were filled of nothing but his cock, and making sure you were safe and rightfully cared for. Your eyes were still hooded and clouded when you responded, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “No, you were perfect.” Unwrapping one of your hands from around his neck, your cradled his jaw, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye. “Are you okay now?”

He chuckled at your question, understanding that you were insinuating to his stressed-out state when he first came home. Shaking his head, he smiled down at you adoringly. “Much better now, thanks to you.” He noticed your unsure expression, knowing how you’d rather him talk about his problems to you so he wasn’t keeping them entirely to himself. To ease you, he continued to rub your noses together, basking in your euphoric scent. “I’ll tell you about it later... right now, I just want you.”

Still snuggled in his arms, you allowed him to walk the two of you over to your mat in the corner, sitting down first so you could lay comfortably on top of him. The sensation of still having his cock stuffed inside your walls was warming to you, keeping your hands securely around his neck and burying you head further into his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. 

It wasn’t long until you were flat-out, your intimate actions having completely exhausted you. Neteyam stayed awake for a little longer, listening to your comforting breathing as the stress dispersed from his body entirely. There wasn’t anything better than being with you - in any way possible, he wasn’t picky - your demeanour having the wonderful ability to soothe him, to bring him back down to earth. 

Neteyam couldn’t have asked for a better mate - and he thanked Ewya everyday for blessing him with you. 

#𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐑’s work ── ✎ #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam sully x female reader #neteyam sully x fem reader

[thearchercore]

wdym they barely interacted before mid-2023 ?? I just joined in this season and the amount of moments they have had me thinking they were besties for years please I'm??

brb gonna touch grass

let's have a lookback at how things looked before mid-2023.

did they interact? sure. they did, but usually the interactions were like... one moment per grand prix. sometimes nothing happened at all. and we have to remember (from what they told us), they did not like each other when they were karting very much, then they were friendly, then austria 2019 happened and they had a falling out and then slowly started talking again. this post-unfollowgate timeline gave us some funny moments of max just trying anything to talk to charles (asking him if the singapore flag, in singapore, was the monagesque one, or when he stopped charles to ask about weather awkwardly in the middle of the paddock).

or just look at this clip from hungary 2021:

clearly, they weren't in the "one austria away from restraining order" mood anymore, but they were awkward and didn't really know how to approach each other with the history they had.

fast forward to 2023, they seemed to get closer but still, they weren't exactly the best of friends and that awkward tension they always had was still around. that seemed to change around the time the infamous padeldate picture dropped. i remember dming my friend "MAX AND CHARLES HUNG OUT OUTSIDE OF WORK" because it was such a big deal. they haven't really done it before. it was an event organised by charles' agency (ran by his brother) and max was the only other f1 driver invited.

that event caused an insane domino effect of them constantly interracting, mentioning each other, clearly being much friendlier and comfortable around each other than ever before. their weird awkward tension was suddenly gone. we know from this time charles was in contract talks with ferrari and also worked on a possible back up plan of going to red bull if things at ferrari went extremely downhill (the infamous "verstappen did not veto the idea of leclerc as an teammate" article) so it's clear around that time they got closer and they did discuss the possibility of being teammates in the future.

this probably got them unlock this huge pandora box of the issues they had in the past that they never openly discussed.

fast forward to 2024, max and charles interact more than ever - max mentioning charles unprompted on numerous occassions, "we get along really well now, but back then we didn't," them hanging out outside of work and playing padel as teammates, max finishing charles' sentences in press conferences.... even their debriefs weren't that intense back then but now they're YAPPING.

we're only 2 races in and probably have more interactions between them than in like.. 2020-2021 already.

a lot of new fans joined during the era when they were already friends but i think it's always good to remind ourselves the journey that makes their dynamic so compelling, they did not always get along that well. they were never THIS friendly with each other. they happened to grow very fond of one another over time and, to quote charles they have joint "memories that were bad but got really good with time."

were they always weirdly obsessed with one another? yes. but were they ever this pathetic and close? no.

what we're seeing now is a complete 180 and we have to remember, they are drivers first. they will always put themselves and their teams first because that's what this sport is about.

the fact that they were never teammates and have this strong dynamic together speaks volumes.

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen

[netherfeildren]

With Mercy for the Disturbed

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: He's a father and then he isn't, and then he's in the perfect place with the perfect girl, and he's done so many bad things that terrify the both of them. And then, finally, he's saved and there are dancing bears and doors newly opened, and everyone's a little mad at the end of it all.

-OR-

the Hannibal/Alice in Wonderland AU wherein Joel loses his mind

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: AU; Extremely Dubious Consent; Or Non Con; You decide but vibes are definitely off; Dark Fic; Rough Sex; Face fucking; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Bondage; Unreliable Narrator; Memory loss; Blasphemy; Discussions of religious disdain; Discussions of morality; References to suicide; Beware of the old man who’s crazy and lets all his intrusive thoughts win; Older man/Younger woman; Creampie; Light breeding kink; Like very light for the likes of me promise; Possessive Behavior; Kidnapping; Joel POV

A/N: Hello and hallelujah, I’m so happy to be posting this!! For a minute after I finished Pink I felt like it would be impossible for me to write anything else ever again, and felt so weird and without anything left to say.  I struggled so much just getting these words down, and it was supposed to be something very different initially compared to what it turned out to be, but I think I quite like the final product. I hope you do too. 

And one million kisses and thank yous and all the praise in the world to @frannyzooey for giving this a little looksy over before posting. You’re the greatest and the bestest, Kelli, thank you so so much :)

Please heed the tags carefully and err on the side of caution!!! The goings on in this are very strange and this is probably the darkest thing I’ve written to date. 

Word Count: 8.8K

Read on AO3

He can’t remember her name anymore, but he remembers the number. It’s been seven hundred and thirty eight days since his daughter died. 

Sometimes, he’s not sure if he even remembers his own name. He thinks it’s Joel, and the sound of it brings him comfort in a way, when it’s especially dark and confusing in his mind, and so he tells himself over and over again that that’s what it is. Joel. Joel. Joel. I am Joel. That that’s what it’s always been. That that’s the name she knew him as. 

Sometimes you call him that too.

He used to be a father, and then one day, so suddenly he can’t recall how it even happened, he lost everything. Like dominos falling over in his mind – the girl, and then his memories and then the man with the face like his. He plays dominos all the time now. 

In his spot in the sun in the big blue room, wearing his whites and his soft socks and taking the pills they force down his throat. He plays dominos, and he does his exercises, and he thinks of that daughter whose name he can’t remember. He says his own name over and over and over again so many times until it’s not even a sound anymore, only a buzz or a hum or a scream. 

His beard is thick and his hair is long, and he does not recognize his own face in the mirror. All he sees are ghost green eyes and dark hair and a fathomless sort of failure. A father, no longer a father. He goes for walks in the garden, he eats the food they give him even when he doesn’t really want to, even when it tastes like ash or greater madness than the one he’s already swallowed. And he waits for you. All the time he waits for you to come to him, he watches the big doors that go out into the world he’s too frightened and broken to step foot in now, draws his fingertip over the gristle of scar tissue at his temple mended over invisible fracture, and he waits and waits, and he says his name and he thinks of that nameless daughter and he waits and he thinks: the morning after I killed myself, I woke up in the perfect place with the perfect white walls and now all I do is wait. 

He sits in his chair in the corner now and counts the seconds for you to come for him. Always at this time, always when the sun is at that spot in the sky. When it rains, and he can't tell where he is in the world, and the clouds are swollen purple gray verging on melancholy and anger, he feels something like despairing. Something like the sort of insane they whisper he is behind his back now.

He watches the puddles filled with dark mercury grow and grow like the ocean rising out of concrete, and the orange tree that drips and weeps and sags and he thinks he feels very much that way inside too. Sometimes, when the sun shines and there are no clouds and he doesn’t feel so terribly downtrodden, or maybe worse than usual, each orange blossom opens like a hand reaching out for him. Begging him not to do it, not to think of it, not to go back to that bad place. Focus only on me, she says. Focus only on the blue walls and the perfect room and the place where the sun sits in the sky, she’s on her way, she’s almost here. 

The first time they’d told him he was ill – or dead – the first morning in the perfect room, he’d been angry, affronted or offended, and he’d howled and fought and said I’m not fucking crazy, it’s only that my daughter is dead. But as much as he’d fought or kicked or screamed, wept until he was brittle and dry as a whale bone, they’d not believed him. And so, he’d come to appreciate the peace of the perfection surrounding him, the perfection of a lie, or the perfection that comes to visit him in the shape of a woman, soft and round in all the right places and pretty. Fuckable. He tries not to think of it. He swears he does. But there’s little else to consider in the perfect place. So really, he thinks of little else. 

You’re almost here, he knows it’s almost time.

A few more moments of the sun in the place where it is until it’s in the place where it should be, and then you’ll be here, and he looks down at the stone in his palm, held for so long it’s turned dark with his sweat now. I shouldn’t have, but I brought you something, placed it in his hand, done that thing with your eyes and your mouth that told him secrets he wasn’t sure you were even aware you were telling him. 

He knows that it’s November now because you’d said it was, and he doesn’t know why, but when you’d told him, he’d wept and wept and wept. Become inconsolable which had sent you to worrying, put the different sort of look on your face, in your eyes, the one that vibrates, that screams instead of whispers. And he’s positive you don’t know you show him that one, but he sees it anyways, you’ve got a shit poker face. And he’d told you between sobs and chokes, it’s November and it’s terrible and I can’t explain why except to say that it’s as though the earth has suddenly realized that she’s grown old and cold and there’s nothin’ she can do to prevent it except weep, and I feel very much like this in my own heart too. And when he looks back up at the sun, it’s finally where it’s supposed to be, and when he looks back at the double doors that lead away to all his fears and all the bad, there you are. You walk towards him slow and measured, and you’re perfect, perfect, perfect. Precious, impeccable, absolutely exceptional in every way. He wants very much to ruin all that pure magnificence. 

He knows that he did something very bad after his daughter, after they took her, lots of very bad things to lots of very bad people. He knows this, he remembers this vividly, enjoys the memory of it, savors it like something sitting sweet and light on his tongue. 

The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love with the idea of a girl who was gone who’d come from me who is never going to be again. Who I never made enough time for when there was still time to be made.

You always wear beautiful clothes, and it makes him appreciate the blandness of his own. That you stand out, that he’s merely a blank canvas for you to inflict yourself on. Wool skirts and silk blouses and sheer pantyhose he wants to rip to ribbons with his fingers. Makes him appreciate the beauty of you, faultless, guileless. Sweet in a way he’d never witnessed before like a kitten that’s so adorable you want to squeeze and squeeze and smother until it bursts. Big eyes and a full, soft mouth and breathy voice, and then you’re right there.“Hi, Joel,” and yeah, that’s right, he does know his name, you remind him of it all the time.  

“Mornin’.”

“Ready?”

“As ever.”

The room you usually sit in to talk has a big painting of a field in it, a bear in the far off center up on its hind legs, somehow, appearing as if it’s dancing away. Even the paintings are mad here, but he likes it, wants to dance away into the far off unknown like that too. 

“The middle of the day’s not the best time for fishin’ usually.” Sometimes, you let him start where he wants. Silent until he chooses to break. He pulls the thought out of nowhere. “Bein’ out there’s just the excuse, I suspect, in the sun and the water.” 

He listens to the scratch, scratch of your pen. You write with one of those fountain types with the sharp point, and he wonders if you’ve ever considered how easily he could turn it into a weapon. How smoothly it’d pierce the soft, satin skin of your throat he likes to fantasize about. He would never. But he does like to think about it, pretends it’s a show of your trust, wonders if the guards and higher ups know you bring something like that in here with him. Scratch, scratch, scratch, and it makes his brain itch. 

“You used to fish?”

“Think so.”

“Are you remembering?”

“Nah.” The morning after I killed myself, I lost my memories – it’s only that they’d hurt everywhere I’d touched them, and so I’d had to let them go.

“No?” 

You’ve got the loveliest voice, and sometimes he wishes he could tell you to stop asking so many stupid questions about him and talk about yourself. Endlessly. He chooses a new route. “What is it about empathy that people find so difficult to be generous with?”

That soft hum in your throat he loves, the one he feels soothe that itchy brain of his. “Humans can be inherently selfish. We’re born with only ourselves, we die with only ourselves, sometimes that gets in our way.”

“No… Don’t think that’s true.”

“No?” He knows you like to lead him sometimes, like a game he doesn’t want to enjoy. “You’re the one saying we’re greedy with our empathy.”

“Forgiveness too,” he adds.

The click of your tongue, “Do you think you’re forgiving?”

“Not at all.”

Scratch, scratch. Once he’d asked what it is you write about him during these talks of yours, and all you’d said was notes. It’s the only time he’s ever been angry with you, refused to talk to you for three days after that. Only because if you wouldn’t tell him things, then he wasn’t going to tell you anything either. “Then what’s the point you’re trying to make? What’s your question?” But then he’d missed the sound of your voice too much, had felt the burn of your gaze on his skin too intensely, had masturbated too many times without satisfaction to the memory of your eyes on him that he’d been forced to relent. He needed the sound of your voice in his head also to be able to come. 

“Why is it so difficult?” He asks again because he has to understand. Because he needs an answer desperately. 

“It’s hard to see someone as simply themselves, simply human – a sentient flaw, so to speak – when they make a mistake. And yet, as grievous or offensive as something can be, we all do it eventually. Some people have no patience for that.”

“Even though they themselves will eventually, inevitably, do it too?” He can feel himself getting upset, his heart beating too fast, a cold sweat sprouting at the back of his neck while his face flushes hot and red. 

“Yes.”

“That’s bad.”

You shrug, “Perhaps.”

“Selfish.”

Again, “Perhaps.”

And then the true source of his anger, “I think I’m like that.”

You nod like you understand, and he wants to shake you and make you see that there’s no way you actually could. “Would you like not to be?” It pisses him off when your voice goes all even and patient like that. 

“Yes. I hate people like that. I hate people that can’t find it in themselves to forgive – to give someone a second chance.”

“Why do you think that is?”

He can’t help himself when he vomits the words, not fully expecting them to come out so slicked in truth as they do. “Because I wish someone would give me one, even if I don’t deserve it. F– forgive me– But even then… what does it matter? What does it matter if I’m forgiven, given a second chance, absolved of all my sins? Look at where I am. Look at what I've become. I’m entirely lost to myself. You know, sometimes I can’t remember my own name if you don’t remind me of it.”

“You’re Joel. You had a daughter. Her name was Sarah.” He flinches at the sound of it, wants to bare his teeth at you like a rabid animal. “Your brother is Tommy. He calls every Friday at three o’clock to ask how you are. You’re Joel Miller.” That’s right. The morning after I killed myself, I met my brother for the first time. The real him. The him who’s afraid of me. The real Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. Sometimes the name rings familiar in his mind, again, when you remind him of it.

He shakes his head, swallows a gruff sound, tries to shutter the manic look he knows floods his eyes, reverts back to his initial thought, “False senses of moral superiority disgust me.” The sun’s shining in at an angle so that there’s a single tendril of sunlight wrapped around the slim of your crossed ankle, gripping the nylon covered limb in its light. Joel’s eyes shift jealously from that held piece of you to the shadow of far off rain he can see in the distance through the window, trying to find some measure of peace in the sight. It’ll reach here eventually, and he tries to ground himself in the inevitability. “Yes, there’s right and wrong. There’s also humanity. There’s also the right to grow and learn, and to make mistakes that, in the end, make you better. Who are you to condemn me? Is your glass house so pristine not a stain mars it? Grace, forgiveness, empathy… I find those infinitely more valuable than whatever false sense of good and bad you’ve decided makes me worthy or not,” he says, eyes cast towards the coming rain. He can feel your gaze on his face, and he does not want to acknowledge it. 

“But the things you did were bad, Joel. You hurt people. You killed people.” 

That makes his eyes snap back to yours for the way you say it. As if you’re sharing a bit of inconsequential news with him. The weather is about to hit, the rain is almost here. Can’t you see it, just there, in the distance? Voice so even and soft. Sometimes he calls you angel, when he knows he’s charmed you enough just to get away with it, when he’s said all the things he knows you want to hear from him and smiled all the right smiles that cost him so much. Voice like a goddamn angel, face like a goddamn angel. Everything else… like something come straight from Hell to drag him down to where he really belongs and never let him go. 

He eyes you suspiciously. “The Bible says an eye for an eye. They killed my daughter so I took their eyes.” And then other parts.

“And then their lives…” And then their lives. He nods once, succinct. “You ascribe to the scripture?” You snap that little leather bound book open again, red, scratch in it once again, all your secrets about him. That itch returns, stronger than before. He bites down on it, chews it away within himself. 

“What? Like I believe in it? Fuck no. Fuck religion. It isn’t real. A weak construct made for weak men in need of comfort. And– and… like what – it’s going to save my soul? I ate that a long time ago, angel. Look at where I am…” He shrugs, letting his head fall back in a circular motion, coming to rest on his shoulder. He can’t help but smile at you, he knows you hate it when he gets like this, all ornery and heretical. 

You purse your lips, shake your head at him gently, and he wants to eat the lipstick from your soft mouth. “You believe in angels though… you call me–”

His smile cranks up another notch for a single beat. “Gotta believe in somethin’ that’s right in front of my eyes, don’t I? What d’ya think, that’m crazy?” And his eyes slide to the window again, smile melting off his face. “‘Sides they told me so–” 

“Who told you what?” Voice slow, measured, all serious-like. He rolls his eyes, feels the stone of anger in his belly heat, spin, jump to his throat. 

“They killed my daughter,” he spits like a whispered scream instead. The shadow of rain is closer. If the dancing bear were out there, it’d be lost to the deluge by now. “I should’ve done worse. I would have, had I not been thrown away in here.” He remembers that a man with a face like his left him here, but he doesn’t know who. He shakes his head, jostles the non-memory out of his ears, searches harder for the dancing bear, killed a bunch’a people, he murmurs to himself, once more again, because he likes the sound of it.

“So you’re talking about yourself. You want to be forgiven.” He doesn’t like when you tell him, when you don’t ask. It makes him feel like you know something he doesn’t, and he wants to know everything you know. 

“No. I don’t know.”

“Do you feel thrown away, Joel?”

“I feel forgotten – impossible to remember,” his voice cracks at the end, eyes suddenly wet and hot.

“By who?”

“The world.” He can’t remember his childhood. He can’t remember what he was like as a child, and it makes him sad. 

You’re quiet for a long time, no more scratch, scratch, scratch, no more itch. No more angel voice, and then, very soft, like you know you shouldn’t. “I remember you. I haven’t forgotten you.” 

Once, a time ago because he can’t discern lengths of it anymore, it doesn't exist here in the perfect place, amidst what, he thinks, is a lot that you know you shouldn’t have allowed, you’d changed the routine up on him. Had sent for him, instead of coming for him yourself. When he’d stepped into the room where you have your talks, you’d been facing the big window, looking out at the green, the line of your shoulders and the dip of your waist and the swell of your ass in your skirt that shifts like water around your knees and the saliva pooling heavy in his mouth, it’d been too much, too much for a broken thing, and you hadn’t turned. Like the pen, like more trust, you hadn’t turned to face him even though he knew you’d heard the door snick shut behind him. He’d stepped as quiet as he could up behind you, quiet like when he was sneaking to kill, and he’d brushed a single tip of his finger up the length of one of your skinny, little ones, so much smaller and finer than his thick, brutish ones, stroked the palm of your hand. You’d made the tiniest sound, interrupted by a swallow, but he’d heard it. He’d heard the want in it. He’d not forgotten either, and he sees that sound in your eyes now, again, as you stare at him with an intention he’s not so fucking crazy that he doesn’t know you shouldn’t possess. 

He smiles a little again, and you don’t return it, but it’s okay, he sees the sound of your want in your eyes anyways, and that’s infinitely more satisfying to him. “It would serve us all well to remember to try to be a little more empathetic, a little more forgiving.”

You swallow, shaken, he can tell. Shaken by that thing inside you for him he knows shouldn’t be there. You scratch a little in the book, say slowly, “It starts with you, I think, you have to forgive yourself first.”

He doesn’t acknowledge that. There are things you talk about you clearly have no understanding of. You’re young. You don’t know better. He understands. “I think… I think, I haven’t been myself lately.”

“Who have you been?”

And again, he doesn’t mean to say it, but you tell him so much you don’t mean to say either that he feels he might as well also. “Someone–” That anger again, he can’t help himself even though he desperately wants to. “Someone my daughter would be afraid of.” Full blown rage now. At you. Yes, at you. You force things from him he doesn’t want to give you, and there’s a thing within him that wants to punish you for it, take a pound of flesh in repayment. “I want someone to forgive me. I want to be forgiven. I want to experience it.” Truth is like fire, hypnotizing, seductive, once it catches, inextinguishable. He wants to hate you sometimes for forcing these things from him, for not giving him a choice, and worst of all, done so unintentionally, unknowingly. He wants to not give you a choice either. 

“From who?” You ask. Silly little girl. You need to learn the art of restraint, of temperance. He should teach you. 

“Our hour’s up.” He looks away, dismissing you. As if he’s the one in charge here, and not the one caged. Divested. 

“No, it isn’t. It’s–”

“Our hour’s up,” head snapping back towards you, barking–  “It’s time for you to go.” And something in his gaze must tell how far he’s been pushed, by you, for you jerk up and out of your chair suddenly, turning to scurry towards the door, not bothering to say goodbye, not bothering to turn back, not bothering to notice the clatter of your pen on the linoleum. 

He watches you go, a single black seam runs up the back of your hose, and the sight makes him feel violent, eager for darkness and the solitude of his white box room. 

-

He doesn’t know why, maybe the way the rain beats against the singular tiny window in his room, maybe the way it whispers at him like all the other things that whisper at him now, but he knows you’ll come before he hears the stunted jangle of keys, the sigh and click of his door, the bare pad of shoeless feet on the hard floor, you’d thought this through, your too fast, too shallow breathing. 

He’s staring up at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head, cock hard, a little chafed. He wasn’t able to make himself come tonight, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes he needs the imagination of your wet cunt more than just the mere memory of your voice in his mind and the remembered feel of your gaze on him, but he’s never let himself picture the full act of fucking you. Thinks it would send him to a level of unhingedness he’d find unable to restrain in your presence. He only thinks of bits and pieces of you, like a dissected doll pulled apart for his half pleasure. Never the full thing, ever. 

You try and say whatever it is you want to say several times before it finally comes out, all choked and feigned regret, but you do try and put on a good show, swallowed up by nerves as you are. “I– I just– I just came to make sure you’re okay,” you whisper. You’ve never been in his room before. He’s never had you in his space like this, and it makes him leak. 

“You didn’t come for that.” Voice slow, still wide eyed, looking up at the white domed ceiling, something like victory in the shape of a hymn pounding through his veins. He won’t look at you until he’s ready. 

“I… I felt badly about how we left things this afternoon. I shouldn't have– I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t end our talk the way– the way… Joel?” You stutter,  trail off, voice small and unsure. 

He sees you move out of the corner of his eye. One step forward, two back, pressing up against the door again. Little bunny full of regret for coming into the wolf's bed, and he moves suddenly, swift despite his age still. He has little to do here besides move his body, make sure it doesn’t grow rust. He sits up quick as a whip, swinging his legs over the edge of his too small bed, planting his feet wide and sturdy on the cold floor. He can see the tremble of your throat even from here, the pristine lines of you. Your hair and your face and your tits and the tiny little pearl buttons of your blouse like soldiers waiting to be felled on the battlefield. He’s going to rip them from you, pluck the garments keeping you hidden away from your skin, spread you out, filleted. 

“That’s not what you came here for, angel.” He shakes his head slowly, and your panic ricochets higher, makes his cock harder. Your arm reaches back for the latch slowly, fumbling behind you, and he braces his legs. Your other palm outstretched, fingers trembling. He gives you another slow shake, as if that small gesture could keep him at bay. “I hear all the things you tell me. Don’t worry. I always hear.”

“Wh– what do you mean?”

“I always see the things you want me to know. I know… I know. It’s okay.”

“I don’t– I’m not sure… I shouldn’t have come.” Your hand finds the latch, angling your body to slip through as swiftly as possible, and his muscles coil tight and ready. “I just wanted– to– to make sure…” You pull the door open, move to slip away, and he lunges for you, catches the edge of the swinging door, lets you float in the lie that you’ve gotten away for a few seconds, scurrying a few paces down the dark corridor of his perfect place where he’s found his perfect girl. 

The morning after I killed myself, I found an angel. 

You make it as far as the bend in the hall before he’s trapping you in his grip, swinging you around so fast you bounce against the white tiled walls, cages you there, open mouth immediately at your jugular, biting down hard while his big palm completely smothers your face, forces your choked cry back down. His other arm wraps around your waist, lifting and dragging you back down the hall towards his white box and his little bed and all his fantasies, artery caught between his teeth, no more choices to be had, exactly like you leave him all the time. He whispers at you to be quiet, quiet, quiet, angels are always good, and then he’s shutting the door behind him, trapping you inside and plucking the keys from your skirt pocket, locking the two of you away together as you should’ve been from that first day. 

You try and struggle in his arms, little feet kicking weakly at his shins, scratching at his sides where he has your arms trapped, but the sound of your fight is restrained, held low and gurgled in your throat, and he knows that you know that this is what you’d come for, that you’re getting exactly as you’d sought. 

“Fight harder if you’d like,” he says low in your ear, throwing the keys to the far corner and wrapping both arms tight around you, pressing all the air out. Finally, fucking finally. He’s touching you, the plush heat of your breasts against his chest, the soft swell of your belly against his stomach. He’s so fucking hard he wants to rut into you like a beast. “I want you to be scared,” and it’s the foremost truth he’s ever shared with you. The heart of all his depravity. “I want you to want it so bad you’re terrified. As bad as I want it. I want you to not want it also. Want you to fight and cry and scratch and bite, and then take it anyways ‘cause I’m gonna to give it to you anyways. You always take all of my choices from me,” he adds on, voice going barely there, mumbled, pressing a tiny kiss to the tiny hammering pulse in your throat, and you let out your first soft moan. An angel singing right into his ear. Your fighting tells all sorts of lies. He hoists you higher, presses you closer, and you wriggle and squirm, grinding his erection into the soft apex of your thighs. 

“Joel– stop, please– please. I– I didn’t think–” He bends his head to your breast, drags his nose over the hard peak he feels beneath the silk of your blouse, nuzzles there, enjoying the sound of your breathlessness, again that feigned shock. You’re right, you didn’t think, and it’s too late now. What did you expect would happen, coming here to his cage like this in the middle of the night? He catches the taut peak between the edge of his teeth, tugs gently, plucking your cords.

With a fist wrapped in the length of your hair he forces you to your knees at his feet, jerking your head back roughly so that your mouth falls open on a gasp giving him the opportunity to hook his fingers over the edge of your bottom teeth, stretching your jaw open wide. “Open– lemme see,” he orders. “I wanted you so bad,” dragging the pad of his thumb along the sharp edge of your jaw. “I want you so bad. All those days when you forced me to tell you things I didn’t want to tell you. I’m going to show you temperance now, angel,” he nods his head down at you condescendingly when you try and protest. I didn’t force you to do anything, “But you did. You did. You pulled things out of me I didn’t want to share. And now I have to have you. You always take all of my choices from me.” He clicks his tongue down at you, and there are tears in your eyes that go wide and something worse than frightened when he tugs the elastic waist of his soft white pants down, pulls out his angry erection and heavy balls. Your expression morphing from something worse than frightened, to something like desperate, like hungry, like his for the taking. And he’s big, he knows it. Much too big for the pretty little throat he’s about to force it down. But he’s going to be gentle, he’s going to help you, teach you. 

“Joel, please–” And look at you beg, so pretty with tears in your eyes, running down your cheeks. He brings the searing brand of his erection to your cheek, presses the burning hot skin all over your face, coating himself in the wet of your tears, marking you in the thick male scent of him. And the feel of you, just like this, just this little bit – with his fingers still hooked over the edge of your teeth he turns your face so that your open mouth brushes against his length. “Taste– I know you’re hungry for it. Give it a kiss hello, little angel.” 

Your eyes flash up to his face for a brief moment, almost too quick for him to catch, and then you’re pursing your mouth against him, swallowing the shudder that moves through his entire frame. A tiny kiss to the ridged underbelly of his cock, the drag of your lips against the length of him to the fat tip, and then another kiss with wet lips and enough tongue to undeniably lick up some of what’s slicking it. You want him, even if you won’t admit it, even if you cry or fight. It’s all he needs to know. 

Still caught by the teeth he jerks your head back forward, opens you wider and forces his cock down your throat. You gurgle around him, whining, shrieking, false, he knows what you really want. Can feel it in the slicking of your tongue around the proof of his desire for you, he’s giving you everything he has, and he spits your name, purges it from his belly like an infection over and over again while he starts to fuck your mouth. Feels you gulp hard just at the right moment to get his leaking tip caught tight at the choking opening of your throat. He could come just like this. He could, he could. You’re all his. Fill your belly with his semen until it bulges, feed you himself until you’d never be without him. He lets his head fall back, looks up at the white dome, at the false home of the false God, tells you again, voice all cracked and broken and gone away from him, “I don’t believe in God anymore, but that’s okay. I have you to believe in now,” fucks harder, listens to your cries climb up the walls, savors the scratch and shove at his thighs when he tightens his fist in your hair to a painful degree. You always take all my choices from me, always. But he knows that if he’s to show you temperance he must exercise his own, and after a few more slick thrusts, he pulls wetly from your mouth, enjoying your whistling groan as you sag face first against his thigh. He pets your hair now gently, fingers twisting through the softness. He’d always wanted to feel it, memorize its texture, its scent. There is nothing about you that isn’t worthy of veneration, of doing the worst thing in the world just to have you, taste you, keep you.

He lets you rest for a moment, wonders at the fact that you haven’t screamed yet. You easily could, call for help, salvation, an escape. You haven’t, and it soothes him. Makes him feel disgusting in a way that doesn’t match up with how disgusting it should feel to force himself on his pretty angel; a self satisfied type of disgust. Something he should be more ashamed of than he truly is. But when you have so little, when you barely have yourself, when theft is the only means of self satisfaction, little recourse remains for creatures caged in perfect places with only bad avenues left to them. 

He hauls you up by your underarms, lets his wet cock press trapped between the two of you, and he’s so close, so close, so close to what he’s needed for so long. He gathers you in his arms, cradles you gentle and with purpose. Tucks your hair behind your ears and wipes the tears and spit from your face, takes it the sparkle of your big wet eyes. So pretty. “Truly like an angel,” and chucks you beneath the chin when you shake your head at him. “You are. So pretty and so soft.” And then finally, like so many times he’d forced himself not to imagine it because he was terrified of what the fantasy would turn him into, no longer the dancing bear in the distance finding it’s escape, but a hungry one, a violent one, an animal so far beyond control all it could do was devour, he pulls you close by the tip of your chin and swallows your mouth whole. All tongue and teeth and the slick slide of your own fervor because yes, it’s there, tangling with his own mouth, pressing your own spit onto his tongue like an offering. You kiss him back.

You kiss him back.

 And, “I want to make you my little butterfly,” he says, “Spread you open, pinned just for me to look at. Only me.” He whispers it into your mouth, soft and secret and true. He’d string you up if he could, split you open and peer inside, rifle through the shafts of your ribs like a lexicon that spells out the truth of who you really are. And then that sudden anger again, that furious stone spinning in his throat. His touch becomes harder, punishing, “You’re going to tell me everything about you,” he says with all that rage in his voice, spits the stone out at you. “You shouldn’t have kept secrets from me.” Fuck the little red book and the scratch, scratch, scratch. He’s going to have all your truths. He’s going to be the one taking all of your choices away from you now. 

He hauls you towards his little bed, popping the pretty pearl buttons as he goes, knowing he’s going to go to his knees later to collect them like treasures for himself after this is done. He rips the blouse from your shoulders, shudders at your indignant little gasp with the sound of the tearing silk, and you’re all soft skin and fine lace and the prettiest thing he’s ever beheld with his own two eyes in this whole life. 

You bring one delicate hand up to his throat, try and grip him there, push him back, but he presses into the touch, sucks at your mouth again, harder, biting, and you say onto his tongue that you shouldn’t, and please, Joel, just wait, but he won’t and he can’t and he tells you it’s useless to fight because he’s having you regardless. 

“No, no– none of that. You’re going to take your fucking like a good little girl,” and something about his words or his tone or the look in his eyes must make the connection in your brian that this is happening click because you suddenly go boneless, head falling back to bear your throat for him, soft sound of concession slipping from your lips. 

He goes in for the kill, he’s always been exceptional at that, after all. Teeth latched at your jugular, tongue up and across the slope of soft sugared skin, and you taste like salvation. He’s saved now, he’s sure of it. Everything he’d lost, his daughter, his mind, himself, he’s going to find it buried in your cunt. Joel is absolutely certain of it. 

He divests you of your skirt, the pretty lace, leaves the nylons held up by tight elastic around your soft thighs, and then it’s all just bare skin and heat and your soft whimpers, the coolness of your hair between his fingers. He lays you out across the length of his bed, takes in the majesty of his winnings. An angel felled and caught. You lie there staring up at him, and there’s an innocence to your gaze that brings him to his knees, set down and at your mercy now. He parts your legs slowly, one small kneecap in the bowl of each palm, the softest skin he’s ever felt beneath these death roughened hands, and Joel could sob now, weep if he had the time for it. He spreads your thighs wide, palms dragging up the insides, calluses catching on the smooth nylon and watches the dip and hitch of your belly as you gasp and shiver. 

“Are you scared?” He whispers right as his palms reach the uppermost part of your thighs, and you’re all softness and warm, damp skin, plush in a way that makes his mouth water and his gums ache, and then he’s finally laying eyes at the center of you, and you’re slicked in the gloss of your desire for him. Playing pretend, feigned fight and reluctance, but he’s looking right at the heart of you, and all he sees now is your truth. You shake your head no, let out a soft breath. “Look at this drippy little cunt,” and he drags his thumb over the pearl of your clit just as whisper soft as his voice is. A half screeched hitch claws up your throat, your thighs jumping at that first touch. He needs to see more, hooks a thumb at each delicate lip and spreads wide, but gently, so as not to hurt you. That’s for later. He stretches your little hole, enjoys the shy wink it gives him. 

“My God… look at you,” he says with something like reverence in his voice. So slick and gorgeous. “I think this little cunt’s going to take me in very nicely.” He runs the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit again, clicks his tongue when your knees try to struggle shut. “None’a that, angel. Be good for me now.” He presses harder at your clit, runs his thumb down to your twitching opening, passes there lightly, coating himself in your leaking slick. “I wanted you so bad,” he tells you, one more moment for confessions before he starts. “I want you so bad. And you’ve always taken all my choices from me. Forced me to stay myself when that’s not who I want to be anymore.”

“You’re Joel,” you whisper, and bring your hand to circle the wrist of the hand he’s petting you with. Not pushing him away or pulling him closer, only a gentle manacle around the thick of his bone. He looks up and into your eyes as he presses his thumb slowly inside of you, hooking it over the thin edge, twists you open slow and gentle and measured, gets you ready for the thickness he’s about to split you open with. 

“That isn’t who I wanted to be anymore. I wanted to forget all that, all the bad, her, I wanted to forget all of it. I tucked her name under my tongue for so long it became blood, and I wanted it like that. And you didn’t let me.” 

Your thighs shift restlessly around him, and you bring one foot up to the edge of the bed, anchoring yourself there so that you can begin a gentle rocking motion of your hips, fucking yourself slowly on his thumb. Your breasts heave and sway with the motion and his balls go so tight and so searingly hot, he could come just now like this from the sight of you, suddenly green and untried like he was in his youth. He didn’t think it was going to be like this, and it’s like he’s wasting your honor, stealing it from you, but something given can’t be stolen and his plans are foiled, he’s not in control but he doesn’t really care either. He finally has you. 

He bends his head, brings his mouth to your slick swollen cunt and takes the first sip. Groans so deep in his chest he’s more animal than man suddenly, sucking hard and sharp on your clit, he pulls his hand from you and laves his tongue over the entire slope of your sex, tongue dipping into the well of you. He spreads your lips again, wide, stretches your hole and fucks you with his tongue, big nose pressed to your clit, drowning in your sweet musk. Your fingers twine in the overly long curls of his hair, and he grips your thighs so hard he’s sure you’ll be left with the mark of him later which only makes him rougher, stronger in his hold. With your grip in his hair you sing for him in soft moans and whimpers and more feigned resistance with whispers of no, Joel, and please, stop while you ride his face, his entire mouth covering your cunt, eating it. More beast than man, not Joel, not a father, not a brother, not a killer, only yours. Carved in the image you’d wanted him to be. The one you’d made him with your words and your looks and your scratch, scratch, scratch. All those times you’d asked him what do you want, Joel? And he’d never had an answer for you because what was he supposed to say? You, this, freedom, your wet cunt, the far off field and the dancing bear and my daughter back, alive, my brother, face not unknown. My name, my name, I want my name back. I want myself back. To be alive. I want to be alive. You come on his tongue, first with a shudder and then with a groan, your entire body flushes hot, and it’s a concession of yourself and a door opening, the first vestiges of what the rest of his life will be. 

“You’ve got the sweetest little cunt, baby. Goes so tight and wet and fluttery,” he licks up the sticky sweet of your come, runs his tongue over the wet around his mouth, feels it trickle through his beard. “Think I’ll keep you.” 

Pulling his shirt up and over his head, he crawls up the length of you, slotting his hips between your damp thighs, pushing his soft pants down his legs as he goes, gathering the small of your wrists in a manacle of his fingers to pin them up above your head. He drapes himself over your body, covering you entirely with his weight and pauses for a moment, nuzzling through the curtain of your hair to get at your ear, your throat, your smell. “Are you going to fight back?” He says soft into the small shell of your ear. 

“No, I don’t want to.” You turn your head further to the side, bearing more of your throat to him. 

He follows your orders, runs a line of wet kisses up the delicate column, tastes the pulse of your heart and the slope of your shoulder. “Why not?”

“I don’t have it in me. I’m not a fighter, I came from a place where there was always fighting, where I always had to do battle constantly. I don’t have it in me now, anymore, ever.” You turn to face him again, lick at the line of his mouth, suck on his tongue, your hips rolling now against him, his erection slotted between the soaked lips of your cunt, swallowing him in warmth. “But also, because you were right. Because I want you. Because I did take all your choices from you.” 

Your words pull a groan, a whimper from him, and he pulls his hips back, presses forward, uncoordinated and slipping against all that slick, hot skin. He lets one of your wrists go, keeps the other trapped above your head. “Fuck– grab my cock,” and he feels the heat of your fragile formed hand wrap around the thick of his cock. An ugly, brutish thing held by perfection. You squeeze gently, twist just barely, and he feels his tip rim puckered skin, hot and round and persistent, probing against you as you try and find the right angle. “I’m gonna ride this cunt – hard. And you’re going to take it just how I give it. And you’re going to beg for more and harder and you’re going to thank me.”

Yes, yes, yes. Please, Joel. Thank you, Joel. 

You notch the tip of his cock at the wet mouth of your cunt, and then he’s pushing in, saving himself, finding salvation, returning or leaving himself, it doesn’t really matter anymore. He presses in, in, in all the way until he’s sitting hard and heavy and deep inside of you, and he’s sure he can almost feel your heartbeat when he bottoms out, balls pressed to the slick curve of your bottom. Your breaths scratch in whimpers against his ear, his hair fluttering in the wind of your gasps, and your free arm wraps tight around the back of his neck, your hips rolling to take more, impossible, for he’s already deep as he can be, tip to womb. But he shifts his weight, grinds against your cervix and enjoys the sound of your pained moan. 

“You feel right there? Where it hurts? That’s where I fuck you full’a my baby, little angel.” And his thoughts are unhinged, his desires full of madness and future and possibility. He pulls his hips back, drops them and shifts his weight forward inside of you. “And right there?” Grinds against your most sensitive spot, “That’s where I make you cream all over my cock.” He pulls his hips back again, focuses the tip of his cock at that desperate place inside of you and with his hand gripping your bottom to the point of pain he pounds into that place over and over again. The slick wet, obscene sound of his cock fucking in and out of your drippig cunt rings in his ears, and he grits thourgh clenched teeth, “Say thank you, say thank you. Beg me for it harder.”

And you’re so good, so good, and all please, Joel. Harder, harder, more. You’re so deep, it’s so good, please, more. 

He’s going to fill you up and mark you and keep you for himself, and he bends his head, wraps his mouth around the full and heavy weight of your bouncing tit as he fucks you into orgasm around his cock. Going tight, tight as a fist, so wet it drips down his balls and onto the already soaked sheet of his too small bed, and you come for him the way he’d never let himself fantasize about before. Your moans like a song in his ear, and it’s so fucking good, better than any dream, better than anything the voices in his head or the dancing bear could have ever conjured up. He shifts upwards, anchoring himself above you so that he can look down at you as he fucks down deep into your cunt, cock punching against your womb so that it hurts, so that the look on your face is folding in on itself, but good enough still so that your pussy convulses again in another forced orgasm. He wants to look at you as he fills you with his spend, turns you into something he owns after this. 

“Gonna fill you up now– gonna fill you until you’re leakin’ me.” Your hands slide up the soft slope of his stomach, his chest, fingers dragging through the hair there, twisting and pulling on it, up to his face where you cup his chin gently, eye to eye and all wrapped up in your cunt he starts to come, the thick heat of his semen coating your womb while you milk him deeper, every last drop of every last part of him he has to give. 

When he’s done he pulls heavy and wet from you, the sight of your swollen red cunt gaping from him, he finally pulls the slick ruined panty hose from your legs, the marks of the too tight elastic leaving brands in your soft skin, he fingers the grooves gently, clicks his tongue at the sight in reproach. The only thing leaving marks in your skin now should be him. He pulls your wrists back into his grip again, and the look on your face is almost melting in submission, soft and spent and sloppy, leaking cunt all covered in him. 

He ties each delicate wrist to the iron frame of his bed, tight, he can leave marks here now, you’re all his, and returns his attention to the source of his salvation, ignoring your protests as he eats his own come from your cunt until you’re crying a little too loud to remain undiscovered, coming twice more before he gives you reprieve, but he’s the one taking all your choices now, and you have no say in what happens after this. 

He eyes the forgotten keys he’d thrown to the dark corner of his white boxed room, “If you’re not good and quiet, I’ll leave you here for everyone to find, naked and fucked and leakin’ me. Pretty used cunt for the whole world to see, that what you want?”

“No, Joel,” you shake your head, all falsely innocent gaze sparkling up at him. 

And he tells you how good you are because the two of you are only going to share truths with each other now, only going to share everything. “I had nothing for so long. Nothing. Not even my own body, not even my own mind. Now I have you, and I won't give you up for anythin’. You’re mine now. They all told me so.” 

“Who told you?” You ask softly, but he ignores the question as he draws his clothes back upon himself. 

“I find myself so hard to remember and so easy to forget, but you remember me. You said so, and now I’m going to make sure you never forget.” Joel collects the keys and the pearls brought to him for his salvation, the dancing bear is so close now, and wraps your shredded clothes back around you, unties your wrists from the bed only to re-secure them, and hoists you folded over his shoulder for the taking. 

Joel lost his daughter, and then he lost his mind, but now he’s found you. And they said it would all be okay now that he’s found you. 

The morning after I killed myself, I found the end of my suffering, and at the end of that suffering there was a door – behind that door, I am alive again.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#vic fic #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us au #Joel miller smut #dark joel miller #dark fic #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal characters

[spacedace]

Fuck whatever DC is doing with the al Ghul's characterizations and story lines, I've decided that from now on the al Ghul's are gonna be DC's version of the Addams Family instead.

Now I don't mean just give the various al Ghul's the exact personalities of the various Addams and call it a day. That's boring, that erases all the interesting parts of the al Ghuls, that's just using "find & replace" and not actually adding anything. I mean give them the vibes of the Addams Family.

Keep the al Ghul's as the al Ghul's with all their scheming and machinations and world domination attempts but give them all the unhinged energy, the casually insane view of the world, the deranged levels of love and devotion for family. Make them that group where objectively they are batshit insane but also you cannot argue with the fact that they are indisputably the most stable and functional family in the entire universe.

They're creepy, they're kooky, they're mysterious and spooky. Ra's many opulent homes and impenetrable fortresses are a museum and the al Ghul's really are a screa-um whenever people come to see-um (or when they lay waste upon their enemies in a surprise attack that has been planned for months and is just the first domino in a series that will ultimately lead to achieving a far greater goal).

They all love each other and want each other to be happy, they express this primarily with stabbing and murder attempts (its fine, death is a thing that happens to other people).

And forget the League of Assassins being a cult. Just make the whole vast globe spanning organization a collection of cousins/aunts/uncles/dear old friends ect. No one (not even the al Ghuls, if they cared to keep track of such things) is sure who is actually related to them and who just got absorbed into the ever expanding family tree based on their vibes being right.

(Is Sensei Ra's father you ask? Well he's certainly someone's father - probably.

Anyway have you heard about Cousin Cheshire? Despicable poisoner of a young woman, capable of the most horrific things imaginable - yes she is the sweetest dear. Like I was saying though, she just had a baby!

Everyone in the family is just so excited to throw a baby shower to celebrate! Ubu has really gone all out with the spike traps, he does so love getting to welcome a new addition to the family.

Talia of course has cultivated a brand new strain of the most toxic plants imaginable to make a brand new kind of necrotizing poison. You know, as a nice little romantic gift for Cousin Cheshire and that young man of hers. It really is so important to make sure you take time for you and your partner to go on dates and have a few pitched battles to the death on dark rooftops in the pounding rain when you have children.

Now there is some to-do about it all of course, you know how family get together can be. Everyone is arguing over who should get to give little Lian her first weapon and what it should be. Nyssa is pushing for grenades but Ra's is insisting on a sword - he's traditional like that you know - but Dusan has the vote so far on throwing knives. You know the kind that have the little divots along the edges of the blades them to make it easier to get the poison you dip them in to stick.)

I'm just saying that the al Ghuls should be a delightful cross between the Bond Villains they were originally conceived as and the lovingly unhinged Addams Family. It just feels correct in my heart.

(Again keep the interesting aspects of the characters and the nuances of who each of them are like their drive to save the world through destroying humanity and their strong environmentalist leanings and their constantly playing 5D chess and everything, but like, take away the racism and the cartoonishly evil for no reason bullshit and give them some fun feral energy to go along with it).

#batman #ra's al ghul #al ghul family #talia al ghul #nyssa raatko #cheshire dc #sensei dc #no more racism and fucked up dark family dynamics #the al ghuls aggressively adore each other #violence and schemes is their love language #in the full au version of all of this i'd like to imagine how canon plot points change with the al ghuls having these vibes #Just imagine Damian still trying to kill Tim when he first ends up in Bruce's care #but instead of it being a ploy to get rid of a threat its because he's just so excited to meet one of his big brothers #and attempted murder is just how you tell someone in your family that you love them #Tim just SO CONFUSED because Damian is talking so animatedly about how happy he is to get to have some brotherly bonding with Tim #while ACTIVELY trying to run him through with a sword #idk how things change with Cass exactly but i feel like they would in this #like either David Cain isn't an absolute monster or the al ghuls catch wind of what he's doing & are like #This is NOT how al ghuls treat family! what is this shameful behavior! She can't even insult you while you fight! #fighting and violence is a perfectly healthy way to express your love but only if there's actually LOVE involved! #The Heretic & other Damian clones still get made but only because Talia just misses her son so much that she makes more of him #Nyssa has just been bopping around the world for a few centuries & pops up every now and then to have a death match with her baby sister #i just have a lot of strong feelings about the al ghuls deserving better and combined that with the vibes of my favorite unhinged family #Dick still hates Talia but Talia takes all his insults as her darling step son telling her how much he loves her #which only drives Dick even crazier #Tim rocks up to the League of Assassins during his whole trying to prove Bruce is alive thing already seen as an al ghul #Oh yeah that's Cousin Timothy he's one of Talia's kids - never met a truer al ghul in your life #You see how he blew up all those bases? Ra's cried he was so proud #Ra's spoils his grandkids absolutely rotten which is giving Bruce SO MANY gray hairs

[with-my-murder-flute]

Cristabel and the proverbial sandwich

(Spoilers for Harrow and Nona the Ninth)

I have not known inner peace since I saw someone say, "But come on, does anyone ACTUALLY buy John's story about how the nun died?"

Because honestly, I'd just kind of gone, "Super random, very weird interaction, boy there sure are cult mindworms at play here," and moved on to the next page.

But as soon as I saw that question asked, the amount I did not buy that story hit me like a load of bricks, to the point I'm kind of amazed that I ever did believe it.

Two people. A locked door. A nuclear standoff. A close-range head injury.

On one side, a full-fledged Catholic nun—well done, that’s the classic—who's best friends with a staunchly atheist world-class scientist and believes, if we're to believe John, that Jesus's problem is that he didn't stick to office hours.

On the other, a woman described as, "A total delight. Effervescent. Kind to animals and children. A master of the sword. Did not have the intellect you’d ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange, and was a sickening twerp into the bargain."

Oh, and in the middle, there's also a necromancer who wants to bring back his friends... minus any little details about things he they might have done wrong. He "knows where memory lives in the brain", and they "won't have any of it." And "guys as careful as me don't make mistakes," but then again, all that means is that if he kills someone, he did it on purpose.

C— talks her way into a locked room with John, who's on the phone threatening some world leaders with a nuke, expresses care and concern for him, and then... decides he needs more data on the soul? And kills herself to provide that for him?

I'll be honest, I just don't believe that John was an ordinary guy, totally normal, could be any of us, and he just got put in a really stressful situation and made some bad choices but who HASN'T done things they aren't proud of??? I reject that point of view completely. Like, Elon Musk in any given interaction probably is really stressed out and unhappy and having trouble responding in a way that's at all well-considered or emotionally mature, but that doesn't mean that Musk isn't also, at baseline, a deeply stupid, petty, immature, grandiose, entitled, egocentric person. No matter what situation you put him in, he's going to keep on being those things.

I think that John's initial idea was to put the entire human population of Earth, minus some necessary staff, into some giant cryonic freezers, and give the Earth some amount of time to rest and recover from the effects of human-caused pollution. A plan about which I will confess some hesitation myself; being told "just lie down in this coffin, bro, you'll only be a little dead, I'll totally bring you back to life* in a couple centuries (*98% effective!) " does not fill me with an enthusiasm to hop on board.

And then his project got cut. And he decided, "Well, if they won't agree, I can just make them agree." After all, all that end game needs is 10 billion frozen corpses hanging out in those tin cans, and a small team of staff left to keep the place running. How it gets there is something he can afford to be flexible about. If people won't climb in on their own, he can put them there.

So when C— or the nun tell him to stop focusing on revenge, to bend all his energies to saving the world, I think he thinks: Well, I am. He's gonna wash the earth clean at the end of this! He just needs to be able to set the dominoes in motion. He just needs to engineer a situation that will justify taking his nuke out of the vault and making the pieces fall.

A situation that would be sabotaged, ruined, if anyone made a true deep sincere good-faith effort to talk him out of Plan Nuke and called the legitimacy of this crisis into any sort of question. He needs to prevent that from happening.

Actually. Also. He needs one more thing than that.

He needs an excuse to use the nuke, but also, he's finishing his homework at the very last minute. He still hasn't mastered the soul. He does need a few more test subjects.

Maybe he let her in and thought: Two birds with one stone, eh?

#lis's tlt theories #the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #ntn spoilers #htn spoilers #cristabel oct #john gaius must die

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Layla”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

MASTERLIST

When I surprised him with my new look, he was taken aback at first then a huge smile appeared on his face, even his eyes glimmered.

“Look at ya! You look like a little doll.” Austin said to me as one of fingers played with a piece of my hair. “It makes your eyes stand out more.” He then grabbed my chin firmly. “I like you brunette and with less makeup. This is what I like.”

Bullshit. All he said was bullshit. If he liked me so much when I looked like this then why did he go after Lily-Rose’s tail. Why did he take her out for dinner? Why did he make out with her afterwards? Was I ever going to be enough for him? Because he hadn’t touch me since we were in Australia. And whenever he did, it was loveless.

I confronted him about what happened with Lily, we were having breakfast and I had seen the photos ENews published of Austin and Lily making out after having dinner together.

“Baby, it ain’t nothing, it’s just publicity.” He tried to defend himself, I only glared at him.

“Don’t call me baby.” I spat out harshly, I don’t know why but knowing that he probably called Lily ‘baby’ made me gag. As it had happened with Olivia.

“It’s PR an-” I interrupted him, standing up from the my chair.

“What’s going on?! Why doesn’t she go back to France where she belongs?” I yelled at him as I hit the table with my hands.

I couldn’t really read his face, he was in between being mad and taken aback. Of course he also stood up and grabbed my shoulder, tugging me a little.

“Listen to me. Cynthia. I need a woman who understands that things like this might happen. Are you gonna be her or not? He asked, looking down on me as if I were an spoiled child getting reprimanded.

“Okay.” Was all I said as I left the dining room.

—————————

After the incident happening, Austin started to be loving all over again, he had invited to have dinner with him and some castmates. I decided to accept after he begged me for days, I was still mad at him but I decided that maybe this could help us get closer.

I dressed up, monochrome clothing, black pants, cute pink top, I styled my hair and we were on our way to the restaurant. It was a sushi place, it had private karaoke and everything. I recognized some of them, Barry Keoghan and his girlfriend, Callum Turner, Anthony Boyle and others.

It was a nice dinner and food was delicious, although my mind was somewhere else, I was worried because I had left Lori back home with the nanny.

“Don’t worry too much, she’s being well taken care of.” Austin squeezed my hand. I simply hummed and nodded.

Feeling someone’s stare, I looked in front of me and there surely was Callum’s gaze lingering my face down my neck. His eyes went back to my face and he quickly snapped out of his trance, smiling at me and then looking at me. Weird, I thought, but it was the first time in months that a man ever looked at me like that. He didn’t talk to me much, but he surely did talk to the wives and girlfriends of his castmates. But he did look at me a lot, his foot touching mine from underneath the table.

Austin had always been charismatic but he was very, very shy so a karaoke was like social suicide to him. But Callum— he was another story. After a few sips of some Asian liquor, he was sure to go next on the karaoke.

“You should sing an Elvis song, Aus.” I whispered to Austin, trying to cheer him because it was truly getting boring.

“No, Cyn— I’ll just embarrass myself.” Austin denied it, he stayed at the booth and I rolled my eyes, I saw Barry’s girlfriend and a producer’s wife laughing with everyone as Barry and the producer sang ‘Heart of Glass’ without hitting a single note.

Laughing but at the same time feeling like I wasn’t enjoying this as I should, Callum made his way to me swiftly. Clearing his throat and sitting on the booth.

“Should I sing?” Callum spoke to me with his amazing voice and British accent, catching my attention.

“If you want to.” I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’ll sing one for ya. You’ll see, cause now— your man is as boring as a math class.” I chuckled and thought he was just joking. But then he got up and grabbed the mic, quickly searching for the song. As the instrumental started to play— I recognized that guitar riff everywhere. ‘Layla’.

As not everyone knows, the song was written by Eric Clapton, confessing his love to George Harrison’s wife, Pattie Boyd. I thought he must be just trying to lead me on, everyone cheered for Callum and his god-awful singing. Maybe it was to play it off but he started to jokingly point at whatever girl was taken. Everyone took it as a joke, even Austin. But towards me, he was a bit more serious.

‘I tried to give you consolation from when your old man let you down.’

‘Like a fool, I fell in love with you. You turned my whole world upside down.’

‘Layla, you’ve got me on my knees. I’m begging darling, please.’

He sang it directly to me, he tried to be playful and everything, but I knew he was serious. I just chuckled and tried to play it off. Was it so wrong that I wanted to tear his clothes off even if my husband was besides me? I could say the same things Austin said: ‘I’m a woman, I have needs, it’s in my dna.’

When the guys went to pay, I saw Callum grabbing his jacket, I got closer to him.

“What was that?” I asked, wanting an explanation.

“What, sweetheart?” He asked, acting oblivious, seeing my annoyed face, he chuckled. “It’s just a song, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby, I’m not your baby.” I said as I rolled my eyes.

“Come on. I could’ve sang you an Spectrum song. What about ‘How you satisfy me’?” He looked around a little before starting to pretend to have a microphone on his hand. “Honey, your love is what I need…”

“It’s not funny.” I protested in annoyance, Callum looked at the guys paying, he then smirked and looked back at me.

“You know what’s funny? That you didn’t shut me off when I was staring at you, you liked it.” Callum whispered on a teasing manner.

“I’m a married woman, for your information.” I showed my wedding ring.

“That hasn’t stopped me before and it won’t stop me now. Austin doesn’t act like the married man either.”

That was like a stab in my heart, it was humiliating that everyone else knew he was unfaithful, he immediately dropped his smirk.

“I’m sorry— I just like you a lot.” I nodded at Callum, he was beautiful but, he wasn’t what I liked.

Callum just pressed his lips together, he was going to walk off but he stopped to say something.

“If you ever feel, lonely or abandoned. Just call me.” Callum said before he waved at all of us and walked out of the restaurant.

Austin and I went back home, I tried wearing black negligee, hoping he’ll touch me again. It didn’t work, he pushed me off.

“I’m not in the mood, honey. Let’s just sleep.”

Frustrated, I tucked myself under the covers and tried to fall asleep. I knew he was turned on— he was. He just didn’t want to touch me. My days were getting boring, I wished I had something to film, some script sent to me, anything. Everyday I woke up with the hope of getting a text or an email with a new script.

—————————

I thought of Callum’s proposition everyday, I was indeed very lonely. My mind went on and on about his words: ‘If you ever feel, lonely or abandoned. Just call me’

I ended up calling him, just a night out as friends, yeah, friends with capital F. I got ready, I wore a black short skirt and a nice little cardigan. I decided to wear my now light-brown hair on a side ponytail and I styled out my bangs. And surely, Callum and I met at the movies.

We were watching a foolish movie. I was barely even looking at the movie, I was looking at him the whole time and he knew it because I saw that stupid little smirk of his. Swiftly, he placed his hand on my knee, making me smile and look away shyly, like a teenager. After the movie, we got into his car— nervous to do anything wrong, I was very quiet.

“So, you’re lonely all the time?” Callum asked, breaking the silence. I stayed silent, looking out the window. “Tell me, you know it’s just your foolish pride.”

“I stay back home. I’m waiting for a good script to come to me.”

“So what do you even do? You’re lonely and no man is waiting by your side. You seem like the perfect target for a man like me.” Callum joked, I laughed too.

I felt at ease with him, we had a lot of fun even while driving around London. He parked in front of my house, I was in silence. He leaned in and kissed me, not aggressively but romantically, I liked the kiss so I continued it. I never thought I’d make love on the back of a car, afterwards I felt really regretful of it, I was just like Austin now— I had been unfaithful.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He asked after we had gotten dressed again. He caressed my cheek.

“I shouldn’t have done this.” I said in regret, but he just smiled.

“Hell yeah you should have done so. Time for him to get a taste of him own medicine.” Callum said, I had a mental argument with myself.

Should I keep this going or not? I was a woman with needs and wishes of being desired by my husband but he always decided to turn around and go with other women.

“When do we see each other again?” I asked him, if I was going to cheat, might as well enjoy so.

—————————

My relationship with Callum developed into an affair, very passionate affair. While Austin was away having his fun around London and on set hanging out with Callum, we both texted each other behind his back.

Callum reminded me a lot of myself actually, I had told him one time that I liked blonde-haired men and the next day he texted me telling me that he was at a hairdressers appointment, he surprised me with a selfie of him full on blonde, which he already was naturally. He was scolded by producers. I also told him I liked trench coats and men wearing black slacks, next Sunday night, he’s wearing all of that. I was starting to be as demanding as Austin— and I hated it. What if he was feeling pressured or if he started to feel like I felt?

“It’s boring being the same everyday, sweetheart.” Callum chuckled with me, caressing my cheek softly.

“I don’t want you changing yourself.” I said, a bit sternly. “But blonde does bring out your face more, it makes your eyes stand out more.”

I sounded just like Austin. Just like him. Callum and I spent that night together too, but we were surprised when Austin came home earlier. My acting career prepared me all my life for this, Callum was surprisingly smooth, as he pretended to be coming out of the bathroom fixing his shirt while I quickly made the bed and fixed my smeared lipstick.

“What is he doing here?” Austin asked suspiciously.

“He came over, he said he wanted to see Lori and he thought you were here.” I said confidently as Callum nodded from the couch where he was watching Lori play.

“I thought you were here, mate. Sorry bout that.” Callum said, playing innocent for most part. Austin just nodded and took off his coat, placing it on the rack, he bent down to pick up Lori and placed a kiss on her cheek. He walked up to me and he wiped some runny eyeliner. It had smeared on the corner of my eye because of Callum and I having out little get-together in bed.

“Your makeup is all smeared.” He said, his touch being anything but gentle. He then grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer, he was jealous. Jealous because Callum was there.

“I know— the weather is wet. It makes my eyeliner smear.” I said, I used waterproof eyeliner.

We had dinner together all night, all of us, it was rather uncomfortable. Austin was really jealous.

“You like my wife?” Austin tried to be playful while hiding his jealousy.

“I’d snatch her and Lori at any minute.” Callum answered back jokingly. “I’m kidding but y’all are beautiful family.”

Callum said all while looking at me, I wanted to kill him right there. I just nodded and smiled. And you know what? For the first time in so long— I felt alive.

#Spotify #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austinbutler #elvis and me

[jenscx]

no but minji is lowkey talking this TOO far😭 like girl, i completely understand you being hurt that gf didn’t talk to you for the longest time after her company came out that she was dating some other idol, i get that. AND THEN hearing about a bet on ur relationship, minji deserves to play hard to get as long as she wants BUT DAMN… the relationship between y/n and winter was confirmed fake by y/n the SAME day she texted gf minji back and she’s been on her knees begging for forgiveness ever since😧

atp, does minji miss her or not? cause going around w another idol PUBLICLY (did y/n and winter even have couples photos bro😭) and then saying the relationship was nothing and that y/n is nothing TO YOU, is insane😧😞 bestie best be giving up and staying that way forever😋 cause me personally couldn’t get back w someone even after i explained myself and have been redeeming myself, then they come back w a fake relationship JUST to rub it in my face and hurt me. I JUST HAD A REVELATION.

sorry this is a lot, i’m so incredibly invested and it’s making me sick thinking about it😞

minji is defo a morally grey character here, either u like her or not. both minyn in attention, while the smau is still rather lighthearted, are red flags lol. one of them has no self-confidence and always goes back to her ex and the other one is just a sadist. in the end will yn have character development? probably not because all of this takes place within a week. the duration of their relationship is incredibly short considering their feelings for one another. while you may think yn is stupid for going back, i feel like a lot of people experience the same thing. people joke about going back to their ex and still missing them and they will go back to their ex if they had a chance to.

minji prob doesn’t miss yn, just the idea of her. their relationship can be perceived as genuine or fake. in attention, there’s a always a domino effect. yn is put into a fake relationship -> she doesn’t text minji about it -> minji doesn’t ask her about it -> minji doesn’t give her a chance to explain etc. both of them don’t do many things in the relationship. yn is hurt, definitely but will she go back to minji if she came begging on her knees? absolutely.

while i agree with you that i would never go back to someone that treated me that way, i can’t say that for certain. the premises during their breakup was that yn and minjeong were dating, which led to yn getting hate comments and death threats like any idol couple does. if i were yn and i saw these comments, wouldn’t i have a desperate need to be loved? and who else to love me other than my ex-girlfriend? if she did it before she could do it again, right? maybe you can relate to yn, maybe you think she’s stupid. maybe you hate minji, maybe you sympathise with her. attention’s storyline will not change based on the comments i receive from you guys. it’s like seeing your friend in a toxic relationship. you can’t control the outcome.

#🎙️ — min! #sorry this was VERY LONG

[featherandferns]

6 angst but with happy ending I can't deal with sadness 🫣

6. I take it, that's not a good thing.

Sorry this took me so long to write! I hope it's sort of what you were after!

feel free to request: prompt list

The Fire - Prompt 6

Outside, on the marsh bank, crickets chatter. It’s warm inside the chateau, the way a greenhouse absorbs the light of day, and JJ relaxes against the sofa. It feels as if the group had been running endlessly these past few days, with the cross and John B’s father, and all the other shit swimming around in the background. JJ and his best friend Kie are still in the midst of a fall-out after he stole the money clip. You'd been talking to him about it, encouraging him to make peace over the matter with her. He hates when you're right about things.

His eyes flit to the bathroom door. He’s been meaning to fix it, ever since he started staying at the chateau, but it never seemed all that important. Then life got chaotic and a hit-and-miss lock became the least of his worries, when compared with surviving on an island and being chased by an insane millionaire.

From his spot on the sofa, he can only just make out the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. You’d jumped at the chance to shower, finally having a moment of peace and quiet, and nobody had argued against it. JJ had teased that you smelt bad anyway, so a shower was probably the right move. Earnt him a mirthful roll of the eyes as you stuck your tongue out at him.

At the table ahead, Cleo and Pope play board games – dominoes and cards – to kill the time. JJ looks away from them, down at his hands, and plans on swallowing his pride. Kie’s been sat beside him for a moment, stuck in a mild awkward silence. Her fingers meddle with the strings of her ukulele, that has sat neglected for months.

“Hey, Kie,” he begins. “Uh, you know that whole entire money clip and dad situation?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs.

“Well, um, that wasn’t that cool and I’m kind of beating around the bush a little bit, but um, I’m…”

As he nervously looks around the room (never one to be good at apologies), JJ’s eyes catch onto the building orange glow outside the kitchen window. It’s naturally fluorescent and unnaturally familiar.

“Yeah?” she coaxes, frowning.

JJ slowly gets to his feet, trying to get a better view of it. His stomach begins to sink lower into his chest. It seems Kiara’s caught on too, getting up, abandoning the uke.

“What is that?”

The flames are licking up the walls now and JJ can faintly make out the crackling of embers.

“Um…”

“That’s a fire,” JJ breathes, realisation dawning like a meteor making impact with earth. It’s like it kicks him into action. “We gotta tell ‘em. Tell them, tell them!”

Kie darts to the bedroom where John B and Sarah were last seen as JJ hollers for Pope and Cleo. Their heads shoot up, taken by surprise, and then they’re instinctively looking to the window, to the flames. JJ turns to the bathroom door. Hammers on it. The shower’s shut off now. He calls your name, trying the handle.

“I’ll be out in a minute! Jesus!” you call back, voice light with a laugh.

“There’s a fire!” JJ shouts, rattling the handle once more.

“A fire?” You say. Then you’re rattling the handle too. Harsh and frantic. “It won’t open, JayJ!”

His stomach drops even lower somehow, like it’s sinking into the floor.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. Shoves his body weight against it, battling with the handle. He can hear the click of metal as you attempt to undo the latch, but it sounds as if it’s trapped. You’re trapped.

“What’s going on?” Pope worries, as him and Cleo are heading to the doorway.

“The fucking lock is stuck again,” JJ spits angrily, desperately battling with the door. The house is beginning to fill with smoke, slowly but surely.

“I take it, that’s not a good thing?” Cleo asks.

“Fuck no, it’s not a good thing,” JJ frustrates.

You’re banging on the door now. “JJ! It’s getting hot in here!”

“I’m trying! Try the window!” he shouts back.

There’s the ruckus of you kicking and shoving things out the way, heading for the window. Then a sharp pained screech. The latch must be hot, searing your hands. That means the fires getting closer.

“There’s smoke in here!” you cry out. The handle rattles again. “JJ! Help me!”

And he’s trying. He’s throwing himself against the door and yanking at the handle and doing anything he can. Coughs a little from the smog. Hollers for the gang to get outside, to not wait around. Hollers for you to keep calm, to keep trying the lock. Panic clouds his head the way smoke clouds his vision. All of his thoughts are focused on you and getting you out and safe. He needs you safe.

You’re coughing loudly. The handle isn’t rattling as much anymore and that only fills JJ with more dread, making his limbs feel heavy like they’re laced with lead. It’s a small bathroom with no ventilation. JJ knows it’s bad when smoke begins to slip underneath the bottom of the door.

The handle stops rattling.

He shouts your name, banging frantically on the door. But you’re not answering him anymore. Not responding. JJ’s sweat isn’t from the heat of the fire. He needs you safe.

The universe has a cruel sense of humour. The latch finally seems to loosen, JJ practically tumbling into the room as the door swings open. He catches himself, only just, to find you collapsed on the floor. You’re still. Eerily still. Gasping out your name, he lunges down, shaking at your shoulders. No, scratch that, there’s no time. He picks you up as if you’re nothing more than a scrap of tissue paper, the adrenaline the only thing keeping him standing. Coughing as he carries you out the house with him, practically dropping to the grass on his knees the moment he’s outside.

The Pogues are rushing around, frantic and concerned, but JJ’s attention is on you. You still haven’t moved. He ducks to place his ear on your chest, searching for a heartbeat through the cotton of your tee-shirt.

Still.

“She’s not breathing!” JJ hollers out. He looks to Pope, eyes so wide they gape. “Pope! She’s not breathing!”

Pope rushes over. Shoves JJ out the way and drops to his knees. Checks for a pulse, listens for a heartbeat. JJ’s falling back on his haunches, raking his fingers through his hair, crying as Pope starts CPR. He’s hyperventilating as Pope pumps his hand against your chest, fighting for a heartbeat. Pope’s counting under his breath. Sarah’s crying against John B whilst Kie stands to the side, saying a silent prayer, hands clasped in front of her mouth. Cleo hovers behind Pope.

JJ’s reeling. It’ll be the smoke. He should have gotten to you faster.

“Pope!” JJ hopelessly pleads. Sobbing through his panic.

Pope doesn’t acknowledge him. Keeps counting, keeps compressing, keeps fighting.

It’s useless. It’s pointless. It’s—

You gasp out a breath.

Relief has never felt so visceral before, to JJ.

Coughing, spluttering, eyes struggling open, you slowly come around. Pope removes his hands from you, moving to help you ease up until you’re sitting. JJ rubs at your back, helping you hack up the soot in your body.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that to me,” he hisses, pulling you against his side. Presses kisses into your hairline.

“Had you all going, huh?” you weakly joke.

If any of the gang laughs, it’s the adrenaline leaking out of them. The relief of having not lost you. JJ doesn’t laugh though. Keeps hugging you, tears still silently falling. That was too real. Too close.

“Don’t do that to me again,” is all he repeats quietly.

You hug him back, as best you can in your state, and JJ swears it’s the best hug you’ve ever given him.

“I won’t,” you rasp. Your voice sounds like it’s been attacked with sandpaper. “I won’t.”

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fic #outerbanks #outer banks fic #jj maybank fic #jj drabbles #jj maybank drabble #drabbles #drabble #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #6 #prompts

[tw-inkl-e-tit-s]

✩ -Flustered- ✩

Pairing: Miguel Cazarez Mora x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.9k

Type: Fluff

Warnings: None other than some cussing if you squint!

Maddy is pink in text and Y/n is purple in text!

| Miguel Cazarez Mora Masterlist

꒰ Miguel's Pov ꒱

I stared at the photo on my phone screen, She was so beautiful an angel even.

She was so breathtaking, She had me so flustered and I haven't ever met her.

"Are you stalking y/n's Instagram again?" Maddy asked sitting down beside me, I quickly clicked out of Instagram and turned my phone off,

"What no!" I said playing dumb,

She rolled her eyes sighing, "Why don't you just DM her?" She asked,

"Are serious? DM THE y/n y/l/n?" I asked raising an eyebrow,

"Haha no! She would laugh her ass off- She would probably post it on her Instagram story like Noah Schnapp posted doja cat's DM!" I said throwing my head back,

"No, she wouldn't!" She said rolling her eyes,

"Oh, really how would you know?" I asked looking over at her,

"She just doesn't seem like that type of person," She shrugged smiling.

I was debating on messaging y/n, but the chances of her seeing my DM out of a thousand more are extremely low, I think I'm just gonna have to admire her over the screen and live in my own fantasy world.

"I could do it for you!" Maddy said, I raised my eyebrow looking back at her.

"Do what?" I asked, "I could DM y/n on your phone since you are too chicken," She laughed

"Come on kids we need to go!" I sighed as Maddy and I got up to walk to the limo outside.

"I'll think about it Mads," I said, she nodded as we got in the limo.

꒰ Y/n's Pov ꒱

"Alright, all done!" My Makeup artist Tami said as she closed the lip gloss.

I looked in the mirror and smiled at my reflection, I had just gotten my hair done as well and I was already in my outfit.

My bestfriend Maddy had invited me to a movie premiere, She was recently in a movie called the black phone.

I of course said yes to going, She is my bestfriend after all, Plus she said she needed to tell me something when I got there.

"Are you ready?" Tami said as I stood up out of the seat,

"Kind of, I'm just nervous." I said playing with my rings, "Awh why honey?" She asked laying a hand on my shoulder.

I was excited to go don't get me wrong I loved supporting my bestfriend in anything she did, but there was a certain someone that was gonna be there tonight, Miguel Cazarez Mora.

"Well, I kind of have a crush on Miguel, But he doesn't know me- And what if I stutter when I speak to him or-"

"You will be fine y/n, if there is one thing I know about you it's how confident you are, I've seen boys flirt with you before and you just end up making them all soft, you make them boy's fall like dominos." She said packing up all her makeup.

I guess she was right, I just need to be confident and not make a complete fool out of myself.

"Let's go y/n everyone is on the way there." My bodyguard said as he walked into the room, I nodded my head got up and walked outside to the limo.

"You got this y/n, remember who you are," I whispered to myself as the limo drove off.

꒰ Maddy's Pov ꒱

We had finally arrived at the premiere and I couldn't find y/n anywhere, I just decided to text her.

......

Prettiest girl💕

Hey, where are you?

I just got to the premier

Why what's up?

Come to the green room everyone is back here!

KK getting mobbed lol

see you in a min 😽

😽😽

.....

"Bro shut the fuck up that's why you can't pull no bitches." Mason yelled as he and Miguel walked through the door, Brady and Tristan following in after them laughing.

"What do you mean I got tons of bitches on my d-" I quickly cut Miguel off by Calling out for Mason to come over.

"Mason Come here!" He walked over saying a quick bye to the boys,

"What's up?" He said standing in front of me, "Okay, So you know how Miguel has a fat crush on Y/n Y/l/n right?" I said, and he rolled his eyes.

"Do I know? He never shuts up about her!" He said causing both of us to laugh,

"Well she's my friend and I kind of invited her without telling Miguel-"

His eyes widened as his jaw dropped, "YOU WHAT!?" He yelled, I quickly put my hand over his mouth, I looked over at Miguel who was looking at me and Mason With a confused look, I sent him a quick smile before looking back at Mason.

"Could you shut up! You're goin' to ruin the surprise idiot!" I said rolling my eyes

He put both of his hands up in surrender, "My bad- My bad," He laughed,

"So how are you going to surprise him?" He asked, "I'm just gonna try to get him close as possible and then I'm going to point her out," I said smiling at my plan.

"That sounds like a shit plan," I gasped, He laughed and patted me on the back.

"I think that you should tell her that Miguel has a crush on her and then she walks up and kisses him out of nowhere," He said smiling, I rolled my eyes at his stupidity.

"You that's an even worse plan, right? Consent still exists, I like my plan better." I said shrugging my shoulders, our conversation was interrupted by Miguel walking over.

"Hey, Maddy hows is it going!?" He smiled leaning in for a hug, I hugged him back,

"We were just talking about- Uhh- How Maddy won her soccer game!!" Mason said scratching the back of his neck, He gave Mason a weird look but didn't question his friend's weird behavior

"Congratulations Mads!" He said, We all heard gasps and people whispering,

Next thing I know Miguel's mouth and eyes were wide open, He was blushing like crazy and his breathing started to pick up, I gave him a weird look before turning around to see what's got my bestfriend so flustered.

I smiled as I watched y/n walk through the door, Thanking the guard that opened it for her, She stopped in the middle of the room looking around, Smiling and winking at some people that were staring at her, Her eyes landed on me and I quickly waved her over.

"Holy shit- Holy shit- Fuck- Do I look good she's coming over here," I laughed at Miguel's panicking state, He was so red, it was so cute to see him all worked up over just looking at y/n.

"Dude chill, You look red as shit, You could identify as a tomato right now," Mason said, Laughing as Miguel rolled his eyes, "She's just breathtaking," He said, staring at y/n as she got closer to our group, His hands began shaking, Jesuse christ this man is whipped already.

She slowly walked up to me smiling, "Hi Maddy, It's so good to see you," She said hugging me, I smiled and looked at Miguel who was staring at y/n with wide eyes, Mason hit his shoulder, "OW!" He yelled, rubbing his shoulder where Mason hit him, Mason just rolled his eyes laughing at the flustered boy.

꒰ Y/n's Pov ꒱

"Hi Maddy, It's so good to see you," I said giving her a big hug, I haven't seen her in person for two years, But we obviously kept in contact over the phone, "OW!" I looked over to see Miguel rubbing his shoulder as Mason laughed, I smiled as he looked up at me.

"Hi, I'm y/n," I said raising my hand for him to shake, He gulped before shaking my hand, I could tell how nervous he was, "I'm M-Miguel, It's very nice to meet y-you," He stuttered, keeping intense eye contact, He pulled his hand away smiling, "U-Uh h-how do you know Maddy?" He asked looking up at me, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Real smooth dawg," Mason whispered, Miguel sent him a glare,

"I went to my little sister's soccer game, I was sitting down and Maddy came up to me and started fan Girling," I explained laughing at the memory,

"I was shocked to see you there," Maddy said laughing along,

"I heard that you're filming a new movie, Hows that going?" Mason asked,

I in fact was filming a new movie,

Scream VI, I played as Tara Carpenter and Sam Carpenter's little sister, Alana Carpenter.

"It's going good, I defiantly can't wait for it to come out next year!" I Said smiling.

"You're an amazing actor," Miguel said out of nowhere, Mason and Maddy busted out laughing, While I just starred at Miguel and smiled, He nervously looked away, licking his lips,

"Thank you, I liked your character, Robin Arellano, he was pretty badass," I said smiling, He laughed, looking at me.

A boy with blonde hair came up to us, patting Miguel on the back,

"Are you guys coming, We're going to watch the movie," He said, His eyes cut over to me and he gasped,

"NO FUCKING WAY BRO!" He yelled,

I smiled saying hi,

"I'm Brady- It's so nice to meet you oh my god- you're so pretty," He shook my hand, and We left to go watch the movie.

I sat between Maddy and Miguel.

Me and Maddy were sharing a bucket of popcorn before Mason stole it away.

I sighed as I looked up at the screen, Miguel and Mason's part came up, The bathroom scene.

I felt eyes on me, I looked over to see Miguel staring at me, He quickly looked back to the screen, It was completely dark but I could see the red tint on his cheeks.

"Pst" I heard,

I looked over to see Maddy,

"Miguel has a huge crush on you, Just so you know," She whispered in my ear giggling,

I smiled and nodded my head, "Really! I couldn't tell?" I thought, Laughing to myself,

Miguel looked over at me as we locked eyes, "What's so funny?" He asked smiling,

"Just something Maddy told me," I said looking at the screen,

His eyes widened as he straightened his posture, "What did she tell you?" He asked,

"Nothing important."

He looked back at the screen.

꒰ Miguel's Pov ꒱

Shit, what did Maddy tell y/n, she said she would DM y/n for me,

Would she tell her that I like her here, I fucking hope not- But I kinda hope she did at the same time so I don't embarrass myself,

Fuck I'm shitting bricks right now.

I'm still trying to process the fact she was sitting right beside me!

God do I want to kiss her so fucking bad, But I couldn't, I just had to stare at her like a creep.

꒰ Time Skip ꒱

Everybody had just finished watching the movie and went to go take some group photos.

"I'm starving," Mason whined, placing is hand on his stomach,

"Your hungry? I could eat whole human right now," Maddy said,

"Ah hell Nah!" Y/n said as she moved to hide behind Miguel, everyone Laughed, Miguel blushed.

"Do you guys want to go to McDonald's?" Tristan asked, opening the car door for everyone,

"I would kill for some chicken nuggets right now," y/n laughed as she and everyone else sat in the limo.

"Same," Brady said, everybody agreed on McDonald's.

"We are so bougie rolling up to McDonald's in fancy clothes and a damn limo," Tristan laughed.

"Oh well I want my damn chicken nuggets," Maddy said causing everyone to laugh,

When the group got to McDonald's they ordered and sat down, getting weird looks from everybody in there.

"Hey, I have to ask you something," Miguel said, walking up to y/n,

"What is it," she asked, patting the seat beside her, he sat down and smiled at her.

"Um… I don't know how to say this," he nervously laughed, she just smiled and grabbed his hands, keeping eye contact, "You can tell me," she said.

Miguel took a deep breath trying to brace himself for rejection.

He basically shitting himself at this point, he knew he would never get this moment alone with her again, So why not shoot his shot, if she did reject it would be super embarrassing but at least he could say he tried.

"I… I really like you, Y/n… I think you are absolutely gorgeous and I think that you are perfect, I would like to take you out on a date sometime, if that's ok with you- I understand if you don't feel the same-"

Miguel was quickly cut off by a pair of warm plush lips on his, his eyes widened in panic but hurried to relax as he saw it was y/n.

When they pulled away Miguel was a blushing, Flustered mess.

He was smiling like an idiot, but who wouldn't be if they had just kissed Y/n l/n, he was definitely losing it when he got home.

"I like you too Miguel, I would love to go out with you," Y/n smiled, pulling him in by his shirt for another long kiss.

...

Taglist: @vancehopperenthusiast @vancehoppergirl @bradyhepner

@masonthameslvr @theblackphone-incorrectquotes @theblackphonesposts @deadghosy @finneyblakes @luckypinballmachine @mnsnloverhey

#✩🎸Miguel Cazarez Mora🎸✩ #♡︎Bonnie🐇 #miguel cazarez #miguel cazarez mora x reader #miguel cazarez mora fanfiction #miguel cazarez mora

[dreamsandstars24]

NIGHT HAS COME- episode 1

First of all, I think it's safe to say that I won't be watching this one with my family.

Like, what the heck did just happened?

I just finished episode one, and when I tell you I was

I ain't kidding

What is going on?

She had a dream, and then they got to the place and let me tell you, as soon as I saw the figure in the window I would have gone back to the bus and said "nop."

Then, the pool thing? Like, the freak? The freaking ghost? The heck is going on? And she wakes up all

"I don't remember anything."

GIRL, YOU SHOULD HAVE REMEMBERED THE FREAKING POOL!

The mafia? We all know the bullies are the mafia. We all know this is gonna be chaos.

The voting? I ain't playing mafia ever again.

The dead? The eyes? The way he just ran out the window?

More ktraumas for the end of the year everybody, this is going to be another duty after school. I see it, you see it, we all see it.

And the way they all fell asleep? Like domino pieces? Give those actors and actresses a Grammy because I FELT MY HEART STOP!

I don't know if I should watch the second episode. My mom will probably have a heart attack.

See you in episode 2, my dears!

#Night has come #Kdrama #Ktrauma #Mafia game #New drama #tvndrama #kdrama #Shocked

[rist-ix]

What do you think about the fact that the "light" put Valtor in a torture prison for almost two decades and how it could have affected him ? Love you meta btw

Thank you!! About the company of light sending Valtor to Omega…

welp. he had it coming

The exact circumstances of his imprisonment are, as usual, a victim to timeline wonkiness, so we can’t say for certain who it was that locked him up — whether it was Oritel and Marion before the Witches arrived to wipe Domino clean, or the Faragonda-Griffin-Saladin-Trio. But it is likely that Domino was destroyed before he was sentenced to eternity in ice, if not before he was even captured in the first place.

Going from that, Faragonda and Co. have just learned that their friends, their kingdom and their two young daughters (one of them a literal infant) were murdered as a final act of desperation/cruelty in the war. And they have the man who was complicit, if not actively executing said act, in their hands. If we assume that Valtor‘s fate was solely up to them, no Council and Light Rock involved, I totally get why they yeeted him to Ice Hell without hesitation. Any of his previous crimes would probably be enough to warrant that too already. I am frankly surprised that they didn’t straight up murder him on the spot, but that’s were my favorite headcanon that he’s pretty much unkillable (‘cause dragon fire) plays in quite nicely.

I love Valtor, he’s my pathetic lil meow meow, but he is also unrepentantly evil in canon. He’s living for the atrocities. He's doing it for power, but also DEFINITELY for funsies. There is the implication that his mothers can control his physical form, but even then, he never regrets anything he's done and would 100% do it again if given the chance. That is a) very sexy of him and b) a very good reason to put him in the freezer and never talk about him again. I'm with Faragonda on this one folks

That second question tho, how his imprisonment could affect him, offers a whole lot more options:

To be fair, I don’t think it was ever explicitly confirmed that Omega prisoners are awake and aware while frozen, I just like to do that in fics for the angst. But thats still 20 years he's just straight up missing, a lot of changes and developments that happened without him noticing. If he was frozen before Domino fell, thats one big newsflash for sure; if he knew beforehand, he's still terribly out of touch with how the dimension settled around that loss. I also like to think he does not understand half the lingo the trix throw at him. He fakes it till he makes it, but he is SO confused.

Going back to canon, there actually is one pretty big indicator that his imprisonment really fucked him up emotionally tho. And its in everyone's favorite episode too: the one with the ruins on Andros, where Valtor officially introduces himself to the Winx.

If we skip past his private conversation with Bloom (which would be a crime), and to the part where the Winx re-enter the fray to blast him with their colorful beams, we can see one INCREDIBLY quick shift in his behavior, to the point its almost jarring, and it's when Layla / Aisha steps up.

Up to this point, and really, in 95% of his battles, Valtor never loses his charming tone of voice and his calm demeanor. It's how he's mocking his enemies and asserting his superiority: he is so confident in his power that he doesnt even bother raising his voice, he just swats away spells and keeps up the chit-chat. That little shit. He's iconic that way.

Un-fucking-bothered.

But it also means that when he does lose his cool, its very noteworthy and makes it obvious he feels genuinely threatened or unbalanced. When Layla lands in front of him and announces herself as Princess of Andros, his face visibly falls. His smirk is wiped clean off, and he goes straight into the offensive, for the very first time that day.

No banter, no pulling his punches, he goes in for the metaphorical kill and leaves immediately after, with Layla permanently (for now) blinded in one shot. It's the only time i can remember that he specifically targeted her, and its with pure, unregulated rage and ruthlessness. Similarly, while he is doing his one-man world tour of planetary crisises, every planet suffers but Andros specifically is nearly wiped off of the star maps entirely.

While there is a point to be made about how the writers always seem to have it out for Layla, the watsonian reason for this that jumps to my mind is that Andros, for the past 18-20 years, has been his jailor. I'm pretty sure i remember lines from the german dub about how Andros and everyone on it is worthless and deserves the same fate, but even without that, its pretty obvious that Valtor is pissed at them specifically. By doing their galactic duty (or political responsibility) and guarding the Omega Gate, Andros has ensured Valtor stays nice and frosty for almost two decades. While his outward reaction - anger and violence - demonstrates his desire for revenge, his sheer lack of restraint and impulse control hints more at fear in my opinion. In the latter half of s3 we only ever see him freak out like this when he is actively losing the war. He is the animal that bites when cornered.

We cant be sure he was aware in his cell, but if just the mention of Andros can set him off like this, we can assume he really doesn't like to think about it, and might even have some form of PTSD sticking with him. And since his only reaction to fear at this point seems to be maiming and murdering, this will likely contribute to his evil-and-lovin-it problem.

Excellent ask anon!!

#asks #winx valtor #winx meta #winx club s3 ep5

[mamawasatesttube]

timkon and 70?

70. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

By the time the dust settles, it's so late that it's it's circled back around to being early. The eastern sky is growing paler by the second; as Kon tiredly floats his way over the rubble, he finds himself turning his face up to the light.

In the aftermath of the battle, it's finally, blessedly quiet. If he concentrates, Kon knows he'll hear the frantic hustle and bustle of the League field hospital, the snoring of exhausted heroes, the weeping of the bereaved, but if he lets the weariness dull his senses, everything is still.

It's here, alone in the quiet destruction, that Kon finds his sunshine.

The familiar crimson and black of Tim's costume are dull in the dust and dimness. He looks as exhausted as Kon feels, perched atop a chunk of upended mortar and pavement, but his smile as Kon settles into his side is genuine. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Kon slips an arm under his cape, around Tim's waist. Tim melts into his side, lets his head fall against his shoulder, and sighs. Kon was with him during all the fighting—he knows Tim isn't seriously injured anywhere—but they split up to help with different parts of search and rescue efforts afterwards, and it's been hours since Kon got to simply hold him. "What're you doing out here?"

Tim shrugs one shoulder, gazing up at the rapidly lightening sky. "Too wired to crash just yet. Just... thinking."

For a moment, he's quiet, gazing up at the thin, wispy clouds; Kon takes the opportunity to watch him. His hair is messy, falling out of its bun this way and that; he's removed his domino, and the dust and grime on the rest of his face are starkly absent around his eyes. There's a bruise slowly darkening on his jaw.

He's the most beautiful thing Kon has ever seen.

Tim keeps going, after a moment, his face still turned up to the sky. "Sometimes, it's just... ridiculously hard to wrap my mind around all this, even now. You know?"

"What," Kon teases, "after everything we've been through, you still don't think that I love you?"

That gets the soft huff of laughter he was searching for. Tim gives him a wry look, shakes his head, and reaches up to ruffle Kon's hair. "Nah, I figured that one out by the time you proposed." Tim lays his head on Kon's shoulder again. "Does it never hit you as just... I dunno, surreal? Weird as hell? Fucking bonkers, that this is our lives?"

"Hmm. Well, probably not in the way you mean," Kon admits, resting his cheek against Tim's hair. "My life has been fucking bonkers since the day I hatched outta that tube, so I dunno that I have much of a frame of reference. Not like you."

"Mm, yeah, that's fair." The first rays of sun spill over the horizon; Kon closes his eyes and tips his face up with a sigh of bliss as the light soaks into his skin. Tim skims a hand up his back to rub his fingers against the fuzzy stubble above the nape of his neck. "You're my very special clone boy."

"Says my Robin," Kon returns easily. He opens his eyes to glance down at Tim, admiring the play of the early morning light on his dark hair. "...Frame of reference or not, though, if you ever want a break, or want out entirely, I'm behind you a hundred percent, babe. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I know." Tim smiles. The wind catches his hair, sending it streaming out around his face as the last of his bun gives way. Kon's chest aches with tenderness at the sight. "I'm not having a crisis or anything, don't worry. Just... thinking."

"It is pretty fucking bonkers." Kon draws him closer, presses a kiss to his forehead, and lingers, soaking up the dawn. "But I can't complain too much. It gave me you."

"Cheesy," Tim murmurs, but his smile gives him away—when Kon looks at him, he can see all the warmth and wonder of the daybreak looking back.

♥ angst/fluff prompts ♥

#ty meg <333 #this one actually had me stewing like. huh which of them WOULD say it!!! and where and when!!! #timkon #rimi writes #tim #kon #loisinherlane #sorry for not being dramatic i know you love drama. alas... i was stricken by imagery instead

[sara78]

Family don't end in blood - chapter 8

Summary: Y/N had a fun two months off filming and she's finally coming to the grounds with where she's standing and who's got her back. But once again, a few words make all hell break loose in her head and she does something that sets off a domino effect on her and people around her, but it might ultimately lead to a positive outcome...

Word count: 6.000 and probably more

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x foster!Daughter reader

Warnings: angst, so much angst, scary situation (nothing big but if this triggers you SKIP!), Y/N is a lucky bastard to have these people by her side, Y/N's brain is a bitch

Word count:

A/N: This one's a roller-coaster, please fasten your seatbelts!

It's been quite a few weeks since everything unraveled. You would lie if you said that being at Jensen's didn't help. Having three kids eat your brains out occupied you a lot, but Jensen and Danneel made sure that you had your me time. You had a lot of talks with Jensen, Danneel and Jared and thought still confused as to why are they helping you, you were extremely grateful for everything they gave you.

The best time for you was the entirety of January. You finished your first semester of school, with all A's, which made everyone so happy because they all knew you worked yourself into the ground for it and you, for the first time in your life, felt like you were actually proud of what you were doing and your grades and all things you've accomplished this semester. It felt scary, as you closed in your last first semester of high school and were going to start the very last semester of high school ever, and you didn't know what will you do after that chapter of your life is behind you. But you didn't feel any rush, as you were financially more than stable and you have all the time and no pressure to find out just what you want to do with your life. And, well, it felt nice to know that even if you mess up or don't have a plan waiting for you to jump into it, you wouldn't be beaten to death, which definitely helped.

On the topic of beating to death, you were finally letting people close to you in. You finally felt like they weren't going to hurt you. You allowed yourself to let your guards down, even a little bit, even just slightly. It meant a lot to know you could do that. Jensen, Jared and Danneel made sure you were comfortable and they gave you a safe place where you could be just who you are.

You felt like you were finally beginning to heal.

January was also your birthday month and you didn't expect your birthday to go the way it did, but if you were being honest, you haven't had that much fun in such a long time. Your birthday was always special to you, since that was one of those rare moments when your mother put down the bat and let you enjoy yourself for a day with your friends. It felt like she was an actual, loving human being for that one day of the year. You didn't expect anyone to remember your birthday in the first place, but you were a fool to think that when you live with Jensen and Jared next door.

The kids had a sleepover at their grandparents' for the weekend, leaving you alone with Jensen and Danneel. You and Dee had maybe a little too much fun beating Jensen in Mario kart, which he fully allowed. Well, half of it was him allowing you to win. The other half was him just... Not knowing how to play.

The game was interrupted with the door bell going off. You said you were gonna get it, as Danneel was in the midst of kicking Jensen's ass. You walked up to the front door and opened it, revealing a short woman with glasses and a bunch of papers in her hands.

"Hi, how can I help you?" you said with a kind smile,

"Hello, are you Y/N Y/L/N?" you nod, "My name is Jane McAllister. I work in child protective services. You have been disowned and as a minor you are required to come with me and be in the foster care until you're 18 years old."

You froze right there.

Disowned?

"Hey, what's going on here?" Jensen's voice rang behind you as you felt him walk up to where you were standing, at a loss of words, "How can we help you?"

"I will not repeat myself. You have to come with me now," Jane responded and Jensen immediately flew into protective mode, pushing you behind his back,

"You will very much repeat yourself. What do you want from my kid?"

"First of all, she's not your kid," she corrected him, "She has been disowned and is now a part of the foster care system until she turns 18 years old."

"Disowned?" Jensen asked, "Disowning a child is a felony in the US. What do you mean she was disowned?"

"It might be a felony in the US, but it's very not in Y/H/C. She is not a US citizen and therefore she is not falling under the laws here. She will however, as an unsupervised minor, be placed in an orphanage and into foster care until someone picks her. I will have to warn you, teenagers are almost never picked. Especially if they... Look like that," she said, eyeing you from head to toe,

"Well she is not unsupervised, she has a place to stay at and I do not allow you to take her. How's that sound?"

"I do not have a problem with alerting the police, mister..." she looked down to one of the papers for a second, "Ackles."

"Then we'll be her foster parents," Danneel said as she showed up right behind you, "And we got no problem with adopting her. Right, honey?" she said, looking up to Jensen who nod,

"As far as I can tell, you do not have any records of fostering or a profile opened, for that matter. The process of opening a profile is very time consuming and it takes months, even years in your case, since you do not qualify high, as you have three children of your own and you are celebrities. Even if you tried, your poor attempt will be seen as a publicity stunt and it'll be immediately turned down."

"Try us," Jensen growled, "You're not taking Y/N away from here. This is her home."

"I'm afraid it's not."

"I'm afraid you're trespassing," Danneel growled, "Give Y/N the paperwork and leave. You can only come back with a warrant and take her if you have actual solid proof that you got rights and laws backing you up in your action, not just small-talk us into it. Otherwise she's staying with us."

"You are aware this looks like you are forcingly keeping her in? Like you're kidnapping her? You do know that is a felony for you, even if she's not a US citizen?"

"I don't want to go," you whispered, totally out of it, Jensen looking back at you, Danneel's arm on your back, rubbing it gently, "I want to stay."

"I'm sorry honey. But what I'm doing is for the best," she smiled at you but you shook your head, turning around and meeting Danneel for a tight hug, "Expect me with officers in less than 24 hours. Until we meet again," she said, shoving papers into Jensen's hands and walking away. Jensen closed the door and leaned against it with a loud groan. Danneel let go of you and opened her hand towards Jensen,

"Give me those. I'll contact our lawyer and see what the hell is going on and what we can do," Jensen did as told, handing her the papers before pulling you in for a tight hug which you gladly took.

It seemed like hours later when Jensen finally let you out of his warm embrace and looked you in the eye.

You didn't cry. You didn't have a reason to do so. If nothing, you were happy this is happening.

It took you a hot second to realize what's going on in this whole situation. At first you were taken over with fear. But then it dawned on what you should actually do.

"I'll go."

"What?!" Jensen exclaimed, "Not two minutes ago you said you don't wanna go. Whatever happened to that?"

"I didn't understand what was going on. I now do."

"Yeah? Enlighten me, doctor Phil," he sassed,

"My mother disowned me. She wants to get rid of me. She thinks that I'm weak and I suffer when I'm alone. Joke is on her, as I never really had anyone by my side, but she still thinks it's true. Being in foster care, in an orphanage, with the way I look, I'll be isolated, on my own. And even if someone picks me, I'll be beaten, bullied, abused. That's what she wants," you explained, Jensen shaking his head, "I'm gonna make a lot of noise if the cops show up tomorrow. I'll just go turn myself in first thing tomorrow morning."

"That's a no," Jensen said, "You're not going anywhere."

"I don't want to make a scene. I don't want to scare anyone. If she wants me to be there, then so be it. It's okay. It's just for a year. I'll be free in a year and it'll be all okay. I won't have to hear about her ever again. I'll be my own person."

"You are not going anywhere. You got a life here. You can't throw away everything. That's exactly what she wants you to do! Throw away everything you've worked yourself into the ground for. What if she has some sort of a sick, twisted plan up her sleeve? Huh? How did CPS even know you were here? What if she is behind that woman, what if they're working together or... I don't fucking know, what if your mother changes her identity and comes in to foster care you? She takes you with her. Goes MIA. What then?" you gulped, looking down, "What then, when we can't find you? Who knows what the fuck she can do to you. You said it yourself. She's mental. I've seen that sinister look in her eyes. There's a big fat reason she did this and for all I know she could easily manipulate and play outside the rules to get to you. You can't risk going there. You can't risk everything you've built already, your life, your safety. Dee is on the phone with our lawyer and we'll do everything we can to keep you here."

"Jensen, trust me, you don't want me to be your kid."

"Yes we do," Danneel spoke up softly, making you turn around to look at her, "You belonged here ever since you walked in through that door. And after everything you've been through, giving you a family is the least we could do to help you heal."

"How are things looking?" Jensen asked and Danneel sighed,

"We have to meet with our lawyer first thing tomorrow morning. This smells bad on so many fronts and we will discuss this scenario in more detail tomorrow. As of now, he will try to push us into the foster care system and have us take her case," Danneel said, "We hope it'll work out. But you are in no way leaving. You're not going into an orphanage. Not on our watch. Only place you're going to is the bathroom, to take a nice shower and then we'll talk some more. Okay?" you gulped, nodding as you padded off to the guest room to grab your clothes.

Your mind shifted to a dark place when you walked away from Jensen and Danneel.

Part of your brain wanted to believe Jensen was right, that your mother had something planned and she was waiting to get a hold of you somehow. It was rational.

But you couldn't think straight.

All your brain could think of is that you shouldn't be here.

You're dangerous.

Your mother is dangerous. Ways her actions would go to hurt you are dangerous.

And if she knew one thing, it's that you hurt the most when people you love hurt. That was the game she played when she wanted to control you. Hurt people you love.

You couldn't afford to be here anymore.

You sneaked out of the house, since Jensen and Danneel were upstairs in their room and couldn't see you when you walked out. You didn't even get any of your stuff. You just... Walked away.

Every step you took hurt you more, and you knew you'd be the happiest ever if you were to stay there forever and finally have a life-long dream of yours come true, but now wasn't the time for your happiness, but their safety. You kept looking back until the house disappeared in the darkness of the night. A quiet tear rolled down your cheek. Now you had nowhere to go.

You shivered as rain began to pour while you wandered to wherever this road took you. Of course it would start raining and there would be a storm brewing as well. Shows just how lucky you were. And the fact that you were in shorts and a flannel didn't help the situation much.

You were wandering down the streets, now already in a rural area of Austin. Jensen's house was already downtown so it didn't take a lot of walking before you were basically in the middle of nowhere. You couldn't see a single soul out here, besides trees and forests and the thought that something might jump out at any moment and any angle scared you. This whole situation scared you.

This wasn't your first time wandering on streets, in the night, by yourself. But never before were you scared like this. You could tell something bad will happen, again.

Every time you thought about how bad this idea was, you remembered Jensen and his family, and the thought would leave your mind. They were safe. No matter how much you loved them, they were safe without you around. And, well, just because you love someone, doesn't mean you get to stick around and screw up their life.

Cars passed by, splashing you, but the drivers didn't pay attention. Why would they? You were a nobody after all. Everyone had somewhere to go. Everyone had a home to go to. Everyone besides you.

You were wondering what to do now. You're going the opposite way from the city, from the orphanage or wherever you're supposed to be at. You left your phone back home and you knew that you shouldn't be wandering around these parts. You thought it would be a good idea to find some abandoned place and stay for the night, then make it back to town tomorrow. You were guessing that, if he was looking, Jensen was probably looking for you somewhere in town. You had to work around downtown as a whole if you were to go to the orphanage without him or any of the neighbors noticing you.

A black SUV went by you and you froze when you saw it brake suddenly. You forgot your glasses back at Jensen's place and you couldn't make out the plates, but Jensen didn't drive an SUV so that was already a red flag for you.

You swerved your path towards the forest instantly, lowering your head down as far as you could as you tried to find a bush to hide in or a tree to climb up on as you began to walk faster. You began running for your life when you heard steps grow closer behind you and you jumped on the first tree in your sight. But your legs began to slip and you felt your body slip down the tree as well, the surface wet and not very manageable to climb. Just when you were about to slip off the tree you felt arms wrapping around your waist and you began trashing as the person pulled you off the tree. You didn't let up, trying to get away from the hold, digging your short nails into the arms that tightly held you, trying to hurt and kick the man away.

"For fucks sake munchkin stop, it's me," Jared's voice rang over the rain, "It's just me. It's Jared. It's Jare, you're okay," he continued, still holding you tight and waiting for you to stop trashing.

As soon as you heard his voice, something broke inside you. You didn't know what it was. Was it all that fear, anger, sadness built-up that finally broke free? Or was it the fact that Jared is out here in pouring rain, looking for you? And if he was out here, then so was Jensen.

In reality, it was the realization that both of them were so scared that something bad had happened to you and you were gone, scared to the point where they don't care about the circumstances and would do anything to try and find you.

And then, that ear-piercing scream you've let out was some sort of a realization that you hurt people you didn't intend to and fucked things up beyond repair this time.

But you weren't going to let up.

"Stop, stop, stop," he tried, grunting as he tried to console your trashing body, "I'm not gonna let you go. You're not leaving us. You're safe."

"Let me go!"

"No," Jared shook his head, "Not gonna happen. You can punch me or the tree or yell out to the sky or at my face and do whatever you want to do to let all of that anger, sadness and fear built up go, but you're not going to leave your home and your family."

"You're not my family and that's not my home! Let me go!"

Jared put you down but he was fast to grab the collar of your flannel, almost lifting you off the ground with how strong he gripped at it,

"We're not your family?" he asked. You couldn't tell if he was crying because of all the rain but you could hear it in his voice and in the way he looked at you, "Is that why Jensen showed up on my doorstep, crying, begging me on his knees to help me find you?" he asked, shaking your entire body when tugging at your hoodie, "Is that why both of us are out here in pouring rain, trying to find you? Is that why we are both scared to death and we thought that bitch kidnapped you? Is that what someone who hates you does? Or is it someone who cares and loves you?"

"You're not safe with me around!" you exclaimed,

"We don't give a flying fuck!" he shot back at you, "You're my niece, Jensen's daughter, and whatever shit comes your way we'll solve it together! Running away isn't going to fix anything. It's only going to break everything."

"I-I can't," you sobbed, looking down, "I-I'm not Jensen's daughter. I'm a nobody."

"Yeah? Tell me then, why he's out here now, desperately trying to find you? Because he despises you from the deepest parts of his soul? Y/N, he loves you. We all love you. I don't know how long it'll take you to figure it out but we don't want to hurt you or scare you. We want to give you everything you ever needed - love. And no matter how long it takes you to understand, we will be here all the same and we will love you all the same and prove you day to day that you're worth it and that you deserve it. You need to tell me one thing - did she take you?" you shook your head and Jared heavily leaned against one of the trees, looking up to the sky as he let out a sigh in relief, but still tightly holding the collar of your flannel, "Okay. That's honestly the best news I've heard tonight."

"Best news? I ran," you pointed out,

"You do not want to know what scenarios went through Jensen's head, through my head. We were so scared she took you, Y/N. We didn't know what to think."

"I can't stay around with everything that's happening."

"Do you love Jensen and Danneel? Me? The kids?"

"YES!" you yelled out, "And that's the exact reason I can't stay! I can't put you in danger! Jared, please. Let me go. Tell dad-tell Jensen that I'm okay, and that I have to go and just let me go. It's for the best."

"You can't win this one, munchkin. I can only think of how dark and twisted your mind is because I've never seen you as a runner but you did it. It must be so bad up there if you acted like this. But everything is fixable."

"Even if I do come back, they won't want me anymore. What's the point in going back then?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna ask you again - if they don't want you anymore, why am I here right now? If Jensen didn't care you think he'd be kneeling and begging me to help him find you? If he didn't care he would have let you go, which is the complete opposite of what he did. Munchkin, I know you never had anyone stand by your side, but you have to understand this - there isn't an outcome where you win this war that has you running away from home and people who love you and people who you love. I know you want to fight this one alone and I know you're capable and strong, but this isn't a war you can win by yourself. You need an ally and you have us. You with me?" you nod, looking up into his eyes, hair falling into his sight but you could see honesty in the way he looked at you, "How about we move out of here and let your dad know that you're safe?" you approached Jared carefully before climbing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck. He helped you by picking you up and squeezing you tightly, giving you one of his famous moose hugs as he carried you back to his car.

"Brother, she's gone," you gasped quietly at the vulnerability in Jensen's voice when he answered Jared's call, "I can't find her, that bitch took her I-"

"Brother, breathe. I found her," Jared cut him off and Jensen sobbed on the other end, "Our kid is fine. Soaking wet and scared of what's to come, but fine."

"Y/N, are-are you okay?" Jensen whispered, voice cracking,

"Yeah," you responded, hearing Jensen exhale loudly,

"I'll drive her over to you. Are you home?"

"Yeah, uh yeah. Didn't leave the car. I thought-I thought I was gonna tell Dee that-"

"Y/N is fine, Jensen. I'll be there in five. Do you trust me, brother?"

"With my life."

"Then trust me when I say I'm bringing your kid home."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now go tell Danneel. Meet you in the garage."

You stayed quiet for the entirety of the short conversation Jared had with Jensen. You were speechless. You didn't think Jensen was going to lose it as much as he did. Part of you thought he wouldn't even go looking for you. That part of you was definitely wrong though.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Jared spoke up, "I didn't mean it to come out that loud. I couldn't hear myself, with the rain and all. Did I scare you?" you shook your head,

"Not-not with talking. I-I thought you were going to kidnap me. I left my glasses back at Jensen's and I didn't make out your licence plate. I... I thought it was her."

"You didn't hear me calling your name?" he asked and you shook your head, "You were very scared. I kept calling your name but you didn't budge and then you jumped that tree and you were going to slip and fall and... I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm the one who's supposed to apologize."

"Not really," Jared shook his head, "In my mind, you got overwhelmed, scared, and in moment of vulnerability you acted out and thought running away was a good decision. You made a mistake but that's okay. We all make mistakes."

"Why do you love me?" you then asked, Jared smiling gently,

"Can you explain why you love people close to you?" you sat in silence, trying to put it into words but miserably failing, "See? We can't explain it. I can't explain it at least. You grew to me. You grew to Jensen. We just love you with all we have."

"What do you think will happen to me now?"

"Well you are first of all going to get two bone-crushing hugs. Then you'll actually take that shower you never took and you'll probably have a sleepover in Jensen's and Danneel's bedroom. Lots of talks. Jensen will be clingy for a while too."

"Why?"

"Because when something bad happens to someone he loves more than himself, he gets scared. He gets vulnerable to the point where he's clinging to the person and he's just... Scared. How I know? I've been with him when he was scared. I've been in his shoes too. And only thing you can do is reassure him that it won't happen again and be by his side. He needs that reassurance. I might use it too."

"I-I won't run away again," you said as Jared pulled into Jensen's driveway, "I promise."

"Even if you do, I'll find you," Jared smiled as he put the car into park, "We'll always come for you. But I choose to trust you and the promise you made."

The door on your side is swinging open and you're picked up by Jensen in no time. He's squeezing you tightly and you swore you felt Jensen sob as he leaned against Jared's car while he held you tightly. You couldn't do much but burrow your face into his shoulder and try your best not to cry as you grabbed the back of his soaked shirt.

"Brother, let's go inside," Jared's voice rang and it seemed to pull Jensen back to reality. He put you down but as soon as he did so, both his hands are cupping your cheeks and you're looking him in the eyes, red at the edges with so many emotions in them. You can't explain the feeling his look set off in you, but you could see how terribly you've screwed up.

Danneel is grabbing both yours and Jensen's hand and she's squeezing you for a side hug, Jensen getting the same treatment on the other side, as she walks you both into the house with Jared on your tail.

You're given a towel and a fresh set of clothes and you walk away to shower without a word.

You didn't know what to expect after you came out of the shower. The entire time you kept thinking of ways to apologize, but you knew no words could put together how bad you felt.

You were plain stupid to pull this thing off and you will probably never forgive yourself for doing this to everybody. You scared everyone because you were selfish, once again.

You finally understood that this war can't be won on your own. But would you find an ally in Jensen and his family now? In Jared, Misha? Would they look you in the eye after what you've done? More importantly, would you be able to look at them?

What you didn't expect when you opened the bathroom door was to find Jensen sitting on the floor right next to the door, back leaning against the wall. He looked up at you and your gut twisted and turned at all the pain you could read in his expression. He stood up and gently took your hand, leading you to the bedroom he shared with Danneel.

On the spare bench-bed in their room you had the full setup waiting for you. Your blankie, pillow, phone, the book you read, everything. You nod in thanking as Danneel sent you a soft smile. Jensen led you to the bench and sat you down on it before he leaned down and kissed your forehead. He smiled softly at you and you smiled back,

"I think it's best to stay close tonight," Danneel spoke up as she walked up to Jensen, "For all of us."

"Is Jared okay?" you asked,

"No rain can take out our favorite moose," Danneel responded, making you smile weakly, "I think we could use some sleep before talking about it all. How's that sound?" you nod, "But before that. Are you okay?" you nod again, looking down,

"I'm sorry for-"

"We're not asking that," Danneel cut you off, "All we care about right now is that you're okay."

Jensen didn't say a word. Instead, he leaned down to kiss the top of your head, Danneel doing the same. They made a few short steps to their bed while you laid down and watched as Jensen curled on his side and into Danneel's hold, the same way you curled into Jensen many times before. You grabbed your pillow, wrapping yourself around it and making yourself as small as possible as you squeezed it to your chest, burrowing your head into the blankie resting on your pillow.

You woke up to soft whimpers and it doesn't take you a lot to figure out where you are. You looked up to where Danneel and Jensen slept and found Danneel wide awake, shushing Jensen down. You gulped, standing up and walking over to their bed. Without a word you climbed onto what was supposed to be Jensen's side if he weren't absolutely squeezed against Danneel,

"He's got a nightmare," she said tiredly, "It's gonna take him a few minutes to ride it out."

"He has them often?" you asked and she shook her head, making you gulp,

"Only when he's really scared."

Only thing you thought of doing was plain stupid but it wouldn't hurt if you were going to do it.

You lifted your left hand and let it rest on his head, rubbing reassuring circles on it with your thumb. Danneel smiled,

"He does that to you, doesn't he?" she asked and you nod, "He does it to everyone he loves. It's his way of showing he cares deeply for you."

"I told him I were often hit in the head but his head rubs helped ease my headaches after nightmares. Didn't know it was his love language."

"It is. He's a very gentle soul. Even though he plays rough a lot."

"Outside world doesn't like gentle souls. You gotta stay rough out there if you want to stay alive."

"No seventeen year old should know that," Danneel frowned,

"I'm not your typical seventeen year old," you responded,

"I know that," she sighed, "Shhh sweetheart," she cooed as Jensen whimpered, still asleep, "It's just a bad dream. Everything is okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

You gulped, looking down. The way he curled up reminded you of yourself. You could only imagine what his nightmares were. Hell, for all you know, you were the exact reason he had them.

Your train of thoughts got delayed as Jensen sat up abruptly in bed, breathing ragged as he looked to his left, where you slept. You could see his back tense as he looked back to Danneel, his left hand pointing at the empty bench,

"She-She's gone, Dee she's missing she took her we never found her Dee I gotta find her I-"

"Jensen, I'm right here," you whispered, making him turn around completely to face you.

It took you a moment to get back from awe you were left in when you heard Jensen's voice, uttering those words you didn't expect to hear. But as soon as you realized how scared he was, you didn't hesitate to crawl up to where he sat, completely silent, and give him a tight hug he gladly took.

It took him a few minutes before he let you go. His eyes were glued on yours for a few more seconds before he laid back down and curled in Danneel's hold.

You didn't know if you were ever going to be able to fix what you've broken here.

You stayed in bed for a few more seconds, watching him cuddle up to Danneel. She looked up at you with a tired, honest smile. You pressed your lips in a line, remembering Jared's words.

Telling him that you're sorry won't fix it.

Doing something to prove him you're sorry and to prove him that you're grateful for him will maybe do a thing or two.

You tapped Jensen's shoulder gently. He rolled to his back and looked at you, eyes watery and vulnerable. You leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"I love you," were only words you could think of and as you said them stood up and went back to where you slept. You turned your back to face their bed and you tightly hugged your pillow.

You knew a stupid kiss on the cheek and a stupid I love you won't fix a single thing and it probably meant nothing to him. But you felt like it was the least you could do in that given moment.

Not even a minute later, you felt a finger tap your shoulder. You rolled onto your back and Jensen smiled softly at you, leaning to kiss your temple and whisper a soft "I love you too," before he walked back to bed.

You woke up again to the sound of Danneel's phone going off. You heard her talk to someone on the other end and you just grumbled as you turned around on the other side and it wasn't long before Danneel tapped your shoulder gently,

"Honey, I totally forgot the twins have a class party today and I was in charge of some treats. I'll go sort all of that out and I'll call our lawyer too to see when he can see us, since he has other clients as well. I'll let you know via text."

"Can I let him sleep in?" you whispered and Danneel smiled as she nod, "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," she kissed the top of your head, "Sit in our bed. It's a tad bit more comfortable than that bench. I'm outta here. See y'all later."

"Hey," Jensen whispered as he found you reading a book while seated in Danneel's spot, "Where's Dee?"

"Because of all the mayhem I made last night, she forgot the twins had a class party and she was supposed to bring treats and snacks so she went to do that and she'll let us-" you stopped talking as your phone vibrated, "Pardon, she just let me know that we will meet with your lawyer at 11AM and uh... Get me some family, I guess."

The smile Jensen let out felt like a huge relief, especially after all of the emotions showed last night. This smile gave you a slight hope that maybe someday this will be a rather bad memory for everyone involved.

"I'll go make us some breakfast," you said as you went to stand up from where you were seated, but Jensen gently grabbed your hand,

"Thanks for staying here last night," he whispered, "It meant a lot to me."

"I scared the living shit out of you. The least I could do is stay by your side when you were scared."

"Yet that's exactly what you refuse when you're scared," Jensen smiled sadly at you and you looked down,

"You made me a promise," you whispered, finding courage to look up to Jensen, "Months ago. That as long as you're around, nobody will hurt me. I think I should make you a promise too."

"Kiddo, you don't have to-"

"I promise you to never run away on you again. Never, ever leave you again. Last night it finally clicked for me and I let myself truly believe in you. Up until last night I was waiting for the moment where you're going to up and leave me. Hell, I was pushing your buttons and trying to make you do that multiple times too. Last night I realized that you're not here to hurt me and that I can trust you, no bullshit. The mere fact that you were outside last night, looking for me, was enough for me to understand that you weren't doing everything you've been doing out of pity. And when I heard you last night... Jensen, she didn't take me. I ran. It was just me. Me and my stupid brain."

"Tell me one thing," he said, "Did your heart stay on the other end? On the end where you wanted to stay here and not leave?" you nod and he smiled,

"Then we're good. You unfortunately got hurt so many times before because you followed your heart and you had to grow out of that habit. But you've been following your heart recently, and I assure you that you're never going to be hurt by any of us for following what's in there," he smiled softly, "You scared me. Big time. But knowing that your heart was here this whole time makes it easier for me."

"I know I scared you. I scared Dee too. Jared... I don't think I'm ever going to forgive myself for doing this. That's why I'm making you a promise to never leave you again. And I know it's nothing but it's a start. I'll prove you that I meant what I promised."

"You've got nothing to prove. Your heart was here last night, wanting to stay home. That's enough proof for me that you want to be here. Even that smart brain up there must have entertained the thought too, but it had to think more rational. I know it'll take a lot of time to get used to it and sometimes you'll feel like you're not welcome and your feelings will get the best of you, but as I promised - as long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Physically and emotionally."

"Do you still want me here?" you asked, a little unsure, "After the stunt I pulled last night?"

"Yes. You belong here. And mistakes will be made but we're all human and we make mistakes. And no matter how stupid those stunts you pull were or will be, I'll still love you," he smiled, sitting up to give you a tight hug you gladly took, "Let's get ready. Dee's gonna kill us if we're late."

A/N 2: Thanks for reading! And thanks @crasmuna for being my consultant and for being my biggest support 💚

#jackles #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x daughter!reader #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #supernatural #spn fanfiction

[nonsubstantial]

MARCH 2024 DIARY POST

I'm keeping up the habit of writing a monthly post to catalogue all the things I've been obsessed with in 2024. At the end of the year, I want to be able to look back and remember what was making me happy all year long! If you are reading this, I hope you will enjoy hearing about these things or checking them out too! First, a chaotic collage of those things!

VIDEO GAME: As you may already know, Splatoon is probably my favorite video game franchise of all time. I really cannot overstate how important it is to me. Naturally, I was highly anticipating its new singleplayer DLC, titled Side Order, but when it finally came out at the end of February, my elbow was fractured in a way that made it painful for me to play. So, I had to wait until about a week into March for my elbow to heal a little. Then, I spent about 10 hours obsessively playing it, and I loved pretty much every second of it. It featured by far the most difficult levels ever seen in a Splatoon game, which was a treat to me as a player who was disappointed by the rather simplistic story mode of the base game. Splatoon 3: Side Order took the form of a roguelite battle tower, similar to Salmon Run but with new enemies, unique (and sometimes puzzling) stages, and customizable weapon builds. Even players who find it a bit too challenging at first can eventually mod the difficulty to an extent that (hopefully) makes it doable. The story was nothing crazy, but the gameplay and visuals were so unbelievably good that I honestly wished I could erase it all from my mind and play it again from the start. Just yay 💕, I love Splatoon so much.

TWITCH STREAM FAN EDIT: If you don't already know who Jerma is, he is a prolific video game streamer that I became a big fan of a few years ago. His unique humor has consistently impressed and appealed to me, and his fan community has proven itself to be both creative enough and motivated enough to persistently churn out edited “best of” versions of his streams. For better or for worse, Jerma announced his retirement from streaming last year, leaving his eager fans with nothing but his earlier content to dredge for, well… content. One such fan edit that was released this year, post-retirement, was a massive compilation of all his Nancy Drew playthroughs (save for one). This edit in particular was one that I found overwhelmingly funny and good, and it inspired an ongoing fanfic that I’m still currently working on writing. Oddly enough, watching this caused a domino effect that got me back into writing in general and has given me the surge of confidence and inspiration that I needed to keep working on creating the fiction that has lived inside in my head for years. I really hope this feeling never dies. You can watch the stream that inspired me, linked here!

MUSICAL ARTIST: Peach Kelli Pop is probably tied (with a few other artists) for the title of my favorite band of all time. Their entire discography is only about 2 hours long, but they were still my most listened to artist for several years in a row. It’s due to the consistency of the vibe across all of her work: upbeat and positive while still delivering a profound emotional impact. I've been able to just listen her entire catalog of music over and over and over again on shuffle. I might describe it as DIY rock, or feminist punk, and if you haven't heard it before, Gentle Leader is probably the best album to start with. Listen here!

MUSICAL ARTIST: After listening to nothing except Peach Kelli Pop for about a week straight, I started to look into similar bands that I hadn't already checked out and found one that really caught my interest. That's how I was introduced to Tacocat! Their band name is both a palindrome and euphemism, and their album Lost Time was love at first listen. They have cozy lyrics about aliens, birth control, and creating your own values, and their music has left me in a good mood every time I've thrown it on. You can listen to the first song that I heard, linked here!

SONG: It's Don’t Rain On My Parade, by Barbra Streisand!! I still haven't watched the musical that this song is from, but the drag queen Plasma mentioned it on RuPaul Season 16, which is how I ended up hearing it. This song gets an individual mention because I was absolutely blown away by this one individual track! It's brilliant and catchy right out of the gate, "Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter! Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade!" It's from 1964, but its recording sounds crystal clear and it channels its intended emotions perfectly. I felt compelled to listen to it over and over again, because it really is just so cheerful and artistically inspiring. I feel like it's a perfect piece of music. Listen here!

SONG: I have to give another song an individual mention! It's Mood Indigo, by Nina Simone!! I’ve been a big fan of Nina Simone for years now, but more often than not, I've stuck to my favorite album, Pastel Blues. I did branch out and listen to this song a few times in the past, but it only recently dawned on me just how perfect it is. Wikipedia says that it was recorded in 1964, about the same time as Don’t Rain On My Parade, and while it's technically a cover of an old Duke Ellington song, Nina Simone’s version has a totally unique vibe, evident from the first few bars. Its lyrics are meant to be cathartic, as they discuss suicidal ideation, while the drums, bass, and piano create a beautiful and upbeat swing melody that perfectly juxtaposes and rebuts the content of Nina’s vocals. It's menacing, catchy, uplifting, and truly perfect! I now believe it to be a landmark in Nina Simone’s career, and the whole of music history in general. Listen here!

MUSICAL ARTIST: Okay, one last music rec, I swear!! I was really feeling the vibes this month (but mostly just listening to bands that I already know and love). Along with Peach Kelli Pop, another one of my favorite bands is King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard. Ever since 2017 (aka, the year of the gizz) they have probably reigned supreme as my #1 most listened to band. They just have so much music, with so much variation, that I can usually find at least one of their songs that appeals to me. Since the start of this year, I've been collecting and organizing a playlist of my favorite songs by them, titled 31 Days Of Gizz. Not for any particular reason, but just because I find it fun to make lists! At the last minute, I decided that I would organize the songs, specifically in the way that I would play them if I were introducing someone new to the band. So, if you haven’t heard their music before, maybe it’s time I introduced you? But no pressure, I just like their songs and I made my playlist just for me! I'm linking to it on spotify, HERE, if you’re interested! (forgot to put this one on the collage, lol)

VIDEO GAME: Right before the month ended, I bought the new fantasy tactics game, Unicorn Overlord, and I am fucking in love. I’ve been a longtime fan of the fantasy tactics genre, so as soon as this game started making waves, I begrudgingly accepted that I HAD to play it. I really don’t have a lot of time in between trying to take care of things at home and working on my writing, as I mentioned before, but I briefly dropped all my other hobbies and managed to fit about 10 hours of gameplay in before the month ended. I really wish I had time to obsess over it, because I feel like it is a masterpiece, even if the rumors about there being gay content ended up being a disappointing exaggeration (the game was developed by Vanillaware, but was published by homophobic giants ATLUS and SEGA, so I’m not surprised). Despite the story being pretty much dog shit though, I believe the gameplay is damn near perfect, and even revolutionary within its genre. I’ll probably be sinking all my game time into it until the new Elden Ring DLC drops. If you’re a person who also likes fantasy tactics, then I highly recommend playing it (I got it for the Nintendo Switch, where it seems to run perfectly).

(that’s it. It is now APRIL!! There might be some repeats this next month, or I'll leave them out... we'll see. Hope you have a good day! ♡)

#personal #2024 reviews #2024 #march #splatoon #jerma #peach kelli pop #tacocat #don't rain on my parade #mood indigo #king gizzard #unicorn overlord

[dramaticweathergirl]

HAM DAN-I! YUU

(i wrote this in like one go so forgive the shitty quality lmao)

Imagine if yuu is someone in our world who read dozens of cringe reverse harem novels/mangas and played countless school-based otome games.

Meaning, if they suddenly woke up in a school filled with strong pretty boys; they knows what's up.

*realizes that they've been isekaid into a magical school with otherworldly hot students, and they're the only magicless student here. they're the MC*

Yuu: ......wait.....HELL NO I'VE SEEN THIS DAMN PLOT MULTIPLE TIMES

They probably saw how Ace treated them and immediately thought he's the bad boy type who bullied the MC at first but softened and sometimes actually become a tolerance guy over time.

Yuu: *Cringe badboy male lead flashbacks* we're leaving...Now

Grim: what?! You can't just let this mop head insult us like that!

Yuu: I've seen er- met this type of weirdos a few times in my life and i rather not associate myself with them...or any student in this school in general.

They still ended up charring the queen of hearts statue and destroying the chandelier that day lmao.

They don't want to interact with anyone other than Grim and the Ghosts their first day as janitors in fear of creating a domino effect and getting themselves bounded by whatever plot this world has, making it impossible for them to return home.

Yuu immediately contradicted herself by becoming friends with the Adeuce combo since their life threatening encounter with the blot monster in the mines lol. (Of course there's gonna be some almost death situations caused by the universe to force them to bond with the others)

OMG you know that scene when Dan-i called Ruda a monster in hopes of pushing him away 💀💀

That, but with Mallues

"i..i shouldn't tell you my name. For you may finally see me as a monster like others d-"

"yeah, you do look like a monster"

"...pardon?"

"but just a normal looking monster though, not the strange scary ones you see on the TV and you look actually look kinda cool for a monster"

"..."

Yuu in her mind: I called you a monster right? Fucking glare at me like im the filthiest dirt in this planet and never want to see me face ever again.

"pfft, how amusing"

"yeah tha- WAIT WHAT"

"this is the first time someone directly called me a monster right at my face"

Yuu in her mind: FUCK! ABORT! ABORT!

"ahahaha is that so? Oh gosh would you look at the time gotta go haha..."

#twisted wonderland x mc #twst yuu au #twst yuu #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst au #twst drabble

[phobia-sweets]

Okay, so how would different villains react to a vigilante reader doing this to them in the middle of a fight

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRbq6LVV/

Also I absolutely adore your fic and writing, please and thank you, and have an amazing day

used the freedom of getting to choose myself to practice writing music meister :3

(also im glad(?) to inform you i got that video on my fyp like two hours after getting this request lmao)

OH AND THANKYOU THAT MEANS A LOT i hope you also have a good day!!!

General! Music Meister & Firefly x reader

Warnings & Notes: None?? i got carried away w firefly, not proofread (reader is a bit dumb at the end of firefly's part lmao)

MUSIC MEISTER

During your time as a vigilante, you had learned to always bring earplugs wherever you went, just in case if you bumped into him.

“You do know your trick doesn’t work on me, right?” You chuckled, adjusting your domino mask. The music meister – or Darius, had taken control of the Gotham city opera house, where the both of you currently were. Luckily for you there were no civilians present when he took control – except for some guards, Who had left – leaving you alone with him.

“One of these days, you will be the one to do my bidding” he started, “It’ll be just a matter of time.”

Now, technically taking care of him without anyone to control should be easy, but you didn’t really want to hurt him. But then again, What were the chances there actually were people there being controlled, but just hiding, waiting for you to attack? You wouldn’t put it past him to plan that, he was quite smart. “Why won’t you just be good for once and give up voluntarily?” You suggested, and was met with him chuckling. “If you won’t, I still have a card up my sleeve.”

“Oh?”

You walked closer to him, To which he didn’t react – planning something? Were you playing into a plan he had in his head? Fuck it, you already started going through with this, may as well go for it. You were maybe a meter away from him when you practically jumped up to him, placing a kiss on his lips. He made a sound of surprise, eyes wide as he looked at you, a sweet red creeping up to his cheeks.

Then you handcuffed him. “Sorry, Darius.”

GARFIELD LYNNS

Adding a cape to your uniform was one of the purely aesthetic choices you made. In your defense, capes were really cool. Unfortunately, They could be very inconvenient when they got stuck. Especially when there was a specific pyromaniac trying to immolate you. Trying to pull your cape from under some barrels that had fallen, you heard him -

“There’s going to be nothing but ash left when I’m done with you!” Firefly yelled, sharply inhaling as he landed a few feet away from you and adjusting his grip on his flamethrower. You turned to quickly look at your utility belt, spotting the butterfly knife on its usual spot. Turning to face Firefly, you sighed,

“We’re not done yet.” You straightened your back, watching as he walked closer. You took the knife, making sure he didn’t see it and starting to cut your cape off.

He laughed. “You will burn with gotham tonight-”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me that quite a few times already.” You interrupted him, and regretted it almost immadietly when you felt the warmth of the flames from the flamethrower come dangerously close as he fired it for just a second.

“Any last words, hero?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, “before I melt your face off?”

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Heh heh, Too bad.” He laughed. You needed time. You knew that. If you didn’t find a way to either keep him talking or catch him off guard, you’d be as good as dead.

“Wouldn’t you prefer a nice slow burn over an explosion?” You questioned, Motioning to the barrels of… What ever was in them. You didn’t know, but it probably wouldn’t mix well with fire.

He stopped. Probably considering whether to blow you up or burn you. You cut the last bit of fabric off of your cape, free to move. Lunging towards Firefly, you pushed away his flamethrower, one risk taken care of. Now you just had to restrain him. You needed to catch him offguard. So you almost instinctively tried to place a kiss on his lips, but was met with the cold surface of his helmet. But hey, it worked. He stumbled backwards and you seized the opportunity to tackle him to the ground and tie his hands together.

“I could’ve taken my helmet off for that, hot stu-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

#music meister x reader #darius chapel x reader #firefly x reader #garfield lynns x reader