#tis a three-parter

[demonprodigy-kingofsheep]

Lost in the cityscape, where I try to find you (part 1)

Dedicated to @originalartblog aka Nawy. Thank you for your arts, Nawy, I hope you know I come back to your teen skk everytime I have a rough day, for they cheer me up immensely.

Day 1 

It had been mere minutes since eighteen year old Nakahara Chuuya had landed at the airport after a month-long mission in the west. And already, he had been assigned to his next one. 

He stared at his driver incredulously through the rear view mirror of this newly purchased sleek red Mercedes, his fist tightening on the cream leather armrest. 

“What do you mean Dazai has gone missing?”

The driver gave him an apologetic look. “I personally don’t know much about it, but Hirotsu-san asked me to pass on this message to you as soon as you arrived. The boss requests that you find Dazai-san immediately and try to bring him back to the headquarters. The Black Lizard unit is too occupied with a scuffle involving another organization, but either way, the Boss said that he trusts only you to find him.” 

Chuuya frowned. Dazai going missing without a trace? Mori needing a word with him? This seemed a bit sketchy. Dazai might be lazy, but he was not the type to leave the mafia without any kind of intimation.  

As a reflex, he automatically dialed Dazai’s number. His partner had some explaining to do.  

“Bastard, pick it up,” he growled into his phone as it gave up after a series of full rings. Three times he had dialed Dazai and was met with silence, as if he was a world away. With a short huff, he slipped his phone inside the pocket of his black jeans. 

Well, it wasn’t like that stupid guy answered his calls out of their missions anyway.

But still, he felt something off about it. “Stop near the headquarters and get down,” he told his confused driver. “I’ll take this car by myself.” 

“But- but it’s my job to-” 

“To listen to what I say. It’s my own car anyway, not the Mafia’s.” Chuuya softened his tone, “This mission might be too dangerous for you. Leave it to me and go help someone else.”

It was a lie. Searching for Dazai wasn’t supposed to be that difficult of a task, but he wanted to do that alone. Having unnecessary inputs from anyone would distract his intuition, and he wanted to focus to get this mission done soon. 

The driver brought into his lie, though. After all, Chuuya did have a reputation of taking on the most dangerous missions. “Alright, as you wish,” he said. 

Once the Chuuya got into the driver’s seat, he snapped on his seatbelts and drove straight to his destination, one that he knew existed but had never actively paid a visit before. “I’m gonna break his phone into pieces using his thick skull,” he grumbled as he steered using one hand, another checking the reception for a signal tracker in his phone. “It’s not like he needs it after all.” 

Chuuya’s trip to the landfill that Dazai lived in was effortlessly smooth, thanks to his top-class luxury sedan. He had been more than happy to switch over to driving his own car recently rather than rely on the Mafia’s compromised chauffeur service, especially after the whole Verlaine incident. As a treat for surviving yet another year in the mafia, he had flipped through a few catalogs and splurged on the most expensive car in the showroom. 

But now he had to step out of it, and the stench of the toxic dumping ground hit his nose like a truck. However, being a person who was used to stenches worse than that, he strode towards a lonely blue shipping container lit by the sun in the middle of an abandoned ground- the shipping container that Dazai called his home. 

“Oi, Dazai,” Chuuya bellowed as he kicked the flimsy door open, “Stop ignoring me!” 

The door fell off its hinges, its thud echoing throughout the empty darkness inside. Chuuya reached for the table lamp- guided by the pale, feeble light of the sun that streaked in through the gaping hole where the door had stood- and pulled on its cord, switching it on. 

This was the first time he saw the condition Dazai lived in, and to say the least, he was shocked. An amber light threw the entire “room” into visibility. A desk stood, stacked with paper, the bed was bare and unmade with nothing but a thin blanket that probably did nothing against the cold. The room was bare, as soulless as the person who lived in it. 

Chuuya faintly recalled Kouyou telling him how the environment a person lived in would be reflective of their personality. No wonder Dazai was depressed. Just standing in the room for a few seconds made Chuuya so claustrophobic that he wanted to puke. 

What on earth was Dazai even thinking, living in a place like this? 

However, there was no time to ponder over that. A good look around told him Dazai had clearly not been in the room for a while. He rummaged through the drawers- which were mostly empty except for a few handy tools- and the fridge, which was just stacked with canned crabs and sake. Chuuya grimaced. He grabbed a sheaf of paper and scanned through their contents. It was handwritten, by Dazai himself, something about some ‘Mimic’ and singularities. The rest of his handwriting was almost illegible, marred through criss-crossing lines and dots and more frustrated scribbling. 

Chuuya confiscated those sheets. Despite the fact that only Mori might be able to decipher it, he judged it to be either a valuable clue to Dazai’s destination, or classified documents that risked discovery if they were here in Dazai’s absence. 

A small beep from his phone made him look back. His phone picked up a strong signal from Dazai's transmitter, emitting from a location near the port. All the people in the mafia had transmitters implanted within them, for others to keep an eye out, for easy contact, and for bringing back bodies. 

Dazai’s transmitter was still working. 

Chuuya got into his car once again, chucked the bundle of papers in the back and twisted the key. “Wonder what ditch he had crawled into this time…” he murmured as he made his way, full speed, towards the location on the map. 

The place Dazai’s transmitter sent signals from was down Yokohama Harbor. Ships were docked in a line, and the road traffic lessened due to noon. Chuuya parked his car and walked over to the area where the light pulsed in his phone, only to look up and see no one. The wooden platform next to the sea was empty, the fountain at the other side gurgling an empty song. His eyes scanned the nearby area till they landed on a dustbin. 

“Oh, no way,” he cursed as he walked over, imagining Dazai’s wretched face laughing at him, as he peeked into the depths of the bin. 

A smear of dried blood and a microchip lay buried amidst the tobacco stumps and crumpled paper cups. 

Chuuya straightened and turned around, facing the wooden sidewalk and stainless steel railing that marked the start of the endless sea ahead. 

For a second, a horrible thought settled into his mind. 

What if…?

“No,” he said aloud to himself, firmly refusing to entertain even the possibility of that intrusive thought. “He’s alive. I know it. Cockroaches like him don’t die so easily.” 

As if that lit a spark of denial within him, Chuuya looked around for a place to continue his investigation further. Fortunately, there was a stall selling boba tea not far away. While Chuuya was personally an espresso guy, he needed that information, plus he was hungry, so there was no time to be picky. 

He strode to the stall and sat in one of the four chairs placed under an umbrella to shade him from the sun. The boy who ran the stall seemed quite happy to have a customer, for most of his potential customers were flocking to a new, air-conditioned stall nearby in the sweltering afternoon. 

Chuuya didn’t even bother scanning through the menu. “Fix me up with whatever you’ve got the best,” he told the young boy, who looked perplexed but still nodded. Maybe he had never seen a customer act this way before. 

As the boy was preparing his tea, Chuuya seized the opportunity to ask questions. 

“Do you work here everyday?” 

The young boy tilted his head. “Since the past week, yes. Couldn’t afford to pay fees for my professional swimming classes, so took this up as a part-time.”

“I see. So how’s your day going on?”

“Same old, same old. Winter has begun and there’s more crowd as the sun sets, so evenings are a little hectic.” 

“Did you notice anything interesting recently? Anyone acting… a little off? Trying to jump into the ocean or something?” 

The boy looked at him startled, almost dropping the cup he was about to hand Chuuya. “Do you mean, like, committing suicide?” he asked, eyes widening. “Did they find any bodies around here?” 

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just thought a scene like that might make a job like this more eventful.” 

A part of Chuuya was mildly relieved, but he knew it was child’s play for Dazai to slip away from the eyes of the crowd whenever he desired, so it was still not out of the question. Chuuya took the flask from him, reached into his wallet, and slapped a stack of money around ten times the price of the boba tea he brought.

“S-Sir,” the boy looked like he was about to faint, “This is too much-” 

“Do me a favor, will you?” Chuuya said nonchalantly as he walked away towards the direction of his car. “I’ll be back in a few days. If you see a person wrapped in an ungodly amount of bandages, just let me know.” 

—

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, with Chuuya making a quick trip to almost all of the Port Mafia bases scattered throughout Yokohama and inquiring about Dazai's whereabouts. As expected, no one had seen him since the past few days. But Chuuya did collect information about some events that had happened when he was absent, about a mafia underdog named Sakunosuke Oda who had apparently been dispatched to finish off the leader of an enemy organization named Mimic in exchange for the government recognizing Port Mafia as a legitimate, licenced gifted organization. Certainly a win for their side, despite the loss of life that occurred during the strife, including that of Oda’s. While this made sense of the papers he found at Dazai’s place, what he did not understand, however, was if the incident was related to Dazai and his disappearance from the Mafia. 

Every lead was a dead end. It was frustrating, and Chuuya did not know what to make of the whole situation. 

By midnight, he had exhausted all his immediate options in and around the city. Feeling heavy to the bone, he parked his car and dragged himself to a local bar, hoping that a bottle of whiskey would be enough to drown the day and all that came with it. He slumped into a chair next to the bartender and automatically placed his order, barely registering the words in his own head. His thoughts echoed a million questions; his feelings, about as composed as a rowboat tossed into the middle of an ocean tempest. 

For three years now, he had wished and hoped a day would come when he and Dazai no longer needed to work as partners. The day when their intertwined fates would finally branch out into different directions. That day, he thought, would be the best day of his life. 

Now that the day seemed to be here, he was a mess.

As the bartender placed his drink in front of him, one question screamed the loudest through the recesses of his brain. 

Is he truly gone for good this time? 

Chuuya paused, the drink halfway towards his lips. A beat of silence later, he dared to think of one more. 

Am I truly free? 

His eyes widened, lips now parted in the stark realization of the situation he found himself in. 

Through the rush of anxiety and the stream of concern at the thought of Dazai lying dead in a ditch somewhere, he felt- to his utter horror- a twisted sense of relief. 

No one will ever see through Chuuya as clearly as Dazai did. No one will predict his movements with such accuracy, plot insidious plans that assert control over him, dig into Chuuya’s past as a man-made vessel for a god, torment him with childish pranks, drive him into a fury with just their mere existence. 

It also meant he could never use Corruption again. Not unless he was willing to die.  

While that was technically a loss for the organization, it was nothing but another tick in a list of wins for Chuuya. He hated using Corruption- to give up control of himself to an otherworldly entity with no mercy towards friend or foe, relying solely on Dazai to bring him back and keep him alive, suffering from internal bleeding so bad that it took weeks for him to heal. 

Never again. 

A choked laugh bubbled up his throat. He downed the whiskey with trembling hands, slammed the glass on the counter, and looked up at the bartender. “Gimme a bottle of the most expensive wine in your collection,” he declared. “Tonight is a night to celebrate.” 

The dim amber lights across the bar lulled him into a state where he could see past memories playing in front of his eyes in weirdly high definition. He remembered all the times he had cursed Dazai, telling him that he hoped that he’d die so that Chuuya would never have to look at his wretched face again. 

How did he feel about his curses coming true? 

Well, he only realized he had never really meant them in the first place after all. 

Shame creeped into him for the words he had just uttered as the bartender placed a brown bottle of wine carefully on the counter. “A rare Petrus, 89,” the bartender said, “I hope it fits the special occasion.”

Chuuya had swiped his card and curled his fingers around its cool neck when the hair on the back of his neck stood as he picked up the shockwave- right before the sound of an explosion rang out right outside the bar. 

Like everyone else, Chuuya involuntarily ducked under the table, hand covering his head as he did, but he was the first to recover. Noticing that their lives weren’t in immediate danger, he grabbed the nearest thing that could double as an extra weapon- the bottle of wine- and rushed out to meet the culprit, only to be greeted with the shattered, smoldering remains of his brand new luxury sedan. 

Head swimming and ears ringing, Chuuya slowly approached what was left of his car. A single tire rolled towards him, bumping his leg before tumbling flat on the ground. 

Chuuya stared at the tire for a long time, nostrils filled with smoke, barely registering the chaos around him. Never before had he felt this exhausted, ashamed, frustrated, and defeated in his life. 

So he simply sat down on the broken tire, ripped the seal of the vintage Petrus, pulled open the cork using his teeth, and chugged down the hideously expensive wine right out of the bottle as he watched his car burn. 

It was truly a celebration of a new low. 

—

#Ao3 was down so I posted this here #just Chuuya wallowing in misery #canon compliant #post dark era #Chuuya after Dazai leaves the Mafia #Chuuya is… working on his feelings #he’ll get there eventually #when will Chuuya finally snap challenge #place your bets #angst #angst no comfort #skk #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd #skk fanfic #soukoku fanfic #tis a three-parter #which means more chuuya angst coming up!!! #I just don't know when lol

[thesoftboiledegg]

"Unmortricken" was a lot. In fact, it might have been a little too much.

To start, I loved the glimpse of what exists outside the Central Finite Curve. The visuals were stunning and reminded me of M.C. Escher's drawings. The Jetson-like family was a nice touch--if anything can happen, who says they can't have different animation styles? All those colorful portals make me wonder what's lurking just out of sight.

It's also funny that the space outside the Curve is full of Rick's favorite thing: crystals. If he took a trip there, he'd come back with his pockets stuffed with gemstones.

Evil Morty's reappearance gave us a decent character study. Since he wasn't the antagonist, we saw him interact with the C-137s as a regular person. Morty's a little impressed, and Rick has a grudging respect for him. Others have called Evil Morty the Rickest Morty, and I agree: similar intelligence, similar technology and similar bloodthirst.

I was glad that he left in the end because that's what his character arc is about anyway. He doesn't want to be part of anyone else's story, not even another Morty's.

However, that's also part of the issue that I had with this episode. Seeing Evil Morty was great, but it was also a little...pointless? You could've had the same story without him. He's not working with Prime, and he has no ties to C-137 after "Rickmurai Jack," so it felt like the writers just said "Hey, you know what would be cool?"

I'm not against writers having fun and giving the audience what they want. "Spider-Man: No Way Home" (yeah, groan at me, Marvel haters) is fan service in blockbuster form, and it was one of the best theater experiences I've ever had.

Still, if Evil Morty came back, I think he should've had a separate episode. The episode juggled C-137 Rick, Morty, Evil Morty and Prime Rick pretty well, giving them satisfying interactions with each other, but no Evil Morty would've meant more relationship development for the C-137s.

Evil Morty's backstory also didn't reveal much about him. I mean--yeah, we all figured that he had an abusive Rick and got fed up. The fact that he had a "regular" Rick instead of a deranged lunatic does make a point about the banality of abuse. Monsters aren't always raving maniacs who torture people in their basements. Ordinary people can wear you down with a slow drip of toxicity and neglect.

I enjoyed this episode, and Evil Morty's return was exciting, but cramming the series' two biggest antagonists and storylines into twenty minutes was a little overwhelming. New plot developments kept showing up, too: Rick found Prime! Prime's various lairs! Omega device! I would've preferred a two-parter.

I'll admit that if you told me that we'd see Evil Morty and Rick Prime in the same shot, I never would have believed you, but here we are.

On that note, Prime's characterization was perfect. No attempt at a cutesy, sad backstory; he's a laughing monster until the end. And is it really the end? He has regeneration abilities, but C-137 acts like he's dead and even gives up the search. This leaves us with a few options:

C-137 killed him.

Prime fooled C-137 into thinking that he's dead when he isn't.

C-137's keeping him alive for later use.

Hopefully, this is more complicated than it looks because I'll be disappointed if this is the end of Prime. He's a brilliant reflection of C-137: the Rick he'd be without his tiny shred of humanity.

And Prime's a maniac, but he tells C-137 the truth. Rick broke into Prime's house. He pretended he belonged with this group of strangers. He latched on to Prime's grandson because he never had his own. His brutal, violent streak never went away no matter how long he tried to play house.

Prime says "Admit it! You would have been me!" In season three and parts of season four, Rick was close. His love for his family--love that he pretended he didn't have--and desire for their approval just barely pulled him back. But what kept that spark alive? How close was he to becoming a cold, unfeeling shell?

In the end, C-137's not satisfied after he destroys Prime--and weirdly, I'm not satisfied, either. Beating Prime to an unrecognizable pulp doesn't bring Rick's original family back. It doesn't erase the atrocities that Rick's committed. It doesn't make his grief go away. It doesn't change the fact that Rick teetered on the edge of turning into the monster that he despised.

What's more satisfying is that Rick didn't turn out like Prime. His Morty doesn't give two shits about Prime, but he loves him. He hugs him in relief (come on, Rick, hug him back already!), cries out "Rick? Rick!" and shakes his body when he thinks he's dead, and talks excitedly as they return home.

Rick's going to therapy, which Prime would have mocked. He went from having nobody to living with FIVE kids if you count Morty and Summer. Even he and his Jerry are pretty tight.

Rick knows this, but he still feels empty all the time. Vengeance doesn't work, drinking doesn't work...wouldn't it be easier if he just switched off his humanity and laughed at everything, even his own death?

But now that he knows how it feels to be loved, especially by his hypothetical grandson, I think he'll always find himself at the Smiths' doorstep.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #prime rick #weird rick #rick prime #evil morty #boy that's quite the collection of tags #unmortricken #season seven #review

[badasbebi]

the cupid project ➛ 1/2

part two

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you and your long-term work crush devise a plan to win a company contest. in the end, you wind up going to extreme lengths to commit to the bit

✦ genre/au: fluff, fake dating, videographer reader, bada's extra sweet here, slight friends to lovers

✦ word count: 7k

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. another unrealistic meet cute that doesn't really make sense. smut in part 2

✦ a/n: another two-parter simply bc my fics are too long. 2nd part is finished and will, again, be posted soon (literally tomorrow). didnt put as much thought into this one as I have with my other stories, which will probably be a pattern from now. still think its fun. enjoy!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

"It's been three minutes. Why are we still waiting on people?" Youngj fusses, running his fingers through his hair, tousling it

"Relax, Jae. You called us here last-minute. People are busy," Minho says from where he is sitting, scrolling through his phone.

Youngj's eyes snap to him. "Too busy for an emergency meeting with their boss?" He retorts, raising an eyebrow. 

Minho looks at him, then shrugs. "Well, that's what happens when you hire a bunch of ultra-talented, sought-after dancers. We don't need you," He finishes, swiftly turning back around, sunglasses concealing his eyes. 

Youngj gapes for a second, then seemingly surrenders, slouching back in his chair with a scowl. 

Meanwhile, you're balancing a camera lens in your hand on the sofa across from them, twisting and turning the machinery in your hand as you stifle your laughter. Still being somewhat new to the team, you weren't sure if you necessarily had the right to take part in Minho's teasing. You became an employee at JustJerk Dance Academy only six months ago, after JustJerk announced that they were looking for new hires. However, you weren't a part of their star-studded lineup of top choreographers and instructors. Instead, you were hired to be a videographer and photographer, working behind the scenes to ensure that every breathtaking move, every impassioned sequence, and every dancer was captured flawlessly. 

Which, it was not like it was very hard. The people here were phenomenal enough as it was, making your time spent at work nothing less than a blessing for someone who's long watched dancers from the sidelines. Even better, the members of JustJerk Dance Academy aren't just a group of talented dancers, but also a lovely group of people. They're kind and caring, often inviting you out to eat after a long day of filming or helping you with the things you struggled with. Sometimes, you still got awestruck around them because it was such a far cry from what you were used to. But, it was beginning to feel like home. And, as the days went by, everyone started to feel more and more like family.

Well, almost everyone.

Suddenly, you hear the doors swing open and glance up to see who's arrived.

"Sorry I'm late," A voice rings throughout the room, revealing none other than the legend herself, Bada Lee. 

Even after having passed by her a million times, the woman never failed to take your breath away. She was gorgeous and had an allure unlike anyone else, with a presence that seemed to shift the energy in every room she entered. In other words, she was also intimidatingly cool, which led to you frequently avoiding her because you were, simply, terrified. Though she's always been nothing but sweet and brilliant during your brief interactions, this kindness almost made things worse. It'd be much easier to disregard her if she was an asshole. Unluckily for you, she was one of the most charming people you've encountered in your life, making it nearly impossible to ignore the magnetic pull that's been causing an increasing amount of debauched thoughts and dreams. 

Bada walks toward the rest of the group with an apologetic smile on her face. Her long, black and blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and her baggy clothes were noticeably wrinkled, suggesting that she came straight from practice. Despite her slightly disheveled appearance, she looked as enticing as ever. 

You avert your gaze and continue playing with the camera equipment in your hands, attempting to appear nonchalant. 

"What happened? You're never late," Youngj asks, sitting upright. 

"I was helping one of my students out with a routine and got a little distracted. Sorry," Bada explains with a pout, sitting down on a separate couch next to yours. You keep your eyes on the camera in your hands.

"Don't worry about it, I just need everyone's attention for a few moments," Youngj says, scanning the room. "Is this everyone?"

"No, Redllic should be coming in soon. She was right behind me," Bada says, looking over at the door.

Your eyebrow inadvertently quirks up at the sound of Redllic's name escaping her lips. 

"Good enough, then. Let's get started," Youngj leans forward in his seat, clapping his hands together. "I want to first apologize to all of you for calling you here so abruptly. Unfortunately, this was the only time I had to get you all here together.”

Everyone eagerly waits for him to speak, the air thick with curiosity as Youngj takes a deep breath, his gaze shifting from one person to another.

"So, to clarify, I didn't call you guys here for anything particularly important."

Minho laughs bitterly. "I fucking knew it."

Youngj gives him a pointed look before continuing. "There's a special event that the company is holding and I wanted to inform all of you about it in-person, because even though it isn’t anything to worry about, it is admittedly a bit...unusual for us."

"What is it?" Redllic asks, appearing out of thin air. Everyone, except for Bada, jumps slightly, surprised by her sudden arrival.

"Redllic!" Youngj says, placing a hand on his heart. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Oh, sorry," Redllic shrugs, plopping down next to Bada, throwing her feet onto the coffee table. "What's going on?"

"Right, um," Youngj clears his throat. "As I was saying, there's an event that we're hosting for Valentine's Day. We're calling it the 'Cupid Project.' Basically, you're all going to get into pairs, and you'll be doing a variety of activities together," Youngj explains, his eyes scanning the group, watching the reactions on everyone's faces. 

Ew, is the immediate word that pops into your head. This reminded you of the group projects your teachers forced you to do in school. You can already see how this project will play out, and it's probably not going to be pretty. Based on the skeptical expressions you can make out, you are at least relieved to see that you aren't the only one feeling hesitant. 

"What kind of activities?" Bada asks softly, tilting her head.

"Just activities to get to know each other. Doing things you wouldn't normally do," Youngj replies, shrugging his shoulders. "Jho and I have some planned activities, but the point is for you and your partner to find things to do voluntarily. If we plan everything out for you guys, then it'll be completely forced."

"Wait, wait, wait," Minho interjects, pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head. "So, you're telling me I have to go on a date with someone here?"

"No," Youngj shakes his head. "We're not forcing you to fall in love or anything. This is purely platonic, just a fun way to bond with each other. And there'll be a prize," Youngj says, wagging his finger.

"A prize?" Minho echos, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. You and your partner will compete against the others and the pair who does the most activities and seems to have actually become good friends with each other will win a reward."

"How are you measuring that?" Hoyeon, another videographer, asks. 

"We'll conduct anonymous votes and collect them at the Valentine's Day party we're hosting," Youngj explains. "But, it's not supposed to be all that serious, everyone. We're just trying to do something fun and, you know, team-build since we've gotten a lot of new hires recently. And, we'll get a good video out of it. We're planning on making a highlight reel of the Cupid Project for our Youtube Channel, which will be nice promotional material, too."

So that's what this was really about: content. Truthfully, you wouldn't have an issue with this if it were not very likely that you'd be the one filming or editing this highlight reel. You internally groan, realizing you'll have to deal with an increased workload because of this clusterfuck. 

"I think it's a great idea," Redllic says, a mischievous smirk on her face. You watch her glance at Bada, who is staring at nothing with an unreadable look in her eyes.

"Well, what's the prize?" Minho asks. 

"600,000 KRW"

Others around the room whisper in excitement. You almost drop your camera. Out of shock, yes, but also because that was exactly the amount of money you needed to buy a brand new camera that you've been eyeing for ages. You've been wanting to record more complex videos, wanting to work on actual music video sets, but your current setup is limiting you. If you were able to get your hands on that camera now, you'd be about a year or two ahead of the original timeline you had in mind. You bite the inside of your lip, hoping Youngj doesn't see the desperation in your eyes.

"Holy shit," Hoyeon mutters. 

The two of you make eye contact, and you already know that the two of you are working together. You were close, having joined the company at the same time and being around the same age. This would be an easy win. 

"Alright, so it's settled, then," Youngj says, a confident grin forming on his face.

"Are we choosing our own partners?" Redllic asks, moving a blonde strand of hair away from her face. 

"No. That would lead to a bunch of people asking to be paired with people they're already friends with, which would make the whole thing pointless. We're drawing names out of a hat," Youngj says, gesturing towards the baseball cap resting on the coffee table.

Everyone collectively groans. You try not to cry. 

"Stop, come on, don't make this difficult," Youngj frowns. "The sooner you choose, the more time you have to prepare. Now, who wants to go first? I already have your names written,"

"Wait, let me go first," Hoyeon volunteers, jumping up and grabbing the hat. She reaches her hand inside and picks a small slip of paper out, then reads it aloud. You bite your lip, praying.

"Howl," Hoyeon declares, holding the piece of paper out for everyone to see. 

Your name is not Howl, but you nearly howl right then and there. Realistically, the probability that you would get who you wanted was unlikely considering the number of people in the room. Nonetheless, it hurt. 

The man with the wolf-centric name quietly stands and moves away from the corner he was situated in. He had been quiet the entire meeting, and most did not really notice he was there until Hoyeon mentioned his name.

"Guess it's you and me," Hoyeon laughs, smiling at the tall figure beside her.

Howl gives her a slight smile, shakes her hand, and they sit back down.

"Alright, Bada. Why don't you come over here?" Youngj says, gesturing to the coffee table.

"The one that everyone wants, I'm sure," Redllic comments with a bemused smirk, causing a clamor of chuckles.

Bada scoffs, and heads over to the table. She reaches into the hat, rustling through the papers. You hold your breath, reminding yourself of the unlikelihood that you'd be the name she pulled. However, as the woman's fingers curl around a single sheet of paper, your heart skips a beat. You feel as if you were the one reaching into the hat.

Bada pulls the paper out and unfolds it, her eyes scanning the sheet. Then, her eyes lock with yours, and your heart leaps. 

"Y/N," Bada calls out, holding the paper up.

You freeze, the room spinning around you. There's no way. 

Bada cocks her head to the side. "It's you, right?"

"Oh! Um, yeah," You sputter, quickly gathering the camera equipment around you.

You hear whispers and feel a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk over to the girl. You ignore the feeling of your skin burning. 

"Hey, Y/N. It's nice to officially meet you. I've seen you around a lot," Bada says, eyes warm.

"Yeah, nice to officially meet you, too," You say, extending your hand.

Her hand is warm and soft, enveloping yours like a blanket. Your hand feels cold and sweaty. 

"Interesting," Redllic quips, eyes darting between you two, a glint in her gaze. Bada tears her eyes away from you, giving the blonde woman a questioning look as she retracts her hand.

You take the opportunity to step away, returning to your seat and letting the other dancers pull names. The rest of the pairings are revealed without much commotion, except for Minho's, who loudly complains when he has to partner up with Jaeyong, a good choreographer, but awkward man. 

After all the names are drawn, everyone is dismissed. You're quick to leave the room, eager to return to the comfort of your familiar space behind the camera.

"Y/n! Slow down! We need to talk!" Hoyeon calls, catching up to you.

You turn around, side-stepping out of the way of people walking past you in the hallway. You wait for her to stop in front of you before you speak."With all due respect, I don't really want to talk right now. I just want to record. Then go home, and eat some ramen."

"With Bada?" Hoyeon sings, a cheeky grin forming on her face.

"Shut up," You mumble, rolling your eyes and continuing down the hall.

"Wait, why are you so bummed?" Hoyeon starts, following behind you, "Bada's cool?"

You sigh. "Exactly. She's cool. I'm...not."

"What? Yes, you are. Why would you think otherwise?" Hoyeon scoffs, her eyes narrowed.

"I just," You pause in the hallway again, trying to formulate the words. "I'm a little scared of her, is all."

"Scared?" Hoyeon questions, her forehead wrinkling. "She's nice though. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah, but she's so pretty, and talented, and again, I'm not. Not in the way extraordinary way that she is, I mean.” You explain, shoulders slumping. 

A look of realization dawns upon Hoyeon's face, and she laughs menacingly. "Oh, I see what this is. You think she's hot, and you're a scaredy cat who's afraid of rejection. Case closed. I understand."

"That's not how I would phrase things but, essentially, yes," You concede, turning the corner.

"You're being silly. She's not a god. She's literally just a human being...a very sexy human being but a human being nonetheless. Just talk to her like one," Hoyeon suggests, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, are you not going to try to get that money? I know you want it. I saw that crazed look in your eye once Youngj made it to that fifth zero."

You laugh, "I mean, yes, I really want that money. I don't know if it's possible though. Even if I wanted to reach out to her, she’s so busy I doubt she's planning on actually committing to this. Especially because she's already loaded."

"You don't know until you try you wimp," Hoyeon says, nudging you in the arm.

"Ow," You groan, rubbing the spot in a manner that probably proves her point. "Aren't you going to try for the money too? Where's Howl, huh?"

"We're friends already, it'll be chill. I don't know if we'll necessarily win the money, but, like, we'll have a good time," Hoyeon states, grinning.

"Ugh, gross," You say, sticking out your tongue.

She ignores your immaturity. "What do you wanna do with the money anyway?" Hoyeon asks, leaning against the wall next to an entrance to one of the dance studios.

"Remember that equipment I told you about? So I can start working on sets?"

"Oh, right," Hoyeon says, crossing her arms. "You said that you've been wanting to do that for a while, y/n. Are you really not going to talk to Bada? I’ve recorded with her a few times now and I mean it when I say that she's nice as hell. I feel like she'd probably be down, or, at the very least, will understand if you explain things to her. "

"I'll try. Maybe. At some point. It's not going to be today, though," you mutter, reaching for the studio door before you are stopped by Hoyeon jabbing her french-tipped fingernail into your chest. 

"You better. Or else," Hoyeon threatens, a dark expression coming over her. 

"Move your finger, please," You say, swatting her hand away.

Hoyeon rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Good luck filming. I'm gonna go find Howl. Love ya,"

"Yeah, yeah. Have fun," You wave goodbye to her as she walks down the hall, pulling out her phone.

Once she's out of sight, you release a deep sigh and push open the door, only to be met with the sight of a familiar face. 

"Oh," You breathe.

Bada turns, a surprised expression on her face. "Y/n, hi. Were you coming in?"

"Um, yeah," You reply, slowly entering the room and closing the door behind you. "Are you rehearsing something?"

"Yeah," Bada answers, glancing at the mirror.

"Sorry. I can go-"

"No, no, don't worry about it. If you need to film in here, that's fine. I'll just go next door," Bada says, waving her hand.

You pause, taking a breath. Now’s your chance. "Actually, forget the recording, could I talk to you real quick? About the...cupid thing?"

"Yeah, of course. I was actually hoping we'd get a chance to talk," Bada grins, sitting down on the floor and patting the spot beside her.

You hesitantly walk over and sit down next to her. You take a moment to compose yourself, running your fingers along the smooth fabric of your pants.

"So," Bada prompts.

"Uh," You stammer, wracking your brain for what you were supposed to say. "Um, well, I just wanted to say that, uh, you are really, um, talented. And-oh, this sounds really weird." You finish, running a palm down your face in embarrassment. 

"No, no, it's not," Bada chuckles, a gentle smile on her face. "Thank you, though. But, um, that's not what you wanted to say, right?"

"Right. Sorry," You apologize, a rush of blood filling your cheeks.

"Don't worry. Take your time. We have a lot of it," Bada reminds you, studying the expression on your face. Her voice and words are calming, but her staring is freaking freaking you out further. 

You take another deep breath, hoping to quell your nerves. "Okay. I'm sorry. Uh, I'll try again. What I really wanted to say is, I know that it’s a stupid contest, and that you probably don't care about winning, but I actually really want to participate in that project and win that prize money. And, I was hoping you'd, maybe, help me win?" Before she can respond, you launch into another tangent. "I'm sorry, you're probably busy, which is okay, but I just want to upgrade my equipment so I can get more opportunities outside of-"

"Hey," Bada says, gently laying her hand on top of yours. "Of course I'll help you. You don't have to apologize. I think it'll be fun."

You nearly spiral, but Bada's touch is surprisingly soothing, and you calm down despite your anxiety. 

"Oh, wow. Thank you, so much," You breathe.

"It's not a big deal, seriously. I'm looking forward to it," Bada insists, squeezing your hand.

You stare at her, and her kind, sparkling eyes. What have you gotten yourself into?

You both sit there for a second, a pregnant pause in the air, before you quickly pull your hand away, remembering how sweaty they were.

Bada smiles, unphased. Then, she begins tapping her fingers rhythmically against the ground, a contemplative look on her face as she stares at the space where your hands were previously intertwined. 

"So," Bada suddenly looks up. "If you're just in it to win it, and you really want a fair shot, I think we need to do something a little extreme."

You blink, scared. "What do you mean…extreme?"

She bites her lip and you have to resist the urge to stare. "Youngj said this was supposed to be platonic, so that's how most people are going to approach it. How do we seem better or stronger than other platonic relationships? What’s more intense than that?"

You must be misunderstanding where she's going with this. "Um, a romantic one?" You say, furrowing your eyebrows.

To your shock, she nods. "Exactly. Y/n, I'm saying that we should make our Cupid partnership a romantic one," Bada states, her expression serious.

Your head is spinning. She is taking this much more seriously than you were anticipating. You were expecting to just go out for coffee a few times, and maybe post a picture of your twinning lattes on instagram to sell your friendship. You have no idea how to process this more intense proposition.

"Are you suggesting that we pretend to date each other?" You confirm.

A beat of silence. She leans back slightly, her eyes flickering. "I mean, yeah. Sure," She pauses. "Unless you're not comfortable with that."

"I am," You respond, the lie escaping your mouth with ease. 

Bada's eyes widen and she sits up, a smile growing on her face. "You're sure? If you're not cool with that, we don't have to. I know the idea is a little bit out there. I just, uh, want to help," She babbles, her fingers tapping against the floor again. 

You laugh. Was Bada Lee nervous? "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I trust you. As long as it helps us win,"

"It will, I promise. I'll make it worth your while," Bada vows, her expression determined.

"I can't wait," You laugh again, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"Cool," She breathes, her body relaxing. "Well, I should go. I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

You grin, nodding. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"Awesome," She smiles, standing up. She reaches her down and grabs your hand, pulling you up. "I'm not gonna be able to actually meet-up with you tomorrow because I have something scheduled, but I already have your phone number. I'll text you."

You nod, distracted and unable to speak as her soft fingers brush against your palm.

"Bye-bye," She waves cutely, her long legs swiftly carrying her across the room. You wave back, her departing smile etched into your brain as you watch the door click shut behind her. Then, you're alone. 

You stare at the floor, processing the interaction. You had just agreed to pretend to date one of the hottest and most intimidating women you had ever met. You had no clue why you did it. Maybe the promise of money and fulfilled dreams had blinded you. Still, the whole thing seemed a little too ridiculous. Too dangerous. 

But there was no backing out now. You already went through the trouble of telling Bada about your desperation, and you told her that you trusted her. You'd have to commit. 

"Well," you whisper, hugging yourself in a soothing motion. "Here goes nothing."

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You fidget within the plush confines of your seat, hesitantly glancing around your dimly lit surroundings as you twist a gleaming piece of silverware between your fingers. Your other hand remains in your lap, afraid to touch the red linen covering your table. Your gaze settles on a couple a few tables away from you, clinking their wine glasses together with pompous grins. It crosses your mind that the wine they're drinking is probably worth more than the money you're doing all of this for, and you make the executive decision to reach for the bottle of wine the woman sitting across from you generously bought. 

When you drop your fork to outstretch your hand toward the bottle, the woman in question seems to notice, hurriedly grabbing ahold of it before you can reach it, and pours the liquid into your glass, herself. 

"Thank you," you murmur, retracting your hand and finally allowing it to fall on the table. 

"No problem," Bada replies, her voice warm and velvety, like the wine. She pushes your drink toward you, and you hurriedly snatch it up to take a large gulp, allowing it to trickle down your throat. The heat of the alcohol soothes your anxiety, and you exhale deeply. 

Your relief lasts for approximately one millisecond. Because, in the next, you're putting your drink down and are being reminded of the predicament you've gotten yourself into. Bada's preoccupation with her menu gives you the chance to observe the way the soft glow emanating from a nearby lamp illuminates her features. The light traces the curves of her face, accentuating every perfect line. Her eyebrows furrow in concentration, compelling you to consider reaching over the table to smooth the lines over with your thumb. When you try to look away, your gaze locks on the pouting of her lips as she focuses on whatever she's reading. 

"I'm thinking of getting the Frutti Di Mare," she voices, snapping you out of your trance. She sets the menu down and looks up, a gentle smile on her face.

"I don't know what that is," you respond dumbly. 

She laughs, the sound light and airy, causing the skin near her eyes to wrinkle adorably. "I thought Italian was your favorite?"

"It is," you confirm, feeling flustered. "I just-the Italian places I go to are super watered down. The fanciest thing you'll see there is fettuccini alfredo,"

"That makes sense," Bada nods, her smile turning playful. "Then, I'll let you know what it is. It's basically seafood. I think it's usually served with pasta."

"Ah," you reply, nodding slowly. "Tasty."

Bada laughs again, and you feel like a scratched CD—unable to get any words out, twitching in place, devilish sounds threatening to enemate from you at any moment. "I'll make sure to order an extra portion for you to try. Unless, of course, you don't want me to."

"No, that works. I'm fine with that," you respond, quickly.

"I figured." Bada smiles knowingly.

Your hand clutches your chest. "Hey, is that a little shade? Did I miss it? Please, elaborate," you joke, leaning forward.

Bada giggles. "Maybe. You've been drinking a lot of that wine. And I think you ate most of the breadsticks."

You glance at your breadcrumb filled plate, then at the half-empty basket of breadsticks. "Oh. Wow. I did."

"You did," Bada affirms, her expression amused. She scoots her chair closer and takes a sip of her own drink, her tongue darting out to lick her lips once she's done. You have the overwhelming urge to mimic the motion, but resist, choosing to instead stuff another breadstick in your mouth.

You swallow the last bits of the breadstick, wiping the crumbs off of your mouth, only for a new, smaller, crumb to appear. Bada notices, and when she raises her arm, your breath hitches. You feel her soft hand graze the side of your face, the pad of her thumb rubbing the crumb off your lip.

"There we go," Bada smiles, satisfied. You can't help but lean into her touch, the warmth of her skin a pleasant contrast against the cold room.

You're startled out of the moment when the waiter appears, setting a basket of warm bread down. You jump, moving away from Bada.

"Have we decided what we'd like to eat?" he asks, his accent thick.

Bada nods, seemingly unaffected by the exchange. "Yes, we're ready. I'll have the Frutti di Mare."

"Great choice," the waiter says. "And, for you, miss?"

"Um, Spaghetti," you answer, your voice strained. 

The waiter scribbles down the order. "Anything else to drink?"

"I’m good, thank you," Bada answers, her tone sweet, smiling gratefully at the man.

"I'll be right back with your food," the waiter bows his head, his ponytail bouncing, and swiftly leaves the table, leaving the two of you alone. 

Avoiding eye contact with Bada, you grab ahold of your glass and drink. The air crackles with something subtle, and you find yourself stealing glances at Bada’s pretty face in between sips, your cheeks warming.

But you needed to get down to business. It’s already been two days since you discussed fake-dating, and this is the first time you’ve done anything together. The clock was ticking.

You placed your drink down on the table and swallowed loudly, causing Bada to stop fiddling with the napkin in front of her in favor of looking at you. 

"So," you start.

"So," she copies.

"What's the plan?" you ask, drumming your fingers against the table.

Bada's eyebrows furrow again. "The plan?"

"For the whole Cupid thing," you clarify.

"Oh," she says, blinking. "Right. Well, I was thinking, that this was sort of the plan."

"This being..."

"Dinner. At a fancy restaurant," she responds, gesturing to her surroundings. "People will see us hanging out together here, and it'll get the rumor mill running. I wouldn't be surprised if the media picked it up, honestly. I think it's a pretty solid first step. We're just planting the seeds,"

You nod. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. How do we get from here to actually dating?"

She leans back in her chair, pondering the question. "Hm. I don't know. An Instagram post, maybe? A soft launch?"

You consider this. "Okay, sure. But, what would the picture be of? This is all so, vague."

Bada shrugs, nonchalant. "We'll figure it out as we go. We're gonna be spending a lot of time together for the next few days so there'll be plenty of opportunities for pictures. For now, I think we should just enjoy dinner. We're supposed to look like a couple in love right now and I don't know if trying to scientifically plan a soft launch is really giving romance."

"Right," you sigh. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bada says, reaching across the table to give your hand a quick squeeze.

You're interrupted by the waiter returning, bringing the food. He carefully sets the dishes down, and a delectable smell fills the air.

"Bon appetit," the waiter bows his head and disappears again.

"Thanks," you call after him, taking a moment to observe the meal.

"It looks great," Bada comments, reaching for her fork.

"It does," you agree, grabbing your own utensils. You take a tentative bite, moaning loudly as the flavors immediately explode in your mouth. "Holy fuck."

Bada stares at you, wide-eyed and frozen, a piece of pasta still stuck on her fork.

You blush, covering your mouth. "Oh my gosh, sorry."

She gulps, snapping out of her stupor. "No, no, it's fine. That was just, a, uh. It seems like you really like it!"

"It's really good," you confirm, your words muffled by the food.

"I can tell," Bada chuckles, her voice low and her eyes twinkling.

"Sorry. I'm gonna try not to embarrass myself any more," you say, chewing more delicately.

She laughs softly. "There's no need to apologize. You're funny, y/n," Bada says, the sincerity of her words and the fondness in her tone making heat rise to your cheeks. 

You eat the rest of your food quietly, listening to the bustling noise around you, the sound of Bada's utensils clinking against her plate unusually relaxing.

As you're finishing your last bits of pasta, a group of loud voices and giggles pass by your table. One of the girls, a brunette, notices the two of you and stops.

"Oh, my god," you hear the girl not-so-discreetly whisper, clutching her friends' arms. "Is that who I think it is?"

You glance at Bada, and she's looking at you. You raise an eyebrow.

"Bada Lee and...I don't know who that is? Who is that?" The brunette's friend replies.

You look down, pretending not to hear the conversation.

"I don't know either. You think that's her girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?! No way. They're probably just hanging out or something."

At this, Bada drops her fork and reaches across the table for your hand, grabbing it gently.

"You okay, baby?" Bada asks, her tone sugary sweet.

You're taken aback by the pet name. But, you decide to play along. You smile at her, placing your other hand over hers. "I'm fine, sweetie. Just a little tired."

"Do you wanna leave, honey?"

"I think I'll be fine," you grin.

"If you're sure," Bada smiles, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb.

"I'm positive, honey bunch," you affirm, biting onto your bottom lip to contain your laughter. 

"Aw, they're cute!" the brunette sighs. "I've gotta tell Sooyoung about this."

"Yeah, we should leave them alone, though. Let's go."

You and Bada watch the pair walk away. As soon as the women are out of sight, the two of you burst into laughter, dropping the facade.

"Did you see their faces?" Bada giggles.

"'Who is that?'" you imitate, your voice high pitched and nasal.

"Baby," Bada says, smirking. 

You laugh, but the endearment sends butterflies to your stomach. "Sweetie."

"Honey bunch," Bada grins.

"Honey bunny," you fire back.

"My love," she replies, tilting her head with a smirk, her voice playful. 

"Lovebug," you answer, raising an eyebrow.

"Is this foreplay?" she jokes, laughing. 

"I mean, if you want it to be, I'm not stopping you," you say, the words slipping out before you can stop yourself. Bada's eyes shoot up, and you feel slightly mortified and shocked by your own brazenness. 

"Do you mean that?" Bada asks, her voice dropping down an octave.

You open your mouth, then shut it. This is odd. You were regretting your lack of filter at first, but Bada seemed a bit too intrigued by the idea of consensual foreplay with you. She could just be joking, or really committing to the fake-dating bit. The look in her eyes was telling you otherwise, though.

However, you're cut off by the waiter reappearing. "May I interest you in dessert, or shall I bring the check?" he asks.

"Just the check, please," she says, not breaking eye contact with you.

The waiter bows, leaving the table once more.

You opt to stare down at the table. "I'll pay half," you offer, avoiding her earlier question.

"It's on me," Bada says. "I brought you here."

"Thank you."

"It's no problem," she says, a small smile on her lips.

Once the waiter comes back, Bada gives him her card. When he returns to your table with the receipt, Bada locks eyes with you, your heart thumping loudly.

"Let's get out of here," Bada says, and you nod.

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You stand at the entrance of the restaurant, a gentle breeze caressing your face. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your coat, and the chilly air nips at the tip of your nose.

"Are you ready?" Bada asks from behind you. You turn around to look at her, and the way her eyes reflect the light of the streetlamps above you causes your chest to tighten.

"Ready," you confirm, a hint of a smile on your face.

"Alright," Bada says, shoving her phone, which you don't remember seeing her pull out, into her coat pocket. She leads you to her car, opening the passenger seat door for you.

"Thanks," you smile, and she responds with a nod. 

After the door is closed, she goes around to the driver's seat, starting the engine and driving out of the parking lot. You're both silent as she navigates through the streets. You peer out the window, watching the city lights flicker and blur as you replay tonight's events, attempting to ignore the now obvious tension. 

"So," Bada breaks the silence, causing you to whip your head toward her. "You still haven't fully explained to me what plans you have in mind for that camera you're wanting so badly."

"Well," you begin, relieved that she took the conversation in this direction. "I love what I do at JustJerk. Seriously, watching you guys dance is amazing, and the people are the best. But, I don't want my career to end there. I want to do more on top of that, diversify my portfolio and all. What I really want to do is get onto a music video set. Maybe start directing, too. One day."

Bada hums and smiles. "That's amazing."

"Thanks," you grin, scratching the back of your neck.

"With all due respect, though, do you really need the new equipment for that? You do such a good job with our choreography videos. I don't know anything about videography, but I'd be surprised if that alone couldn't get your foot in the door."

"Well," you draw out, considering your words. "That's probably true. But, I don't think I'm that lucky. The equipment will help, the camera will be useful...the lenses will be nice to have…”

Bada frowns. "Have you given it a shot yet, though? As much as I'm going to try my hardest to help you win this money, realistically, there's a good chance that we still won't win. I'd hate to see you postpone your dreams just because of this camera, or because of this project."

You pause, staring at the car's interior, listening to the sound of the engine running, lost in thought. You weren't sure if it was because you admired Bada so much, or if it was something about her tone, but you were actually starting to rethink things. Perhaps you were holding yourself back a bit. 

"Maybe," you simply respond, unable to say much else. 

"I mean, the equipment will probably help," Bada concedes. "But, not having it won't stop you, I'm sure. Our videographers really don't get enough credit. But, you're all great and you're especially amazing at what you do, y/n. The only reason why I haven't gotten around to working with you is because the other dancers keep getting to you first," she admits, bitterly. 

"Wow," you breathe. "Thank you."

"Of course. You're awesome," she says, the confidence in her words filling your heart.

"So are you," you say, turning away from her, trying not to blush.

"I know. You’ve said it already," Bada smirks, and you simply roll your eyes. 

A more comfortable silence envelops the two of you, and the tension from before dissipates. You lean back in the passenger seat, a smile on your face, feeling content.

Soon, Bada pulls up outside of your apartment, and you're disappointed. 

"This is you," Bada announces.

"Yep," you nod.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," she says, smiling.

"Me too," you reply with a matching smile. "Thank you for dinner."

"It was no problem," she states, waving her hand.

You step outside, but, before closing the car door, you hesitate. "Um," you say, unsure.

"What is it?" Bada asks, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Can I give you a hug?" you blurt out.

Bada looks startled, but her expression softens. "Sure," she nods, turning the engine off and stepping outside.

You meet her on the sidewalk, and pull her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her torso and pressing your cheek against her chest. She hugs back, and you swear that you can hear her heartbeat.

"Goodnight," Bada whispers into your hair.

"Goodnight," you echo, pulling away, already missing her warmth.

She opens the car door again, ducking inside. "Text me when you get upstairs," she instructs.

"I will," you promise.

"Great. Goodnight, y/n," she smiles.

"Goodnight, Bada," you reply, watching her drive away. Once her car disappears, you sigh.

As you trudge up the stairs to your apartment, a single question repeats in your mind: What the fuck am I doing?

You finish cleaning up and getting ready for bed approximately two hours later. As you lay in bed, scrolling through social media, a post from a JustJerk fanpage catches your eye. It's a picture of Bada and you together at dinner, with the caption, "Caught on a date?!"

You laugh at the predictability of the situation, and just as you're about to turn off your phone, you think to check Bada's Instagram, curious. She posted a new story.

You tap it, and it's a picture of you, taken from behind, standing outside the restaurant. There are no words attached to the picture. Just one, pink heart.

You smile, saving the picture, and fall asleep with the image burned into your mind.

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Three days later, you are stationed near your camera, watching Bada teach. The day after your fake dinner date, she sent you a text describing the next stage of the plan, which was attending each other's events and collaborating in public whenever it seemed right. This initially felt like an excellent idea. You'd been dying to watch and record one of Bada's classes since you started working at JustJerk, and it brought you guys one step closer to convincing everyone you were seriously dating. What could go wrong?

The actual execution of this idea turned out to be much more distressing than you previously imagined. It started this morning when you were filming Minho's class. You kneeled in the front of the room, prepping your camera as Minho made rounds around the studio to talk to his students individually. Engrossed with your equipment, you didn't hear the sounds of the door opening and closing, or the following eruption of loud murmuring. It was not until you saw a pair of sneakers stop in front of you and caught a whiff of a now-familiar sweet aroma, that you bothered to glance up. When you did, you found yourself making eye contact with Bada, holding a bouquet.

"These are for you," Bada said, a proud smile on her face. 

Your jaw dropped and you scrambled to get up, almost knocking the camera over. They were roses, vibrant and beautiful against the dull gray of the dance studio. No one had done this for you before. 

"They're gorgeous," you whispered, accepting the flowers.

"I'm glad you think so," she replied, her smile deepening as she observed your reaction. You cradled the bouquet in your hands, inhaling the smell of the roses with a pleased hum and missing the endeared expression on Bada's face. You certainly didn’t see the way she started to lean forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Shocked, you loosened your grip on the bouquet, feeling nothing but the rush of warmth spread through every inch of you as a result of her tiny peck. 

She shifted back, as relaxed as ever. "I gotta go, but I'll see you later?" 

"Definitely," you nod, clutching the bouquet once again, head spinning.

"Great." She nodded, then made her way out of the studio.

After she left, you turned to face the room, only to be met with everyone’s staring. Right. That is what this is about. Getting attention. Nothing else. 

You glanced at Minho, who had a teasing smirk on his face.

"What?" you asked him, scowling. 

"Nothing," he laughed, then restarted his class. 

Now you are recording Bada's class. Or at least, that’s what you’re supposed to be doing. But, having to observe her so confidently lead her students through a routine, hearing her call out corrections with a simultaneously gentle yet demanding tone, noticing how hard her abs are when she lifts her shirt to wipe the sweat from her brow for the last hour? It's been painful. You're so busy trying not to swoon you've nearly forgotten to press record a couple of times.

She suddenly looks at you, flashing a small smile at you accompanied by crinkling eyes. You give her a thumbs-up and quickly shift your gaze toward the camera as if you were busy setting the frame, even though the shot is already perfect.

Bada returns her focus to the class, and the lesson continues. Every once in a while, Bada walks over to you, checking in and asking how everything is going. Each time, she offers a smile, a wink, or some form of encouragement, and every time, it takes everything in your power not to blush. She's clearly playing it up for the audience, but the effect she has on you is no act.

Her students are buying it, though. The moment she gets near you, the girls (and a few guys) start whispering amongst themselves. It's working.

"Alright," Bada claps, signaling the end of the session. "That's it for today. Good job, everybody."

"Thank you, teacher!" they all exclaim, bowing and gathering their things.

You're packing up your camera when you feel a pair of hands grasp your waist. Startled, you drop your tripod.

"Gotcha," Bada giggles.

"Shit, that scared me," you say, placing a hand on your heart.

"Sorry, sorry," she laughs. "How'd the recording go?"

"Pretty good," you say, bending down to pick up the tripod. Bada immediately crouches, beating you to it. "Thank you."

"No problem" she says, straightening up, extending the tripod towards you.

"Thanks," you say again, taking the device from her. "Anyway, you did good. It's not going to need much editing."

"Really?" Bada smiles. "Thank you. That means a lot, actually."

"It’s no problem," you grin, suppressing the fluttering in your stomach. "And, uh, thanks again for the flowers, by the way. They were beautiful."

“You are very welcome. Just fulfilling my fake-girlfriend duties," Bada beams, and you have to look away.

"Well, anyway, I should probably head home," you say, avoiding eye contact. "Gotta get started on the footage."

She tilts her head. "Uh, I don’t think so. That’s gonna have to wait for tomorrow,” 

"Huh? Why?" you ask, confused.

"Because, y/n, we're going bowling with Youngj and them? Don't tell me you forgot," she chides, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh," you say, remembering. "I thought that was supposed to be later."

"It's 7:30," she says, a slight frown on her face.

"Fuck," you curse, running a hand through your hair. "Sorry, I'll get out of here."

"We have to go there together," Bada reminds you.

"Shit. Okay, yeah, let's go," you sigh.

"Are you okay?" she asks, concern etched onto her features.

"Yes. No. Ugh. Sorry, I just had a lot on my mind today. Didn't get much sleep," you say, rubbing your eyes. It wasn’t a complete lie. Ever since your date at the restaurant, you’ve been getting bombarded with messages from friends asking about the two of you, giving you little time to rest alongside your work for Justjerk. There was more going on today, though. 

"That sucks," Bada sympathizes. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," you answer, bluntly.

"Okay," she says, softly. "But, if and when you do, I’m all ears."

"Thanks, Bada. I appreciate it," you reply, and a part of you is telling yourself not to get attached. But the bigger part of you, the part that wants nothing more than to fall into her arms, tells that smaller part to fuck off.

"Of course. Anyway, we should really get going," she says, and you follow her out the door, leaving your thoughts and feelings behind.

read part two

#bada lee #bada lee fanfic #bada lee fluff #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #lee bada #street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bada lee imagine

[theragethatisdesire]

꧁ rage's library ꧂

hello there, this is the best attempt at a masterlist i have been able to keep even halfway updated. there are lots of little ramblings and musings on my blog otherwise, but all the big chunks of writing are catalogued here. thanks for stopping by<3

DISCLAIMER: all of my writing contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor or ageless blog, please kindly leave my page.

Eren Jaeger

ti penso ogni giorno (a collection)

a collection of one-shots set in a modern au that spans nearly 10 years of your relationship with the cute boy you met at a party in college.

much ado about nothing (ongoing series)

plug!eren enters the life of our stressed out, literature student reader just when she least expects him. in true shakespearean fashion, chaos ensues. strangers to fwb to idiots in love.

scary dog privilege (one-shot)

you enlist eren as your fake boyfriend for connie’s birthday party, unable to face your ex, jean, without the help of your best friend. you forgot one crucial thing, though: where jean’s all bark, eren’s all bite.

quick bright things (two-parter)

part 1 - spending your summer sweltering in the uppermost regions of italy with your wealthy friends, you stumble across a man who seems straight out of a shakespeare play, and who seems to be completely fascinated with you.

Jean Kirchstein

pretty girl (one-shot)

your new boyfriend jean is pretty much perfect, except when it comes to your incredibly vanilla sex life. you make the mistake of underestimating him.

Reiner Braun

a girl is a gun (canon-divergent series, ao3 only for now)

after years of bloodshed and distance, evin finley reconnects with her childhood friend, reiner braun. they’ve both changed over the years, but the string that ties them together seems to have survived the wars they’ve faced. when secrets about evin’s past start to come to light after eren jaeger’s raid on liberio, reiner finds out whether or not love truly is the death of duty.

Multi-Character

aot faves as dads (headcanons)

just my favorite boys with their precious little ones in another, happier life.

three’s a… (poly!erejean uni)

you and eren have been getting more adventurous in the bedroom and roping jean into your adventures. jean’s way too in his head about the whole thing.

show off (poly!erejean uni)

eren notices that you and jean have a bit of a crush on one another. he helps you act out your fantasy.

cabin in the woods (poly!erejean uni)

you and the boys head up to jean's mountain cabin to celebrate the one-year anniversary adding jean into your relationship with eren

drabble masterlist

sometimes i literally just never shut up and sometimes i play ask games so find the result of both of those things linked here.

#rage.writing #masterlist

[wardenparker]

Next to Normal, part 3

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: 18+! Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: Reader's age isn't pinpointed but you/she are old enough to remember the way the world worked before the Outbreak. Swearing. PTSD, past death of a child, mentions of pregnancy and STIs, panic attack, trauma reactions, home invasion, threats of murder, infliction of mortal injuries, descriptions of broken bones and other wounds, blink and you’ll miss It mention of drug use, manipulation, gaslighting, revenge, conspiracy, death. DEAD DOVE. DO NOT EAT. This chapter contains graphic violence! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Summary: Things have been going well with Joel until one fateful movie night. It will take fighting past all of your demons to make it to your happily ever after. Notes: The finale of this three-parter was particularly emotional for me to write and the relief of a happy ending was absolutely necessary. My hope is that there is absolutely no one in the world who can relate to the reader as she/you go through hell, but I'm realistic enough to know better. So to all my kindred spirits who struggle, I hope you find catharsis in reader's journey.

Part 1 ~ Part 2

Winter turned to spring with an ease and grace that almost made you forget that times are hard. The outside world is moving in whatever way it does, but Jackson is doing well. Ellie is learning basic agriculture in the fields on her school break and Joel is becoming more and more a way a part of how this town runs. He gets consulted on matters as a prominent citizen, from the basic to the complicated. This morning he was off at another meeting but he’ll be all yours for the afternoon, and then there is the movie at night. It is shaping up to be a nearly perfect day, as days go in this world, and you sit in your sewing nook letting out the seams on some dresses for a family in town with young girls — they’re growing like weeds and the girls’ favorite dresses are now too tight. Well, you can certainly fix that.

“Joel?” The door opens and Tommy sticks his head in to see if his brother is here. “Sorry, is Joel here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s in the basement.” It’s become something of a workshop for him, but you wave for Tommy to come in. He knows the way down. “Is everything okay?”

“Had something come up.” Tommy admits, shuffling into the house and shutting the door. “Need to see if he can help.”

“I’m sure he can.” Instinctively, and wanting to be helpful, you set your sewing aside and move to the open door at the top of the basement stairs. “Joel? Tommy’s here to see you, honey.”

“Send him down.” Joel calls back up, grunting and there’s the sound of something being set down on the concrete floor. “Or send him away. Hell if I wanna put up with him.” He jokes.

“Asshole.” Tommy jokes with a rumble, but thanks you and heads down the stairs. “The hell you doing down here, building a bunker? The world already ended.”

Joel snorts and shrugs. “Makin’ some cabinets for her.” He motions towards the half-finished organizers. “For her doo-dads and stuff. Figured I might get it done by Christmas if I started now.”

“She’s happy.” It makes Tommy smile to see the two of you together these days. You’ve come so far with Joel, and he has softened so much with you. “It’s good to see.”

“You come to see me for any one reason? Or to comment on domestic bliss?” He raises a brow at his brother, slightly uncomfortable with the idea that your happiness is tied to him. You’ve been healing, but he’s not entirely sure that it’s because of him.

“Need you to come downtown.” Leaning back against the wall, Tommy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Patrol got their asses handed to them by a group of raiders and some wanderer helped them out of a tight spot. They blindfolded him and brought him back to town to stitch him up and they’re talking about letting him stay. But town council needs to meet on it and interview the guy.”

Joel isn’t a council member, even though some apparently thought him as good as one. “Can’t.” He shakes his head. “Gotta work on that pen with Ellie and then it’s movie night.”

“I know it’s movie night.” Tommy digs the toe of his boot into the floor of the basement. “That’s why they wanted this settled fast. Nobody wants to give up movie night.” He nods though, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ll tell ‘em you were busy.”

“Sorry.” Joel frowns slightly. “I just— I promised her a night.” He lowers his voice and looks towards the stairs to make sure you aren’t coming down. “It’s…that time and I’m tryin’ to keep her busy so the nightmares don’t come.”

“I know.” Tommy nods, knowing exactly what time of year you were found, considering he was the one who found you. Your boy should be turning a year old tomorrow, but that will never happen. “Is she…how has she been?”

“There’s some rough days.” Joel won’t deny that, he can’t. “But I think being here with us, living with me and Ellie, has been good for her.”

“It’s as normal as any of us are going to get.” Tommy offers, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll get out of your hair. You good, otherwise?”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and shoots his brother a look. “Thanks, for covering for me.”

"Once Maria gets your ass on the town council there won't be any helping you." He shoots his brother a grin and Tommy shakes his head, laughing at the thought. "See you tonight?"

Joel snorts. “See you tonight.” He promises, frowning as Tommy quickly ascends the stairs and huffs. His own knees would be crackling at the pace his younger brother was moving. The truth was, Joel didn’t want to stray too far from you over the next day or so, so he had come up with reasons to work down in the basement.

"Everything okay?" When you stick your head down the stairs a few minutes later after seeing Tommy out the door, Joel has his head back over his workbench.

“Yeah.” Joel looks up and is met with a worried shadow in your eyes. “Nothin’ to worry about. He just was tryin’ to recruit me for council business again.”

"They want you to join." Coming halfway down the stairs, you sit on the middle step as you've become accustomed to. It keeps you close to him but not close enough to be underfoot.

“Councils.” He snorts, looking up at you with a roll of his eyes. “Can you imagine me on a council?”

"They'd probably get more done," you tell him honestly. "Because you wouldn't put up with them sitting around talking in circles all day."

“I don’t talk, I act.” You know this, though he probably talks to you more than anyone else in this goddamn town.

"I know, love. That's why they want you." Still, you understand his hesitance to join in on anything like that. Joel doesn't like politicking and he doesn't like being responsible for anymore than just your little family.

“They can want in one hand…” he trails off and looks back up at you. “How’s the sewing going? That peddle workin’ alright on the machine?”

"Things are going a hell of a lot faster thanks to you." The previous town seamstress's sewing machine had broken and there hadn't been any luck in fixing it before Joel. Now, though? You're moving through projects with ease. "Thank you for that."

“Anything for you.” The simplicity of the words don’t smudge their meaning. Joel would do anything for you. It’s just the way he’s wired.

"I love you, too." A fact which still reduces you to a stammering schoolgirl in some ways, but it's the truth. Loving Joel has restored you in so many ways.

He huffs in embarrassment but his eyes soften as he sends you a small smile. “Love you too.”

“I’ll let you work.” As much as you like to be close to him as much as possible, you know he has work to do and so do you. “When are you going to help Ellie with the pen?”

“When she comes tracking back in.” Joel snorts and shoots you a look. “You tell her that if she doesn’t brush off her boots, she’s sweepin’ the floors.”

“Okay, love.” You chuckle softly as you get up from the stairs and blow him a kiss before heading back upstairs.

Joel watches you walk up the stairs, frowning slightly. He’s worried, waking up with a sense of foreboding that he’s learned to not ignore. Something’s going to happen. Walking over to a cabinet, he opens it to reveal the supplies he’s started slowly acquiring. His eyes narrow slightly, reaching out and touching the hunting knife in front of him.

******

“Joel c’mon, we’re gonna be laaaate!” Ellie wails across the pen, pulling her jacket back on after their work is done.

“Alright.” The kid needs to learn to put her tools up, but she did a decent job. “Grab your stuff.”

“I got it!” She yells, triumphantly holding up the tool belt that Tommy had lent to her for the work.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You aren’t eager for the movie are you? Or is it more the person you’re sittin’ with?”

The grin instantly slips from Ellie’s face and morphs into an embarrassed blush. “Don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” she mumbles, kicking the dirt.

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” Joel scoffs. “Dina’s a nice girl. You obviously like spending time with her.”

“She’s so pretty.” There’s a dreamy quality to the teenager’s face when she looks up again and Ellie swings herself over to Joel’s side enthusiastically. “And she…she holds my hand sometimes. But I probably shouldn’t overthink that, right?”

“Don’t under think it either.” Joel cautions her. “Don’t want her to think that you’re bored by her.”

“Right.” That seemed to not even occur to Ellie, and she furrows her brow in tight as they start to walk back toward their house. “Is that what happened with you guys? Why she didn’t know you even liked her at first?”

“Probably.” Joel admits easily. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, kid, but I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Oh no, I know.” The grin she beams at him is enormous, like Joel’s grumpiness is her private amusement. “Somehow she doesn’t seem to care, though.”

“No, she doesn’t.” A fact that continues to astonish him. “But I try to be less of an asshole to her. That’s important in a relationship.” He tells Ellie like he’s imparting important wisdom.

“Don’t…be an asshole…to…Dina.” Ellie mimics writing the advice in the air on an invisible chalkboard and smirks. “Got it.”

“Good.” He snorts, rolling his eyes and huffing at the sarcasm displayed by the teenager. “You could get her some ice cream tonight.” He suggests.

“Ya think?” It seems to be an idea that hasn’t yet occurred to Ellie and immediately her eagerness has her walking faster. “Ohhh, yeah. She’d love that!”

Joel watches her pull ahead in amusement. “It’s the little things that count, kid.”

She could make a joke about his little thing, but that’s just gross to think about and she flinches instead as she walks along the road. “It’s just hard to know, ya know?” She says after a while. “If she likes me or not, I mean.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Joel doesn’t treat it as a joke, because it’s not. People are still emotional creatures and yearn for connection, even at the end of the world. “You should ask her to do something.” He suggests. “Something different.”

“Like when you guys go star gazing?” She asks, turning around to face him while she walks backward.

Joel smirks slightly, knowing that the star gazing often turns into more, but he just shrugs. “Something like that. Bird watching, star gazing, collecting shiny rocks from the riverbed.”

“Shiny rocks is good.” Like it’s the most profound thought in the world, Ellie nods. “We could go, like…walking on the river and pick up stones and look for birds?”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and smiles at the sight of Ellie staring off dreamily as she imagines her date. “Just be safe, you know?” He adds, clearing his throat. “Just because, you know, there can’t be babies doesn’t mean you can’t catch something.”

“Oh, ew, okay, way to ruin it.” She sticks her tongue out at him and makes a grossed out sound just as the house comes into view.

“Yeah, that’s what I get for trying to talk about that shit.” He chuckles and winces at the way he has managed to mess that up. “I’m sure you know all about what you need to know.” You have been a great motherly figured and he feels like having Ellie to dote on has helped you too.

It’s a few minutes later that Ellie busts in the front door of the house and sheds her jacket and tool belt to immediately to run upstairs. “Everything okay?” You ask Joel when he ambles in after her. “Ellie didn’t say a word when she came in. I’m assuming either something went wrong or she’s nervous about seeing Dina?”

Joel grins, a mischievous glint to his gaze as he looks at you. “Embarrassed her.” He admits shamelessly. “Told her that just because there won’t be no babies, don’t mean there can’t be something caught.” He feels just like he did when he embarrassed Sarah years ago.

“Nothing says quality Dad time like horrifying your teenager.” The smile you have for him is soft and sweet, and you wait until he’s shucked his jacket and set down his tools to kiss him.

His arms come around you easily. His own pressing of his lips against yours soft and promising. “Yeah. It’s pretty great.” He jokes, squeezing you slightly.

This is what’s great, and you sigh softly to yourself without even realizing it as the two of you just stand in the living room holding each other. The sense of serenity in just this house alone is such an enormous comfort to you and it’s almost entirely due to this man. “She’s a good kid,” you murmur in agreement.

“She is. And she’s about to have her first real girlfriend.” He snorts. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” A small nod of your head comes as your eyes drop back to the floor, thinking of the son you buried who will never see these milestones. “They do…”

“I’m sorry, beautiful girl.” It was a thoughtless comment, even for him. Knowing your loss and his own loss, he should have never said anything.

“It’s okay.” Sniffling the feeling away as best you can, you set your face to rights again and offer him a smile. “It’s just…I had another dream about him last night. That’s all.” They’re less frequent than they were but they do still happen regularly. It’s a battle not to let them take over your whole mind.

“I wish you were still holdin’ him.” Joel murmurs softly, pulling you into his arms for a comforting hug. “That I could have protected you both.”

“Nothing could have saved him.” As much as it hurts, you’ve had to make your peace with losing your son. There just wasn’t any way to keep him alive — especially considering you barely kept yourself alive. What’s terrifying is, as you lean into Joel’s chest, you could swear that you can feel hope winging in your chest. “At least…if it ever happens again…I know we’ll be safe this time.”

He wants to immediately shoot that down, to pretend you had never mentioned it. Too painful to even imagine losing another child, losing you. “I swear you would be safe.” Is what he promises, his hold on you tightening even more. As if his hug could shelter you from all the unknowns.

“I’m not asking for another. I’m not even sure I want another.” That clarification feels vitally important as his arms squeeze you tight. “I’m just saying, if it happened…I wouldn’t have to be scared.”

“You never have to be scared as long as I’m here.” He promises instantly. “If it happened, you ain’t gotta worry about me. I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a hell of a conversation to have almost by accident, considering you haven’t even had ‘traditional’ sex yet, but it’s important. Because you will. With the way you love him and the way he loves you, it’s not too far away. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, beautiful girl.” By accident, Joel had learned that you love when he cups your cheek gently, so he does it now.

“When you two are done being mushy, I’m ready to go.” Neither of you had even heard Ellie come downstairs again, but here she is, grinning at you and teasing unrepentantly.

“Well, if you’re ready to go, what are we waiting for?” Joel huffs sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the teenager.

“For you to change your smelly ass shirt.” Ellie snorts.

Joel rolls his eyes, but he pulls away, knowing that he had been sweating plenty while working on the pen. “I’ll be two minutes.” He promises you.

Two minutes is enough for you to put away the last of your sewing, and Joel comes back down in a clean shirt with a smile on his face, ready to take his girls to a movie. It never matters what the movie is, you always go, always thinking back to that first date from months ago when things had started falling into place.

“Dina and Ellie are probably going to go sit by themselves, do you want to sit with Tommy and Maria, or find a cozy spot?” Joel asks as all of you walk out of the house.

“I’m feeling cozy,” you admit, taking his hand to hold when he offers it to you. “But we can be cozy next to your brother and Maria if you like. I can’t even remember what the movie is tonight. You might want to actually watch it.”

“Naaaaaahhhhh.” There’s been too many movies between that first one and now, but he’s still concentrating on you. Just the normalcy of being in this position with you.

“Gross.” Bemoans the teenager just a few feet away, but Ellie smirks more these days when she teases you than she used to. Since admitting she likes Dina, she seems to get it a little more.

“Whatever kid.” Joel slings his arm around your shoulder, having talked about the more casual touches and setting boundaries for everyday life after you moved in. You hadn’t wanted him to ask permission every time and he hadn’t wanted you to feel you had to feel bad for not wanting to be touch. So you had introduced a color system. If it was a hands off moment, you would tell ‘red’ and he wouldn’t touch you. If you told him ‘yellow’ it was an ask day. ‘Green’, like you had confirmed earlier before Tommy had arrived, meant he was free to touch you in a non-sexual way without any questions.

The walk is easy. Halfway there Dina appears from her own house to join Ellie, and a little bit further down the road you’re joined by the two women who have taken on being Jackson’s schoolteachers. Casual chatting is easy tonight. You don’t worry when Ellie and Dina slip ahead to find seats in their own back corner. You don’t worry because there hasn’t been reason to. Not in so very long.

Joel looks around the room, not because he’s measuring a threat or searching for an exit, just…seeing who is here. He sees Maria and Tommy chatting with a town council member and he wonders how the interview went. Not enough to move from your side as he guides you towards a pair of chairs, but he notices a stranger standing off to the side, dumbly watching the scene in front of him. “Huh.” He grunts.

“Want to sit in back?” Your eyes are on Joel and there is mischief in your smile when you look up at him. His arm is still around you and there’s something in the casual care of it that you’ve grown to love.

“Yeah.” He looks into your eyes and a slight smirk makes his face transform from hard to playful. “Take up the back so the kids can’t have it. We’ll make out.”

"They're not gonna kiss the first time at the movies." From talking with Ellie you know that she and Dina are either a long way off from that happening — or possibly a kiss will happen that will spark the conversation and other necessary things. But either way, the first one is definitely not going to happen in public. "We can definitely steal some back row seats from them."

“Never know.” Joel leans in to whisper in your ear. “Figure she might be smarter than the average kid.”

"Smart enough to treat her girl right." You can agree to that entirely. For now you tuck into his side, weaving your way through the seats to find your customary place in a dark corner.

When you turn into the seats with your fingers tangled through Joel's, though, you stop short. Sitting with another one of the town council members who is always hounding Joel to accept their invitation to join, is a tall man with rounded shoulders and an unkempt beard. His hair is shaggy and his eyes skirt around the room furtively, sussing out as many details and inspecting as many faces as they can until they fall on you. "Oh god..." Freezing in place at Joel's side, your fingers dig into his arm immediately, clawing at him instead of your usual gentle grip. "I—Joel—I think I'm having a flashback," you murmur quietly, not trusting your eyes even though the man sitting six feet away looks almost nothing like he did when you left Chicago over a year ago.

“What?” Joel frowns and he immediately reaches out to stroke your neck like you enjoy. “Still green?” He asks quietly, unsure of what has you rattled, but if something is bothering your peace, he wants to help.

“I need you to tell me if you see that man.” As shaky and as quiet as your voice is — barely a whisper — you don’t take your eyes off of the figure sitting by the windows for even a second. “With the brown hair and the thin beard?”

Joel frowns and quickly turns around. “The green plaid?” He asks as he looks away from the man back to you, noting how your breath is starting to rapidly increase, you’re about to have a panic attack. “Black jeans?”

“Oh god…” You had been hoping it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t real. That it was just your mind ruining your good mood with conjured images and fears that had so recently been put to bed. But now your vision is blurring and your knees are buckling, and the world is spinning around you so quickly that you feel like you’re going to be sick as your skin starts to crawl. “How?” You keep repeating, over and over again, muttering the word to yourself like a broken record. “How is he here? How?”

Something is seriously wrong and Joel is a man who going to fix what’s wrong. Turning back around, the man is gone and he quickly stands, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s go, beautiful girl.” He rushes out, knowing you would not want to have whatever is going on made public.

“How?” It’s like your mind is stuck on the worst kind of repeated loop, bumping over that one word, and you feel so stiff and terrified that you can barely swallow despite nearly hyperventilating and the tears now streaming down your cheeks. “How did he get here? How did he find me?”

“Who, beautiful girl, who?” Joel pulls you outside the movie theatre that used to be the old electronics store and cups your cheeks. “Who is he?” He knows, he feels it in his gut, but he wants you to say it.

The light in your eyes, the one that has so carefully been fostered and nurtured over the months you’ve spent in Jackson and especially with Joel, has completely gone out as you hiccup over a sob. Even two syllables are too much to take when you had felt so safe. “Aidan.”

His jaw hardens, his eyes flattening and darkening at the mention of the man who had tortured you. Done unspeakable things to you and nearly broken you. The name he had hoped you wouldn’t say. “They had a stranger come in today.” Joel wishes he had gone now, interviewed this man. “He helped the scouting party and they brought him in to interview.” Joel rubs his hands up and down your arms. “I’ll talk to Tommy, get him kicked out. He won’t stay.”

“He saw me.” You had looked each other straight in the eyes. It’s how you knew, in the worst pit of your stomach, that you weren’t hallucinating him. “H-he’s never going to leave i-if he knows I’m—I’m here…”

“Look at me.” Joel’s voice hardens slightly, knowing you are about to break down and he wants to keep you clear-headed. “He. Won’t. Touch. You.” He promises slowly, clearly. “They aren’t gonna want that son of a bitch here. He must have lied to the council and that doesn’t go over with them.”

“How?” Is all you can manage, feeling months’ worth of happiness shred apart inside you. Joel has you leaning with your back to the side of the building, but with every passing second your legs are giving out beneath you and you’re starting to slide to the ground in a deluge of new tears. You’ll never be safe. It will never be over.

He knows that nothing he can say will make you feel better, nothing. “Let me take you home.” He insists. “Then I’ll talk to Tommy.”

“Please don’t leave?” Any chance you have at protection lies with him and him alone, and you’re now more certain than ever that if he leaves your side, you’re doomed.

“Okay, okay beautiful girl.” Joel pulls you close. “I won’t leave. Let me take you home and Ellie can come home on her own.”

“O-okay.” As long as he doesn’t leave you, that’s what matters right now, and you cling to Joel like a lifeline when you hear the building doors open around the corner and the sound of heavy boots on the street.

“Joel?” It’s Tommy’s voice calling into the night. He must have seen you bolt for the door.

“Shhhhh, shhhhh, it’s Tommy.” Even though you know it’s his brother, your body tenses and you let out a whimper that breaks Joel’s heart as much as it makes him what to rip this Aidan apart. “I’m over here.”

“Everything okay?” When Tommy saunters around the side of the building it is immediately apparent that something is extremely wrong, and the younger Miller brother frowns in confusion.

“That fucker the council let in.” Joel growls, turning a fierce glare on the younger Miller, even though he had nothing to do with it. “What’s his name?”

“Um…Michael? Mike? Turner, I think it was. Mike Turner. Why?” He doesn’t like how pale you look, or how hard you have obviously been crying, and Tommy crosses his arms in discomfort. “Did he say or do something?”

“His fucking name is Aidan.” Joel hisses, looking back at you and hating how you flinch at the mere name.

“What the fuck?” Tommy’s eyes blow wide at that accusation, knowing exactly who ‘Aidan’ is and why you aren’t thrilled to hear the name ever. “That motherfucker is Aidan Stokes? You’re sure?”

“I’m taking her home.” He tells his brother. “Have Ellie sleep at your place?” He knows you will have a bad night and the best thing is to minimize the people witnessing it. Tommy nods and Joel pulls you away from the walk. “And get that fucker the hell out of here.” He calls over his shoulder, wishing he could take care of the problem himself.

“I’m on it.” Tommy promises, taking in the expression of pure terror and twisted grief on your features. In thirty seconds flat it’s as if you’ve gone back to being the same panicked little creature that you were when he had found you almost a year ago.

“Come one, beautiful girl.” Joel’s hands are gentle, trying to soothe as he coaxes you along. “We will get back to the house. Ellie will be at Tommy’s, all safe, and you will be with me. I won’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” Even murmured under your breath, the apology sounds just like the shadow of yourself that you had been for so long before Joel walked into Jackson and into your life. Apologizing for taking up space. For infringing on anyone else’s existence. For having the audacity to exist yourself.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, beautiful girl.” If anything, he should apologize to you for not checking on that stranger. For exposing you to the terror of your past.

“Please don’t leave…” That thought is first and foremost in your head right now, barely even looking where you’re going through the sheet of shaky tears. You just can’t stomach the thought of losing Joel now, after so much. It would be like losing everything.

“Why would I leave?” He asks softly, aware that you are vulnerable and scared after seeing the specter of your nightmares. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of me, beautiful girl, I’m right here.”

There is a surge of it’s not fair slicing through the undercurrent of your thoughts, but more than not fair and more than scary, the situation is volatile. “He doesn’t know…” you remind Joel, clinging to his arm like the lifeline that it is. “Th—that—that I buried the baby.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Joel promises you quietly. “He’s not going to bother you, not gonna touch you.” He knows that Tommy will do what’s necessary to get the fucker gone from the community. Especially given what he knows was done to you.

“He’s going to try to.” Somewhere in the worst pit of your stomach, you know Aidan will try his hardest to get to the child he thinks you still have. Regardless of whose baby it biologically was, he had always viewed it as his. There had been weeks and months of taunting you over how that baby was going to be his control over you. So much so that you were actually a little grateful when he died. For his sake as much as your own.

“He’s leaving. We will make sure he’s gone.” Tommy will, because Joel isn’t going to leave your side. “You’re safe, sweet girl, I’m not going to let him even talk to you.” Fury floods his entire body, dark and brooding. Angry that this man has stolen the hard fought peace that you have started enjoying.

It doesn’t take long to get home with Joel hustling you along the street, even if you live outside of the main reaches of what could be considered downtown. You’re bundled into the house and stay next to Joel, watching him lock the doors and carefully walk through the house to assure you that you’re safe.

“We’re safe.” Joel promises you, stripping off the light jacket you had brought with you and rubbing your arms. He wants to kiss you, but is unsure if it might trigger some memories for you.

“I don’t know how he found me.” That’s the real question for you, and you’ve been rolling it over and over in your head since your head stopped spinning as badly.

“Don’t think he was expecting you to be here.” Joel didn’t miss the surprise and fury in the man’s face when he looked over at him. “Unhappy accident.”

“Fucking miserable accident,” you sigh, letting yourself slump forward into Joel’s arms for all the security and warmth that they provide.

“I know, beautiful girl.” Joel growls, shaking his head. “He’s stolen your smile, and I’m not going to allow that. He’s not going to interrupt your peace again.”

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight." It's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit, the way ten seconds has stolen away (in Joel's words) a whole year of progress. "But I don't want you to not sleep on my account."

“You think I’m gonna sleep if you’re awake?” Joel would roll his eyes, but he knows you will just shut down even more. “No, beautiful girl, we can stay up together. Make sure that you are safe. And then, when he’s out of this town and out of our lives for good, we’ll sleep.”

"I'm sorry." The murmured apology is less for something you've done directly and more for the fact that you know this is affecting his life in a very distinct way now. A way that he would not have to worry about at all if not for you.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” He cups your cheek. Tilting your head up from where it’s looking down at the floor. Holding your chin is a no for you, but you don’t fight him. “Nothin’.” He repeats. “You want a hot bath? Soak? I can sit on the toilet seat while you do.”

"I just want to get in bed." Something about the vulnerability of being naked is too much to deal with right now and you shake your head slightly, hoping he will understand. "Can't exactly turn on the tv and zone out to a bad movie anymore." You wish you could, but because of that bastard you had to leave movie night.

“You want to change into your softest pajamas and then we can curl up?” Joel offers. “I can go into the bathroom and get you a glass of water while you change.”

"Stay with me?" The pajamas and curling up part sounds perfect, but you swallow thickly at the idea of him going anywhere. It's clingy, sure, but right now that's pretty fucking understandable. I don't...I don't think I can be alone."

“Always, beautiful girl.” Joel nods and he pushes the bedroom door almost closed after he steps back from you. Starting to shrug out of his jacket. “We’ll just pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist, hmm? Sound good to you?” He wishes he had some of the drugs he used to peddle in Boston, he would give you a few to calm you down if you wanted.

"Would you...mind talking to me?" The monologue in your head — all that noise that overtakes and overwhelms you with anxiety — quiets when Joel talks. Like your nerves are only willing to listen to him and him alone. "About anything. I just...it helps quiet all the angry thoughts."

“Sure, beautiful girl.” He’s dealt with this before, with Ellie after her run in with David, and he kicks off his shoes. “Thinkin’ I might take that council seat after all.” Tonight has been the deciding factor for him. “Have a say in who comes into this place. It’ll mean that some of the repairs will have to be done by Thompson, but he’s comin’ along. He’s not a complete idiot.”

"A town like this can't survive with just one good handyman." It's already better, just hearing him talk. The soothing cadence of Joel's voice sheds just a speck of anxiety everytime he opens his mouth and you remind yourself that you have to move. You're supposed to be changing your clothes to get ready for bed.

“Tommy’s better, but don’t tell him I said that.” His belt opens and he quickly unbuttons his jeans. “Man’s getting a little too cocky, strutting around here with that goofy grin of his.”

"He's happy." Tommy has a full life here. One that he reached out and took hold of with both hands and full determination. He has a wife and a baby and work that keeps him satisfied and busy. That's not the kind of thing he ever could have claimed about his life before Jackson. It's something to be proud of, and you're happy for your friend. Even if right now happy feels a million miles away.

“Yeah, he is.” It’s amazing to say, even more amazing to realize that his own feelings are pretty goddamn close to happy as well. At least until about twenty minutes ago. “What a loser.” He jokes, chuckling at his own lame joke. You have started undressing and he’s happy that you are focused on something else.

"Before tonight, I would have said we were happy, too." There is no lingering stroll across the room, or fully stripping down before completely redressing in your pajamas like usual. As soon as your regular shirt is off, the soft material of your sleep shirt replaces it. No sooner are jeans shed than warm sweatpants replace them. This is perfunctory, not an enjoyable and lazy night with your boyfriend.

“We are happy.” Joel soothes quietly. “Today is a bad day. Tomorrow might be too, but he’s not going to ruin our happiness, even if it takes a few steps back.” Joel sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as your fingers fumble with the edges of your shirt. “How do you want to cuddle, beautiful girl?” He asks. “You want me surrounding you? Or do you want to sprawl out on me?” He wants to give you as much control as possible right now, knowing how helpless you feel.

“I need you around me.” He really is your safe place. There is no doubt about that. But as you take a step toward him and the bed, the sounds of someone pounding on the front door downstairs ring through the brittle air.

Joel’s springing to his feet and frowning. Especially since you immediately look like you’re about to faint. “Go to the bathroom.” He tells you. “Lock the door.”

There are a lot of thing a in the world that you doubt — almost everything, really — but not Joel. Even though you feel frozen you manage to do what he tells you, grasping him in a tight hug before he closes the bathroom door for you beside your bedroom and you click the lock into place. Do you need him around you to feel safe and supported? Absolutely. But you’ve also learned to trust his instincts.

The hunting knife from the basement had been moved to his dresser and he grabs it before coming down the stairs. Listening to the pounding on the door as he crawls closer. On edge until he recognizes the silhouette of his brother.

The moment the door cracks open Joel sees the panic on Tommy’s face and his little brother smooths the hairs out of his face with one expressive hand. “Is she okay?” He asks immediately, your safety being top priority in this moment.

“She’s upset. But she’s fine.” Joel frowns, looking around. “Why are you here?”

The frown on Tommy’s lips is immediate, forehead creasing in apologetic embarrassment. “He’s—Stokes— he’s gone,” he admits quietly, just in case you’re nearby.

“He’s gone?” Joel frowns and steps outside. “What the fuck does that mean? You’ve already kicked him out?” It doesn’t seem like Tommy would be so upset by this fact so something’s not adding up.

“By the time I got back into the movie he had bolted,” Tommy explains, obviously pained to have to admit that he’s fucked up your safety. Or at least that he feels like it’s his fault. “Town council’s got people patrolling and staked out all over and the movie’s going ahead so nobody gets spooked.”

Joel reaches out and grabs the edges of Tommy’s jean jacket. “I’m going to kill him.” He growls to his brother. “When he’s caught, I’m going to ‘escort’ him out of town. Won’t do it here, but she’s nearly catatonic with panic.”

“If I find him first, I’m getting a few hits in for what he did to her,” his brother promises him. Tommy’s felt like an overprotective brother since the day he brought you into town. These days? He takes the job pretty literally.

“Shit.” Joel lets go of Tommy’s jacket and steps back into the opened door. “I need to— don’t tell her.” He warns him. “If he’s not caught right away. I can’t— we aren’t leavin’ this house.”

“It’ll only make her more scared to know he’s running around.” Tommy can absolutely agree to that, though he knows you might be upset with them later for not keeping you completely informed. The less fear and panic you feel, the better.

“I’m not gonna tell her, but I’m not gonna let her leave until I know that fucker is in ropes, ready to be lead to slaughter.” Joel frowns.

“Fair enough.” Considering Tommy has a knife in one pocket and a gun on his other hip, it’s fair to bet that he feels the same way. “I’m sorry, Joel. If I’d have been faster we coulda taken care of this easily. But we’ll get it sorted.” He’s ready to go — ready to join the patrol that is currently stalking the streets of Jackson — when he hears a sound in the basement.

Joel freezes, eyes narrowing as he listens. The second step from the bottom of the basement stairs creaks and it just made a sound. “He fucking— that bastard.” Joel hisses, spinning around and rushing towards the basement door.

The door makes a sickening crack when Joel throws it open, but Tommy is on his heels. The motherfucker followed them. He took a look at a happy and healthy and thriving woman and decided to ruin her again. He just didn’t bet on the fucking Miller brothers to be in his way.

Joel goes barreling down the stairs, lowering his shoulder at the figure that is about halfway up. Grunting when he connects with the body, Joel pushes off the stairs and launches both him and the motherfucker into the air.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” When he hits the ground he’s sure he hears something crack in his shoulder. The figure that flew at him is a blur and there’s more footsteps on the stairs that he can’t see the owner of through the fist headed straight for his face.

The first crack of a fist hitting bone is sharp, pain blooming in his fist and radiating up his arm, but Joel barely registers it. Fury numbing him to the pain and adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Fucker.”

“What—fuck—what the fuck?!” Putting up his arms to cover his face and thinking fast, he tries to pull away and keep from getting his face ruined.

"Break into my house." Joel growls furiously, pulling his fist back again and letting it fly. "Looking for her."

“Looking for my baby!” It’s the sympathy vote. Banking on shame and embarrassment and not being willing to tell the entire story to worm his way through the details. The sob story is his best chance of not getting his face beat in.

Joel knows what the man is doing. He had heard the same sad excuses used by others once upon a time when he was less than scrupulous. Not that he's an upstanding citizen now, but this is personal. "Didn't knock." Joel points out as he grabs the man's jacket and hauls him up so that the single light from a bare bulb illuminates your tormentor's face and gives his own a dark, foreboding, shadow as he glares down at him. "Big mistake." He grunts right before punching him again.

“Wait—wait!” Kicking his legs and barely managing to throw the next blow, the descent of another assailant at the bottom of the stairs and another fist comes out of nowhere along with a pained scream.

“Why are you here?” Joel roars, gripping the man with both hands and shaking him like a rag doll, furious that he would dare break in to harm you.

“For my baby!” He tries again, mind not really working hard on a new excuse when he’s trying to fend off now two grown men apparently intent on beating the shit out of him.

“There is no baby.” From the top of the stairs, your voice cuts through the din — shaky but loud enough to be heard.

Joel’s head twists around and he stares at the black figure at the top of the stairs. “We have him.” He pants, keeping the iron grip on the man who had tortured you and makes him hiss in pain when he grabs his hair and yanks his head back for you to see his already battered face. He knows it pains you to admit your son is gone, but he’s concentrating on your safety.

“I can see that.” The click of metal comes before you step down the stairs, Joel’s gun held out in front of you with a surprisingly steady hand. “I could hear it from upstairs.”

“You don’t have to be around him.” Joel promises you, keeping an eye on you as you descend the stairs with the gun in your hand. He knows you won’t shoot him, but you could drop the revolver.

From catatonic with fear to oddly quiet and resolute, your entire mood has changed in the mere minutes that Joel has been gone. It was the idea that he could hurt Joel that changed everything. That the happiness that you’ve fought so hard for here in Jackson could be taken by the same man who stole your entire sense of self for so long. That isn’t going to happen. “He’s in our house,” you remind Joel flatly. As if to say that makes him both our problem.

“Our house?” The man on the ground has the audacity to sneer the question. Making Joel hiss. “Managed to get your hooks into this one already? Knew you were a slut.”

Joel growls, turning around and slamming the man into the concrete so his head bounces few good times before yanking him up again. “Shut the fuck up before I rip your goddamn tongue out.” He warns darkly.

“Why are you here, Aidan?” Making no mistake about the action, you very deliberately aim the revolver at his chest and put your thumb on the hammer.

“I’m— they brought me here!” He cries, eyes widening and darting back to look at the two men who are towering over him. He hadn’t thought you would be protected like this when he broke in. “Not for you! Why would I want a whore like you?” He shakes his head, addressing Tommy and Joel. “She’s—don’t know how many men she’s fucked here, but she was in Chicago with us—my group. She spread her legs for anyone.” He lies desperately.

Carefully cocking the revolver is the sound that cuts through Aidan’s bullshit, and Tommy is staring at you in completely silent wonder as he and Joel hold tight to your attacker. “I know why you’re in Jackson, asshole. I’m asking why you’re in my basement.”

“I don’t—I didn’t—you bit—” the comment is cut off by a howl of anguish, his body jerking.

Joel has just driven his hunting knife into the meaty flesh of his thigh above his knee. “Fucking lie to her and I’ll pop your kneecap off like a pimple.”

It turns out that under the layers of fear and the layers of trauma, it’s protecting your family that is what brings out the deadliest tendencies in you. Thinking about what could have happened if Ellie or the baby were here? It snapped you out of all that terror faster than blinking. “One more time. Why are you here?”

Sobbing, Aidan isn’t nearly as powerful as he had been in Chicago. He had assumed this little town was his ticket to safety, to shelter. Until he had seen you and immediately decided that he would use you to solidify his position here in this place. He had been warned by the council that if it didn’t work out he would be taken out into the wilderness and left. “For you. You’re mine.” He tells you, looking at you with a pitiful, pleading expression. “I love you, baby. And you swore you would always love me.”

“He told you not to lie to me.” Surprising to everyone including yourself, you step forward and finally come off the bottom step to stand on the basement floor. “I don’t belong to you and I don’t love you and everybody in this room knows what you and your cronies did to me so don’t fucking lie about it.”

“I can’t go back out there.” Aidan confesses, grimacing in pain and trying not to move too much because of the knife embedded in his thigh. “I won’t— I can’t be out there. You can make it to where I can stay.”

At the idea that you would help him in any way, you actually laugh out loud. “You’re not going back out there,” you promise him with dark surety. “But that’s mostly because you’re not leaving this basement. If I don’t kill you?” You nod to Joel, knowing full well that you’re being honest. “He will.”

“You were a dead man the moment I found out who you were.” Joel growls honestly. Even if the town council had let him go, Joel would have tracked him down. Wanting to make sure that there was no way he could ever show back up in your life.

“So the only thing you get to decide is how fast you die.” With the revolver still in your hand, you raise your arm to point it at his head instead of at his chest where there is too much chance of hitting something that will only wound but not kill him. “I can do this quickly. Or I can let him tear you apart.” The nod to Joel is understood, but for some reason you can’t stomach the idea of Aidan Stokes knowing anything about your happy life. Not even Joel’s name.

Joel watches you for a moment and then lets Aidan go, straightening up and stepping back. He wont stop you if this is what you want to. It’s your right, your fucking right to end this piece of shit if you want.

“Fast or slow, Aidan?” Not that you were given a choice in how you were tortured. Or your son was given a choice in how long he lived. Not that Joel was given a choice in keeping Sarah. Not that Aidan will truly get to choose, either. You’ve already made up your mind what will happen to him.

“Babe...please.” Aidan shakes his head. “You don’t— this isn’t you. You love me.” He protests.

“It’s the person you made me.” You tell him flatly, before carefully holding the gun out to Joel. “However you want to do it,” you tell him flatly, before turning and taking Tommy’s arm to leave the basement. The truth is that you aren’t sure you could pull the trigger, even after everything you’ve been through. But you sure as hell never want him touching another living being ever again.

Joel smirks, a dark look in his eyes and Tommy swallows. He knows what Joel is capable of when he wants to be vicious. “Do you want to watch, beautiful girl?” His voice is soft. Deceptively so.

“No.” In the back of your mind you know that Joel will hold back if you are here, and that is a mercy that Aidan doesn’t deserve. “We’re going to sit upstairs. Come up when you’re done.” There will be more work to do at that point. There will be cleaning and disposal of a body you intend to spit on once it’s in the ground.

“Baby, wait.” Aidan’s panicked voice is laughing nervously. “You don’t mean that. It’s not funny, tell him you’re joking.” He begs. “Tell him you’re joking!”

You stop on the second step, the one that squeaks and now you don’t think you ever want Joel to repair it. With a drawn face and nothing but hardness in your eyes, you turn and shake your head at the man who has tortured you in so many different ways for years. “Rot in hell, Aidan.”

“Baby…baby…” his voices rises in panic and his eyes widen, scrambling to his feet and groaning at the wound in his leg. “Baby, don’t go! Don’t do this!” Joel lifts his foot and plants it in the middle of Aidan’s chest to kick him back down.

The last sounds he gets from you is the definite thumping of your heels on the ground floor and the slamming shut of the basement door followed by the click of the lock that holds it in place. Of course there is a mechanism on the other side so it can be opened by anyone downstairs as well, but it's the principle of the thing. That his fate has been sealed, and by you.

“You should leave now.” Joel tells Tommy seriously. What he’s about to do might get him in serious trouble with the town council and he doesn’t want to fuck things up for his younger brother. He’s got Maria and the baby to think about. If Joel gets kick out of Jackson, you can come with him.

Tommy doesn't say anything, but only nods and hustles up the stairs after you. He unlocks the door to let himself out into the kitchen then locks it again behind him, unsure of the state he'll find you in.

All the emotion you have is basically tied up in exhaustion, which has you leaning against the kitchen counter when Tommy appears. Whatever Joel is going to do downstairs is up to him. But whatever it is, you sincerely hope it causes the man who hurt you as much pain as absolutely possible on his way out of this life.

The sounds start almost immediately. The dull thwack of something hitting something soft, followed by a muffled cry. Repeated in a symphony of motion that could almost have a rhythm until it pauses. Followed by a low murmur and a vicious howl of agony.

“Self defense,” you murmur a few seconds later, looking up at Tommy. “He broke into our house. Joel had to act in self-defense.” The council will ask questions. You know that. But you aren’t about to let anything happen to Joel as a result of what just happened downstairs. If need be, you will stand in front of the town’s leadership and tell them exactly what he did to you in excruciating detail. They won’t argue after that.

“I’ll tell ‘em the same thing.” Tommy immediately agrees. “After all, he did break in.” He steps closer to you, a frown on his face pulling his mustache down. “How are you holdin’ up? I know— honey, I’m so goddamn sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have. It’s not like I showed you his picture or anything.” You’re definitely not doing well, but you’re doing better than you thought you would be with all things considered.

“I should have asked more questions.” Tommy shakes his head and is still going to blame himself. A high pitched squeal comes from the basement door and he looks over at it knowingly.

“That assumes that he would have given honest answers.” You shake your head and pour two short glasses of water, offering one to Tommy and sipping the other for yourself. The antique clock nearby reads almost one in the morning and you frown at it, shaking your head. “It’s over now. Joel is finishing the job and I can start to sleep a little bit deeper at night.”

The low moan of pain is almost animalistic, long and drawn out, is almost cut off with a wet gurgle. Tommy shifts, almost visualizing what Joel is doing to cause that sound.

“He deserves it,” you remind Tommy, who fidgets at the sounds coming from the basement. “I’m just glad Ellie is at your house. She shouldn’t have to hear any of this.”

“I know he deserves it.” Tommy nods. “I just know what Joel is doing based on the sounds.” He admits. “There was a time that we…weren’t the best people.”

“I know.” Joel has told you some of his own past. Nothing too graphic, but enough that you had a very solid idea of what he is capable of. “That’s why I know he’ll finish the job when I don’t think I could.”

“I think you would have.” Tommy argues. “You looked like you would have pulled the trigger right then when you came down those stairs.”

You nod, thinking perhaps you might really have done it right there in the beginning. But you’ll never know. “There’s no guarantee that my aim would have been good enough to kill him.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Tommy snorts. “It’s amazing what can happen when the people you love are threatened.” As if agreeing, another sound comes from the basement.

The clock draws your eye again, and you glance out the window up at the moon before looking back at Tommy. “It’s his birthday,” you tell him quietly. “The baby’s. He should be one today.”

Tommy bites his lip and nods, understanding that this is a bittersweet day for you. “Then it’s just that it’s today that bastard draws his last breath.”

"They always say babies look like their father, but he didn't. He looked like me." At least you could be grateful for that, if nothing else. "It's a small mercy."

“He was beautiful then.” Tommy tells you quietly, patting your shoulder and wondering if you wanted a hug. “Inside and out.”

“Thank you.” It’s enough that Tommy is kind. That you have come to know and to trust him as a brother over the last year. It’s enough that he’s here and he’s supportive. Even if being supportive just means standing with you in silence while Joel finishes what needs to be finished downstairs.

Slowly, footsteps sound on the stairs. Not a thudding, heavy trod, but weary. Stopping at the top and there’s a small knock, just one rap of a knuckle against the wood.

You make it to the door before Tommy does, flipping the lock and pulling it open to reveal Joel on the top step with more than a little blood on him.

The vicious fire is gone, extinguished from his eyes and replaced with a weary sense of peace. He doesn’t reach for you, aware that you could be repulsed by the sight of him. “It’s done.” He sighs out. “He’ll never fuckin’ bother you again.”

There is no blood on his face somehow, no remnant there of the work he’s done besides the sweat on his forehead, and you kiss him softly before stepping back. “Go wash up, love. Tommy and I will take care of things from here, and then I’ll come to bed. Is that okay?”

Joel’s eyes slide over to Tommy and he silently communicates with him. “That’s fine, beautiful girl.”

******

It’s hours later when you fulfill that promise, dragging yourself up into your bedroom in the black of night to find Joel sitting up in bed staring at the wall. “I’ll wash,” you tell him wearily, the adrenaline of fear and finality having dissipated into the night. Now you’re just bone tired.

Joel nods. “I’ll run you a bath.” He moves slowly, groaning as he gets up from the bed and shuffles towards the bathroom. His hand is broken, fractured in several places and it will be a bitch to work for the next several weeks, but he doesn’t care. As long as you are safe, he will shoulder any pain.

“I—” In the doorway of the bathroom you pause, sunken shoulders and drawn face returning you to the sad, guilty version of yourself that you so often are when thoughts or even conversation turns to the topic of your past. It hangs in the air tonight like a heavy fog. “I’m sorry. For asking you to do that. But when I got downstairs I realized that I couldn’t pull the trigger, I just…I knew that you could.”

Joel frowns when he turns from the edge of the tub, reaching for the faucet to turn it on. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He grunts quietly, shaking his head. “Come here, beautiful girl.”

“Asking you to kill for me seems like it warrants an apology,” you point out, though you willingly let him draw you into his chest without hesitation. The whole night was meant to be relaxed and rejuvenating and it had turned into hell.

“I would kill for you a hundred more times.” Joel huffs quietly. “I was afraid.” He admits. “Afraid that you would be afraid of me after seeing the aftermath.”

“Afraid of my knight returning from battle?” You shake your head against his chest and inhale the comforting scent of clean Joel. “I owe you everything. Hell…I wanted to give you everything anyway.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing.” Joel huffs, relaxing against you and slipping his arms around your back. You seem crave the shelter of him right now, so he won’t even ask if you are comfortable. “I love you. I—you are perfect.”

“No I’m not.” It’s not even self deprecating, but you look up at him with a serious expression, arms tight around his waist. “But as long as we’re the right kind of imperfect for each other, I’m okay with that.”

“Let me take care of you, beautiful girl.” He murmurs softly. “I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

******

The next summer is sunny and hot, giving you an excuse to wear all of the cute dresses that you had made for yourself from scraps and hand-me-downs over your time in Jackson. Today is definitely not the day for scraps, though. Today you have possibly the nicest dress you have ever made for yourself. The soft yellow fabric is embroidered with flowers that match the crown of wildflowers that Dina helped you weave for your hair, and even though your belly is now big enough to be in the way more often than not, you feel like you’ve finally earned the name that Joel has been calling you since the very first night you went to the movies together more than a year ago. Tommy is with Joel and Ellie over at your house this morning while you’re getting ready for the day with Maria and cooing over the toddler that she and Tommy have devoted all of their time and love to. It’s a very big day. One that is both a long time coming and feels like it came at you faster that lightning.

“Too goddamn old for this.” Joel grumbles, running his hand over his surprisingly smooth cheek. The barber had offered a shave to go with the haircut this morning and he had decided to just leave a mustache. Tommy snickers and his older brother stops his pacing long enough to glower at him. “I’m fucking fifty-eight years old, about to get married and have a baby.” He’s not upset, he’s nervous, afraid of fucking it up. Wanting the hard fought for happiness that seems to be everyday life now.

“Nobody told you to propose, old man,” Tommy teases, getting a fist bump from Ellie for his effort.

Joel huffs and shakes his head. “What kinda man would I be if I didn’t?” He asks. “It’s my baby.”

“That’s Dad that I hear in there.” Still, Tommy can’t judge too much — and he isn’t, not really — since he did the same thing. “We’re damn lucky to have these women and we know it. We gotta keep them close.”

“Still can’t believe it.” Once the dragon of your nightmares had been slayed in real life, you had blossomed. It was like you had still been living with the subconscious fear that Aidan would find you. Now that he had been unceremoniously burned, his ashes buried, that weight had fallen off of you and very naturally, you had eased into a physical intimacy with Joel. It happened the first time. One time inside you and he had gotten you pregnant.

"You act like you didn't know where babies come from. Or forgot." Ellie is kicked back in the living room of the house in a full suit and tie with her boots all cleaned and shined for the occasion. Since Tommy is going to be the one to actually marry you on behalf of the Town Council, she's standing up as Joel's Best Person. "Do we need to draw you a diagram, old man?"

“Listen, brat—” Joel points his finger at the teenager. “Just because you can’t get pregnant with Dina, doesn’t mean you can get cocky.” He raises a brow. “Or should I make it a rule you gotta keep your door open when she’s over?”

"You wouldn't?!" That has her drawing back immediately, wide eyed and extremely displeased with the idea of not having privacy with her girlfriend.

“Mmmmhmmm.” He chuckles and straightens back up, pleased to have made his point, even if he was only teasing. “Now I just get to worry about everything all over again.”

"You've got help this time." While he's not proud of it, Tommy knows he wasn't a hugely helpful part of raising Sarah. He'd done what he could back then but he just had no idea how to be anything besides a playmate. Now, with a young child of his own, he's prepared to be a fully functioning extra pair of hands should you and Joel need the help.

"Uncle Tommy and Big Sister Ellie." The teen plants her fists on her hips and grins. "What could possibly go wrong?"

“God help us all.” Joel huffs, even though he’s extremely pleased with the sentiment. “You think she’s ready yet?” He asks, glancing at the clock impatiently. “Damn woman wanted to wait to get married, and she’s about to pop.”

"Just as long as she doesn't go into labor at the reception," Tommy jokes, shaking his head. That had happened one of his old Army buddies way back when.

“Oh fuck.” Joel’s eyes widen at the possibility.

“Christ, Tommy,” Ellie groans, throwing a pillow at the younger Miller. “Don’t get him all freaked out.”

“Doc Sanchez is gonna be there, right?” He asks Tommy, ignoring the eye rolling. Most of the damn town is going to be at the second ever Jackson wedding, both of them ironically Millers, but he has to be sure.

“The whole ass town is going to be there.” Tommy hoists himself out of his seat to try to soothe his brother. Joel wants this, he’s just nervous as all hell. “But yes, Doc Sanchez will be there.”

“Good.” Joel blows out a breath and grins, a halfcocked thing that lights up his face and makes him look younger, softer. “Fuck, I’m getting married.”

“How you found two different women willing to put up with your shit forever, I’ll never know.” He pats his brother on the shoulder, but Tommy is grinning too. He knows how much you and Joel love each other, and how you’ve eased the stings and bruises of each other’s pasts.

“Don’t know, but I’m lucky.” Joel admits easily. You know about his past with Tess and don’t feel jealous of it, which he is grateful for.

“It’s almost time.” Ellie points at the clock on the mantle and hops to her feet, ready to snap the straps on her suspenders if she was wearing any.

The wedding is supposed to be simple, but it doesn’t feel that way. His heart is in his throat and he remembers another wedding, a lifetime ago, and he knows it will be better than that one. He never regretted being with his ex-wife, because he had Sarah, but he knows he will be a better partner, husband, and hopefully father this time around. He’s getting a second chance at life and he’s not going to take it for granted. “Let’s go get me married.”

******

The wedding was supposed to be simple, but it didn’t end up feeling that way. The flowers cut by neighbors and friends from their gardens, the food cooked and delivered from kitchens all around town, and the few musically inclined folks coming together to make a band all mean that this morning at town hall felt like the most exquisite frontier wedding you could ever ask for, and now that the reception is in full swing it’s probably the biggest party that Jackson’s seen since well before the world ended. Mr. and Mrs. Miller pronounces the hand drawn sign on the little table where you and Joel are sitting, eating your lunch and watching people move to and fro filling their plates and saying their hellos. In time you’ll start the dancing, but for now the first one to get their boogie on is the peanut you’ve been carrying around for the last eight months.

You grimace slightly and Joel is immediately turning towards you. The wedding band on his finger feels foreign but he ignores the way it catches the light as he reaches out to touch your stomach. Feeling the baby has been unlimited for him, although your days of not wanting to be touched are becoming few and far between. “Are you okay, beautiful girl?” He asks quietly, trying to alarm anyone, including himself.

“The baby’s dancing on every organ he can find,” you joke, having been certain for months now that you’re having another boy. You don’t really know how you know. You’re just completely certain.

He manages to crack a grin, something frequent that happens when he’s feeling the baby pound against his palm through your uterus. “Wants to dance, feelin’ a little left out in there.” He murmurs softly, looking up into your eyes.

“You’ve still got a little baking left to do in that oven, buddy,” you murmur, smoothing your hand over your belly and laughing when that only seems to illicit more activity. “Just let us have today, sweet boy. That’s all we ask.”

He hopes that this baby brings you the joy you had missed with your last child. He has worked tirelessly to make sure that your every need has been taken care of and you can have the least stressful pregnancy at the end of the world as possible.

“Are you happy we did this, love?” You ask, covering his hand with yours over your belly. Technically it was Joel’s idea to get married, telling you that he’s just old fashioned enough that if you were going to make a family together that he wanted you to be a family in that traditional way. You’d even gone through the trouble of making a set of formal adoption papers to say that Ellie was officially your daughter.

“Of course I am.” Even with all the nerves and worries that he holds on his shoulders, he doesn’t regret this. He knows you are safe and if something ever happens to him, Tommy and Ellie and all the citizens of Jackson will help you and protect you. “How about you, beautiful girl? You happy to be the second Mrs. Miller in town?”

“If we’re going by Victorian rules, I’m the Mrs. Miller and Maria is considered second. Perks of marrying the older brother.” It’s dumb, though, and you know it just comes from too many period dramas back in your teens. “Of course I’m happy, love. This is…honestly? It’s not the way my dreams happened when I was younger but all the boxes are perfectly checked. And you’re even better than any of the guys I imagined way back then.”

He huffs out a small laugh and wonders what kind of man you had originally thought about. “Well, I hope that it continues to be what you want. If it’s not, you give me hell and I’ll change what needs changing.”

“Same for you.” You acknowledge seriously, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Nothing is really ever perfect, so if something needs fixing, we fix it. Together.”

“Together.” Joel nods, smiling down at the bump and then up at you. Ellie’s laughter catches his attention and he watches as the girl who had brought him to Jackson dances with Dina, beaming at her girlfriend as she holds her close. The journey to this moment had been full of anger, heartbreak, tears and loss, but right now the future for Joel and his little family looks bright.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

N2N: @missladym1981, @orcasoul

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #ptsd #assault survivor #dead dove #do not eat #dead dove do not eat

[zoeykallus]

Hi! I read your Bad Batch baby HC and really enjoyed them! How would the guys react to a parter telling them that they’re infertile? I hope you’re having a good day/night!

Aloha!

Now, that's a heavy hitter and an interesting one indeed.

The Bad Batch x Afab!Reader HCs - True Affection

Hurt/Comfort/Infertility/Fluff

_____________________

Hunter

By now it is absolutely clear, your relationship is something serious, you have reached the next level. You get nervous, because now, at the latest, you should tell him the truth. When you take him aside and cautiously address him about it, he looks at you confused at first. Hunter can't immediately process what you're saying.

You watch him quietly think for a moment, just a moment ago he was all jovial, now he suddenly seems so serious, it makes you nervous.

"I'm sorry about that" he finally says quietly, "How are you coping?"

You sigh and say, "I've more or less made my peace with it by now. I've known for a while now. It was hard at first, but now I realize that fretting over things you can't change is wasted energy. So I've accepted it and decided to make the best of it, to just enjoy my life."

Hunter nods slowly, then smiles tenderly.

"I'm glad you have this confidence in me to tell me".

He takes your hands in his and kisses your forehead.

You say softly, "Well, our relationship has been going on for a while and I thought it would only be fair to tell you about it before you start to…. plan a family."

Hunter laughs softly and says, "Sweetie, we have enough work keeping my brothers and Omega in check. Besides, should we really feel the urge to raise kids someday, there are more than enough out there who need a home"

You take a deep breath, leaning against him in relief. This is a conversation you imagined would be harder. Hunter holds you gently and strokes your back soothingly, sensing the restlessness in you that is just very slowly subsiding.

He says softly, "My love for you remains unchanged."

Tech

"Tech, can we talk for a moment?"

Normally he would have nodded, continuing to work, looking at you briefly and saying, "Sure," but he hears something in your tone that makes him look up. Tech slowly puts the holopad aside and looks at you very intently. Somehow, this undivided attention on his part makes you even more nervous than you already are.

You turn around, close the cockpit door behind you, and sit down with him.

"You look heavy-hearted. Did something happen?" he asks quietly.

You don't know how to begin, so you just blurt it out.

"I can't give you children, I'm infertile".

Tech raises his eyebrows in surprise, he certainly wasn't expecting this topic. At first moment, he doesn't even know what to say. A thousand possible answers run through his head, but in the end only a rather simple, "I see" comes out of his mouth.

It's so hard for you to pull yourself together, your voice trembles slightly as you say, "I thought you should know, to be fair. Before things get to the next level between us… you know, couples usually start planning families and stuff at some point."

Tech blinks, pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, then turns all the way around in his chair to face you. Now you're even more nervous, usually in conversations (no matter with whom) Tech is usually busy with up to three other things, but here and now he's fully focused on you. There is a certain excitement, you feel flattered, there is a tingling under your skin, usually only in intimate hours he is really fully attentive. But in this context, your heart beats up to your neck with fear.

"You're scared," he states.

"Is it that obvious?"

Tech nods.

"I know you well enough to see it. It's pretty obvious. But from my point of view, true affection, true love, is not tied to the possibility of procreation. However, I understand that it is quite natural to feel this desire, it is in the nature of almost all living things to reproduce."

You nod slowly, not quite knowing whether to be relieved or still nervous.

"My affection for you, is not tied to the possibility of starting a family," he finally says matter-of-factly, "I hope this helps you overcome your fears regarding our relationship. I'm not going to turn my back on you over this."

You take a deep breath, the tension falling from you, a single tear rolling down your cheek, which he gently brushes away with one of his long fingers.

"Are you sure about that?" you inquire softly.

"Of course I am, I don't say things like that lightly. You have my deep, unconditional affection."

Echo

When you bring up the subject of children, he looks at you in surprise. He didn't really expect that, up to now his life hadn't necessarily followed a normal course, he hadn't thought about family planning yet, even though you've been together for a while. Echo is very happy and content with what you have as a couple. The trust, the affection, the intimacies, the quiet hours and the loving little silliness. It's already more than he would have ever dared to hope for before.

Echo says thoughtfully, "Honestly, I didn't think about it until now. It was never really a part of my future plans so far," he says thoughtfully.

With a heavy heart, you tell him, "As long as you're with me, I'm afraid that won't change. I am infertile."

Echo raises his brows in surprise, his expression softening. He knows you well enough to see how hard it is for you to broach the subject.

"It weighs heavily on your heart, doesn't it?"

You nod with a sigh.

Echo takes you in his arms, squeezes you gently, and asks, "How long have you been struggling with this thought?"

"Quite a while," you admit quietly.

"Oh darling," he says softly, "There's no need for that. You're my better half, I'm incomplete without you, nothing will change that. I'm so sorry that this has burdened you."

You take a deep breath, wrap your arms around him and feel deep gratitude for his understanding, his affection.

Echo says tenderly, "If you ever really want to be a mother, we can always think about adoption, there are enough children who need a home. All that matters to me is knowing you are by my side."

"Are you sure that won't change?" you ask softly.

Echo kisses your forehead and brushes a stray tear from your cheek.

"Absolutely sure! Honey, you're all I really need. Don't worry, you can be sure of my love."

Wrecker

He is so good with children, the children love him no matter where he goes. It's a beautiful image, but also one that triggers deep pain in you, fear. In a village you saved from some pirates, at the little party they hold to honor the batch, practically all the kids are attached to him, they all want to play with him and show him things.

You watch this for quite a while, but your thoughts turn somber and a lump forms in your throat. You'll never have kids of your own, and you don't know how to tell Wrecker. Hunter looks at you, sensing something is wrong. As your eyes meet, he asks gently, "Are you okay?"

You force yourself to smile, take a deep breath, and lie, "I'm just tired, maybe I should go to sleep."

You get up from the table, and retreat into the Marauder. A few minutes later, when you are more or less comfortable in the bunk, reading a book to take your mind off things, Wrecker comes in. He looks at you tenderly, concerned.

"Did you get rid of the kids?" you ask with a small smile.

"Hunter said something was wrong with you. He said you've retreated and that I should check on you."

You sigh, "Of course he did."

Wrecker sits down on the edge of the bunk and reaches for your hand.

"What's wrong sweetie?"

You swallow, collect yourself, and finally say, "When I saw you with the village kids earlier, I realized we needed to talk about something"

Wrecker frowns questioningly.

"Oh yeah?"

You say directly, as if quickly ripping off a Band-Aid, "I'm infertile".

Wrecker sits silently, looking at you uncomprehendingly. The information takes a moment to sink in. After a while, he says, "You can't have children of your own."

You nod, put the book aside and run your free hand over your face.

"Yes, unfortunately. That means we can't have children together"

"'Scooch over," he prompts you, lying down next to you.

Still holding your hand, he is now lying next to you.

"Okay, that's unfortunate, and I suspect that's not easy for you, but it's not the end of the world" he says thoughtfully.

"Oh no?" you ask critically.

"No," Wrecker says with conviction, "we do love each other, don't we?"

"I love you very much, yes"

He turns his head to look at you and smiles.

"See, we don't need much more than that. I love you with all my heart. And you can adopt children too if you really want some."

You laugh softly.

"Is it really that simple? Doesn't that bother you at all?"

Wrecker says softly, "The only thing that bothers me is that it makes you unhappy. I want to see you smile, love."

You kiss his chin and say, "Don't worry, Wrecker, you make me very, very happy."

Crosshair

He responds pretty matter-of-factly when you tell him you're infertile.

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

He asks, "What do you want to hear?"

You throw your arms in the air.

"I don't know, but maybe something more than just an 'okay'"

Crosshair sighs, sits down and says, "Kids were never part of my life plan, and honestly I don't want any. So for me, nothing has changed"

You frown, not sure if you're happy with that answer. On the one hand, it's good to know, but it seems so insensitive. However, you're actually used to his rather edgy manner by now.

"Okay, good to know," you say with a sigh, not in the mood to argue with him or pull the words out of his nose.

But as you turn away to leave the room, you feel his hand on your shoulder. You stop but don't turn around.

"Listen, Kitten," Crosshair says more gently, "I can't imagine how much of a burden this must have been on you, and I can understand that my reaction didn't come across as very sensitive."

You remain silent and wait. He spins you around so that you have to look at him.

"But like I said, nothing changes for me. You're still mine, Kitten and you always will be, whether your uterus works or not doesn't change that. Stop pouting, sweetie."

You roll your eyes and a small laugh crosses your lips, relief finally coming.

"The way you express yourself sometimes…" you say with a sigh.

He shrugs his shoulders.

"As direct as possible, you know me".

You smirk, and he gently kisses the corner of your mouth.

" That's how I like your face much better, Kitten, with that little smirk of yours".

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

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@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

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@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

#tw infertility #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #clone force 99 #sw tbb #clonelove #tbb tech #crosshair #bad batch tech #tech #hunter #wrecker #echo #fluff #hurt/comfort #star wars headcanons #tbb headcanons #hunter x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch of Eliot Spencer with long hair and in a sleeveless top, tied to an upright chair with his hands bound behind it and his neck held to the back of the chair with a thick leather band. He has blood and bruises visible on his face. In the background, beyond him, is Alexandra Bligh walking towards him and talking, and in the foreground is a close up of someone drawing a bright red liquid from a vial into a syringe. Black bars above and below the sketch is the text 'COMPOUND 002 -- 15 % w/v' and 'DOSE # 1 12/26/22 -- 17.04', respectively. End ID]

-

Day 15: Experimentation

Bligh makes a deal with some high ups in the FBI or CIA, gets released in order to oversee and run experiments into more effective methods for torture and interrogation using untraceable chemicals. Each experiment is recorded visually as well as notes taken.

Ficlet below the cut - part 2 of the three-parter started on Day 8

-

Parker hated the velvet softness of the night. Almost as much as she hated the glimmering stars that broke the darkness like thousands of unattainable diamonds.

How dare the evening be so peaceful and calm and beautiful when Eliot was in so much pain?

Or probably in pain.

He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. He had promised not to leave her and he wouldn't break a promise.

But they knew by now who had him and why, and it was impossible that Eliot was enjoying anything less than torment.

Because that was the point.

That was why they took him.

Using Hardison’s hacking access, they had managed to find out who took Eliot after almost two weeks of searching, and what they found was horrifying.

Alexandra Bligh, released before ever really getting to jail, had been extremely active.  Expenses that took some digging to find revealed rental payments for a building on a private island off the east coast, the hiring of a complete security team and of several scientists from within various government institutes, and purchase orders of chemical ingredients for some of the most brutal enhanced interrogation drugs currently in existence.

The funding had come from within government, through several layers of secrecy, but ultimately under the ordinance of a former member of the CIA. Someone who Vance - after being made to understand that Eliot was in severe danger - revealed had worked with Eliot on some classified operations under his command.

The funds had been transferred under the name of an operation that had very little digital trace, beyond the purpose, whose lengthy wording boiled down to: design new chemical means for breaking people, and the person in charge: Alexandra Bligh.

Hardison had researched the components while his and Breanna’s programs worked to search for Eliot, and privately told Parker what he thought they would do.

Like red haze mixed with toxins designed variously to trigger pain receptors, alter the threshold for pain and other unpleasant stimuli, and cause something called central sensitization, which Parker didn’t understand but it sounded bad.

Hardison’s simplified summary sounded worse. All the memory and sensation heightening effects of red haze, but now with added very real and very strong pain.

They were using Eliot Spencer as the test subject to develop more brutal, untraceable, methods of enhanced interrogation.

And all that on an island almost inaccessible by any stealthy means.

Now Parker was standing with Breanna on a dock in the darkness, waiting for Dr Not-Dead-Paul to bring around the boat they’d need to get to the island. They'd called him in to help in the recovery mission, in part because they needed someone trustworthy who could fight, and in part because they didn't know what state they'd find Eliot in. Having a medic who Eliot knew on hand could prove very useful.

It was Paul who suggested Harry and Sophie remain behind. Having been told what they believed Eliot had been kidnapped for, he cautioned against having too many people around at the point of rescue. Only the three of them needed for the rescue itself - Breanna to stay in the boat or just beside the building, using the proximity to get into their servers and then guide Parker and Paul to where Eliot was, and the thief and temporary hitter would then break him out and escape.

“What if you need more muscle to get out and Eliot can’t fight?” Breanna asked nervously, watching the headlights of the boat as it approached, “Shouldn’t we call in another hitter? Bligh looks like she hired a hell of a lotta security...”

“No time,” Parker watched beyond the boat into the darkness that hid Eliot somewhere inside it, “And Eliot will be able to fight.”

“He’s been tortured for weeks…”

“He’s been shot, stabbed, beaten, drugged, poisoned, and hit by cars, trucks and carnival rides, and still been able to fight. He’ll be fine.”

"Parker's right," Paul said, and Parker thought he sounded sad, "Eliot can handle being tortured. And, usually before, he’s had to fight his way out alone. No team to back him up."

"But he does this time," Parker smiled at Breanna and hoped it looked reassuring, "Eliot's going to be fine."

He had to be fine.

Like Paul said, Eliot had been through torture before, and probably for much longer than this. He’d been injured physically and tormented mentally more than enough times for this to be almost meaningless.

In theory.

But theory didn’t stop her being on edge and upset and angry at the beautiful night.

-

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Day 15: Experimentation #leverage redemption #eliot spencer #cw torture #Parker #Paul orozco #Breanna Casey #masks whump art

[kittygirl255]

 Code Lyoko is notoriously known for placing its main cast in constant danger. Many jokes have come from the fandom about certain characters being more prone to getting into danger than others. Out of curiosity, I decided to find out exactly which character nearly died the most and what attack was the deadliest. Starting from episode 1 ‘Teddygozilla’ to episode 95 ‘Echoes’ and logging each ‘death’ into a google spreadsheet. To simplify it, I’ve chosen to log the main characters, William, Sissi, and Jim. I also added two additional categories, Background Characters, and Special Mentions. Background Characters refers to characters that don’t have a prominent role in either the episode or series but are still mixed up in one of Xana’s attacks, while Special Mentions refer to characters that hold a prominent or semi-prominent role within the episode but are not important enough to get their own category.

One issue I came across right away was determining just what exactly counted as a ‘near-death.’ For example, in episode 7 ‘Image Problem’ Jeremie is thrown down a hatch connecting the scanner room to the computer’s mainframe. Depending on a combination of factors, from where he lands on the mainframe, to where on his body her lands, to the height he fell from, an argument could be made that he could possibly survive, but with severe injuries. To avoid the headache, I will be treating each case with a ‘live or die’ mindset. For Background Characters, I only counted each death as a singular entity to avoid calculating the estimated number of casualties. To calculate the exact toll would require more time and effort than I am willing to put in. With the perimeters set, allow me to showcase the results.

The season opens with ‘Teddygozilla’ with Ulrich and Aelita getting the first two deaths of the series, with Ulrich nearly being crushed to death, and Aelita almost falling into the digital sea. Jeremie, Odd, Yumi, Sissi, and Jim join the roster in episode 2 when a nuclear power plant nearly explodes. Episode 11 becomes the first episode to have a character almost die twice in the same episode, when Aelita almost falls into the digital sea and is later stabbed by a Krabe, and Odd when he almost falls into the digital sea twice in the same episode. Episode 17 ‘Amnesia’ becomes the first episode of the series to not have a single death. Each episode has an average of 3.2 deaths per episode with episode 11 ‘Plagued’ and Episode 16 ‘Claustrophobia’ tie at 8 deaths each, and episode 17 ‘Amnesia’ and episode 25 ‘Code: Earth’ tie for the least amount at 0 deaths. At the end of season one total count comes to 83 with the personal count ending in the following: Jeremie-8, Aelita-5, Ulrich-13, Yumi-9, Odd-8, Sissi-10, and Jim-10.

Yumi and Ulrich begin season 2 off as the first deaths, nearly dying of heat stroke in the season opener ‘New Order.' Episode 30 ‘A Great Day’ marks the first death at the hands of someone possessed by Xana with Ulrich nearly being bludgeoned to death via a xanafied Sissi. Aelita gets the record for most deaths in a single episode, with episode 37 ‘Common Interest’ where she almost dies three times because of the Supercomputer’s battery almost dying. Season 2 also holds another record for having the most deaths in a single episode at a count of 11 in episode 40 ‘Attack of the Zombies.’ That episode also marks the first death William experiences. Season 2 ends with an average of 1.9 deaths per episode, with episode 40 at 11, and episodes 28, 33, 36, 41, 43, and 48 all tied for least amount at 0. Season 2 has 51 deaths in total with the personal count being the following: Jeremie-4, Aelita-5, Ulrich-6, Yumi-8, Odd-7, William-1, Sissi-2, and Jim-2.

I included the 2 parter prequel ‘Xana Awakens’ as part of season 3 to make formatting easier. The first deaths of the season happen within the opening episode ‘Lyoko Minus One’ with Ulrich and Yumi nearly being electrocuted by their xanafied teachers and classmates, and Aelita and Odd nearly falling into the digital sea. Jeremie has his only near death experience of the season in the prequel ‘Xana Awakens,’ also marking the first canological near death of the series. William almost dies twice in this season, both in episode 59 ‘The Secret’ from drowning and blowing up by a bomb. Unlike the past two seasons, Xana’s focus was mostly on the Lyoko warriors this season, with collateral damage being quite low. This season ends with 27 deaths in total and has an average of 2 deaths per episode. Episode 59 ‘The Secret’ brings us the most deaths at 5, while episodes 53, 57, 60, and 65 each have 0 deaths. At the end of the season the count comes to Jeremie-1, Aelita-4, Ulrich-6, Yumi-5, Odd-5, William-2, Sissi-1, and Jim-1.

Season 4 begins with episode 66 ‘William Returns’ with Yumi nearly falling into the digital sea. Ulrich gets his first death of the series in Episode 69 ‘Wreck Room’ with Sissi from nearly falling off of a roof. Odd comes in, in episode 73 ‘Replika’ falling into the digital sea. Jeremie, Aelita, and Jim come in after a meteor crashes into the earth in episode 75 ‘Hot Shower’. Episode 81 ‘A Lack of Goodwill’ brings the first time the entire team nearly dies in a single episode. The final deaths come in episode 94 ‘Fight to the Finish’, with Yumi and Ulrich nearly killed by a Xanafied William, Franz Hopper sacrificing himself, and Xana from Jeremie’s antivirus program. There are a total of 61 deaths in Season 4, and an average of 2 deaths per episode. Episodes 75 ‘Hot Shower’, and 86 ‘Canine Conundrum’, both tie for most deaths at 9 each. Episodes 70, 71,73,74,78,79,83,85,87,89,92, and 95 all have 0 deaths, leaving all tied for the least deaths in the season. The individual death count for the season comes to the following: Jeremie- 5, Aelita- 8, Ulrich- 7, Yumi- 12, Odd- 6, William- 0, Sissi- 5, and Jim- 3.

By the end of the series, there are a total of 222 deaths in total. The episode with the highest count is episode 40 ‘Attack of the Zombies’ at 11. For the personal count, I will be starting from the lowest to the highest. William is at the bottom with a total of 3, Jim next at 16, then Jeremie and Sissi tie at 18, and Aelita at 23. Odd takes third place at 26. Yumi takes second place with 34 deaths in total. Ulrich claims first place, beating Yumi by 1 with 35 deaths at the end.

In the beginning, I set out to find which character and which episode had the highest ‘death count’. I was thoroughly surprised as the series went on, seeing Ulrich, who I had originally thought to have the lowest count, come out in first place. Discovering the total death count at the end of each season was also fascinating. For example, finding out that season 1 had 83 deaths in total. I was aware the first season was one of the most deadly, but seeing the actual number was surprising. As said, these are not the exact number, it is very possible that I have missed counted, or perhaps there was a judgment I had made that you didn’t agree with. At the end of the day, I did this out of curiosity and for fun, and I can only hope you enjoyed reading my findings as I had collected them.

If you would like to see the full graph here is the link:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1jEUk5lypN37hHpK2pzbA95euYr68clNryzQFvgzbVqQ/edit?usp=sharing

#code lyoko #aelita schaeffer #aelita stones #jeremie belpois #yumi ishiyama #ulrich stern #odd della robbia #william dunbar #big data #data analytics

[pinkiipeachiikeen]

Feline Antics

Kuroo x GN! reader

This was the first thing I've written specifically to post on tumblr, and was originally on my other 'fanfic only' blog, pinkipeachiikeen (one 'i' after pink) but I decided managing two blogs was too time consuming and decided to merge with my original account (pansexualproblemchild) and keep the name. TDLR: it's def not my best work and if it looks familar, no I didn't copy anyone's work but my own

This fic was inspired/dedicated to @taeyamayang and her little black cat momo and my little black aria (mimi)

WC: 717

Summary: Kuroo tries.... and fails to convince y/n that he is a dog person with his cat like antics

“So what did you get?”

“19/20, beat that, loverboy.” I tease, shaking my phone at him.

“Read it and weep, honeybunch.” He dangles his phone in front of my face. “Read it and weep.” 

“What?” No way.  I snatch his phone. “Lemme see.” The four numbers mock me.

20/20. 

“I guess i’m just the better partner.” Kuroo gloats. “I could’ve told you thaAAT-” Kuroo ducks, almost falling off the couch, as i wack him with my stuffed animal, a comically large stuffed goose Kuroo gave me as ‘thinking of you’ gift since geese are small and cute. It Would have been sweet if he didn’t follow that with “needlessly loud and aggressive.”

I wacked him with it then too. Then named it Mr Honk.

“How embarrassing,” he teases. “After you begged me to take this little relationship test too.”

 “I didn’t beg!” I whine, crossing my arms. “I don’t beg!” 

He raises his eyebrow. Don’t do it. He smirks. “You sure did last-”

 “OH MY GOD!” I cut him off before my face can heat up anymore as he cackles. I’m dating a man child. “Whatever.” I scoff as I scroll through all the questions and my eyes finally land upon the damn question that determined Kuroo was the better partner. Question 12. Does your partner prefer dogs or cats? A simple question. A no brainer. Cats, obviously. Except the red ‘x’ too it says otherwise.

“Aha! That’s why!” I exclaim.

“Hmm? You found out why i am the superior parter?” he teases as he settles down next to me, feeling safe now that my weapon of choice (Mr. Honk) was out of my hands. I roll my eyes playfully. “You wish.” I tossed him my phone. “You pressed the wrong answer, dummy.”His eyebrows furrow as he retorts; “No, i didn’t?” 

“Yeah you did! You pressed ‘dogs’ instead of ‘cats’. Therefore, we tied!” I said smugly.

 “Except, I did press the right answer. I’m more of a dog person.” I roll my eyes  he explains

“Bullshit!”

“Wha-” he sputters. “How are you gonna tell me what animal I prefer?” he reasons. “Is this because I was the captain of Nekoma? With my suave graceful movements and agaile abilities?” He pridefully boasts, looking like the cat that got the canary.

 “Yeah the same agileness that broke three different lamps. Two in the same day, as well.” 

Kuroo scoffs, offended by the facts. “I’m tall, Y/n! My lanky limbs have to go somewhere!” He pouts, wiggling said lanky limbs for effect. 

“Yeah, but they couldn’t have been lanky anyplace besides right next to my nightstand? Or my coffee table, or my-“

 “Ok, Ok I get it!” He whines. “All of that only helps plead my case.” I state.

 “You mean the one that I’m a cat.” 

“Yes. Cats break shit left and right too.”

“Okay, left and right is a little excessive!”

“But not wrong. Let’s also talk about the fact how you hiss when I sprayed water on you.”

“Anyone would when you spray water on them!” 

“People don’t hiss Tetsu! You full on hissed like a vampire in the sun!

“….So like Kenma.” 

I pause for a moment. “A little bit, yeah I guess. He’s like a cat too, but that’s a whole different story. He’s like a old calico cat, just minding his business while you are a little scrappy black cat. Causing chaos and mischief.”

 “I’m not scrappy, i’m resourceful and resilient!” He corrects. 

I blink, once, then twice. “You’re scrappy”. I deadpan. “The scrappy little black cat antagonizing and teasing everyone always causing a ruckus and always needs attention and affection. No matter how much they deny it.”

 “I don’t demand nor need your attention!” He huffs. 

“Tetsu?”

“Yes, love?”

“You are literally laying on my right now.”

Kuroo looks down to realize that he is indeed laying across my lap and is silent for a moment, Before he snuggles closer into me.

“The fact that I’m laying on your lap means nothing.” He pulls up the blanket over his lap. “Now shh. I’m sleeping now.”

I smile and roll my eyes once more, something I find i’m doing more and more ever since my cat-like boyfriend (clumsily, and awkwardly)  waltzed his way into my life. “See? Demanding.” 

“Shh!” 

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are always greatly appreciated! ❤️

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #maevesoriginals

[red-dye40]

Fic writer asks: 1, 8, 30

1. the last sentence you wrote

last fic i worked on was sexual trauma clip show and it is: He chomps it like a space alien, all weird and awkward under the gaze of a very pretty girl.

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

funnily enough stixxx was actually originally a sequel to IT’S NOT A FETISH THING !!!!! which was going to be a three parter. but stixxx veered off on its own too much and i didn’t wanna keep it tied to anything i had already written since the vibes are pretty different.

so i guess my answer now is uh ???? none of them currently!

30. share a fic you’re especially proud of

i mean i am extremely proud of all three on my ao3 so instead i’ll share a scrapped bit of dialogue from ancaux:

“What I’m learning is that, once your sanity starts to decay, you can only pick up little scraps and try and salvage those. But it’s never gonna be what it once was. I don’t know how long my brain had been condemned to rot for, but I know once I finally sought help there wasn’t a lot of material to work with. I’m on, like, six medications–at one point, I was on so many pills for different things they started canceling each other out–and still, when I see a car with a COEXIST bumper sticker, it takes everything in me not to spatchcock the driver.”

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

The Art of War — ares & apollo fic perhaps ? our favorite father’s fav son & father’s least fav son duo? or am i just that bad at guessing games 😭.

JACKPOT ANON

TIS THE FAV/LEAST FAV SONS DUO

OH BOY I HAVE THOUGHTS

okay okay. it's gonna be a three-parter, in three different times. part 1 is when Apollo was a young god, The Youngest on the Council actually, and is basically following Ares around because- history lesson time!- sons in greece were raised by their father while the daughters were mainly raised by their mother. Meaning, Apollo spent a heck of a lotta time around Zeus, BUT Zeus is also king of the gods so who does he dump Apollo on when he's too busy (all the time)?

Ares. The eldest son.

Cue the sword-fighting lesson and some cryptic advice from Ares. >:)

Part 2 is Apollo POV of Ares during the time he was captured by the twins giants. He wants to help him out (because that's Apollo for you) but a conversation with Zeus deters him- something along the lines of "Ares needs to learn a lesson about where his bloodlust gets him" and Apollo uncomfortably and reluctantly agrees.

Then Ares is rescued and Apollo's the one who heals him, and really the only one allowed around Ares at that point because Ares is humiliated by the events.

Part 3 is inspired by this fic (i do not know the tumblr :( ) and is the tea invitation mentioned within between Ares, Athena, and Apollo...though Athena conveniently fails to show up ;D

Cue the awkward conversation where Ares is trying to prod Apollo on his feelings of Revolution, cursing Athena for putting him in this situation, while Apollo's willfully blinding himself TO the possibility of Revolution <3

#the art of war #the oracle speaks #fic asks #anon ask #ask and replies #asked and answered #the trials of apollo #apollo #ares

[knickynoo]

Okay, so, I've made a handful of Family Ties posts in the past examining some of my favorite Alex and Elyse scenes, but there's one between Alex and Steven that I've always wanted to write about. It's such a good scene—so well acted and so in line with the relationship that Steven and Alex have with each other.

I haven't done a post breaking down a scene (from either FT or BTTF) in a while, and the itch to take a look at this particular scene struck me today. Will put under a read more on account of I'm sure it'll end up being kind of lengthy.

The Steven and Alex dynamic. Great, right? My favorite father and son duo in all of TV.

They're so different from each other! Opposites in many aspects. Yet, at the same time, they share a ton of similarities. When you really look at who Steven is, the things that make him tic, his quirks, etc., you realize that someone like Alex didn't come out of nowhere. See the post all about that, here.

They have a lot more in common than it appears, but one area where there's a very clear difference is the way they process and express emotions. If you know the show well, you know what I'm talking about. If you don't (because I do have several people who read my FT posts but have never seen an episode, hehehe) it basically boils down to this: Steven is super open about his emotions and expresses them in "big" ways. When he feels something, he can't hold it back, and he feels it all very intensely.

Alex, on the other hand, has a near-constant wall up that prevents his emotions from escaping. He feels deeply as well; it's just that he has no clue what to do with them most of the time and is afraid to really let himself feel them. The Keatons know this. They have an unspoken understanding that every so often, things are going to temporarily grind to a halt because Alex is spiraling and someone needs to help him sort his life out. Normal day.

One of the BEST examples of this is a flashback scene between Alex and Steven from the "Heartstrings" three-parter. A huge chunk of Alex's plot deals with him struggling to process a very serious situation surrounding the family. He's terrified but can't properly express it, so it comes out in a way that makes him seem uncaring and self-centered. The flashback is inserted there to remind us of a few things: 1. Alex does feel things 2. He needs help to get there 3. He loves his father, and Steven knows exactly what to do to help Alex in these moments

To set the scene: the flashback begins with Alex and Steven on the couch, watching TV together. They're having a great time. Steven gets a phone call and leaves the room, and when he returns, his demeanor has totally shifted. Alex asks what's wrong, and Steven tells him what happened. Steven's just found out his father has died. Right away, Alex goes straight to shoving the emotions away and trying to rationalize it all in his head. Talking and looking at it logically is his immediate coping method.

And you can see. You can see that Alex is teetering. His breathing is heavy, and his voice is shaky, but he keeps going—unable to do anything other than try to talk himself out of the emotions that are trying to take root.

"I mean, he worked hard. Did the work of two men—three men. And yet, he was with you, you know? Every step of the way, guiding you until you were ready to go out into the world and start your own family, which you did. But time, as we know, marches on—"

He is babbling. Spewing a hurried, frantic stream of words until Steven interrupts him with a soft, "Alex. Stop." But Alex KEEPS GOING. And Steven is just sitting there, watching his son jump through all these hoops to keep from actually emotionally processing the situation. Keep in mind that Steven himself is reeling from this information, but he immediately sets it aside to focus his attention on Alex instead.

"Not to mention the house," Alex continues, "which, if my sense of the Buffalo real estate market is accurate—and, you know, I have no reason to believe that it's not—"

Yes, Alex pivots right to what he knows: numbers, market information, and facts. Alex himself mentions in a past episode that these things comfort him. It's concrete information that he can rely on without the mess of emotions or complicated relationships with others.

And it's one thing for people to have different ways of coping with tragedy. People deal with things in unique ways, which is fine. The difference here is that Steven knows that unless he intervenes, it's unlikely that Alex will ever reach the point of being able to process this loss on his own. He's going to bury it and pretend it didn't happen (or that it doesn't impact him), and that's not healthy. Steven tries again to reach him.

And it's at this point that Steven takes an interesting approach to handling this. If Alex isn't going to give himself permission to feel his feelings, Steven is going to push him until he has no choice to. Might seem to be an odd method—maybe even a little mean to force your kid to break—but it's important to remember that Steven knows Alex inside and out. He knows Alex will put this neatly into a box in his mind, hide it away, and pretend he isn't hurting. And it'll either turn into a painful memory that he simply never deals with, or it'll eat away at him until he runs the risk of reaching the point of meltdown, a la "A, My Name is Alex."

Alex needs to cry, and Steven needs to get him to the point where he can do it. But Steven's going to bring him there in his usual gentle, loving way.

"Alex, my father died," he says. "Your grandfather."

Alex knows this, of course. But Steven is drilling it in. Trying to shove aside the talk of insurance settlements and the housing market and focus on the reality of it all. We flip back to Alex, who is quite literally trembling with the effort of trying to keep those walls up.

Steven goes on, his own voice breaking with emotion, "You can cry. We love him very much. You can grieve."

This moment! Alex's response says so much, and it's another one of those "THIS SHOW! MJF'S ACTING!" moments. He's still fighting it, but not quite as strongly. He leans back into his father's embrace, moving from where he was previously perched on the edge of the couch, trying to "distance himself" as much as possible from facing Steven. He takes a breath finally.

"Your grandpa died; you can cry," Steven tells him, to which Alex reacts in another poignant way.

There's the briefest flash of eye contact, something Alex has not done since before he was told about his grandfather's passing. Soon after the information was delivered, he moved to the edge of the couch, gaze straight ahead, rocking himself ever so slightly as he went through his rambling. He has not turned to look at his father once during this whole thing until this point, and this little exchange has meaning. Alex is checking in—making sure it's okay. He sees the emotion on Steven's own face and really absorbs that he's safe, and he can cry. And he does.

The flashback ends with their embrace, and we return to present-day Alex as he continues to deal with the new, serious situation that's befallen him and the family. (I won't get into that, but the Heartstrings episodes are phenomenal)

It's a very well-done scene and a relatively short one! But it does so much to encapsulate the relationship that Steven and Alex have. There's really such a good balance to this show, because these two can get so silly at times. Lots of fun, light-hearted and ridiculous scenes between them. However, they're interspersed with more serious moments like this. You get a really nice look at the type of man Steven is—someone with a quiet sort of strength, who consistently puts his family before himself and loves his son fiercely. (Steven even tells Alex in the very first episode that there are no other fathers who love their sons as much as he loves Alex. I mean, COME ON. This guy is a gem.)

When it comes down to it, I just really like that this show gave us a character like Alex, who we see struggle so much in the area of emotional connection, and then gave him someone as kind and attentive as Steven to help guide him and love him through everything.

#family ties #alex p keaton #apk #steven keaton #i had to leave it out for the sake of not doubling the length of this post but like. #this scene can absolutely be viewed through the ''Alex is autistic'' headcanon lens #a lot here can be added to that very large pile #Steven Keaton: best TV dad

[brick-a-doodle-do]

I will def be sending more but a lil tied up atm so here is the first one I thought of.

Why is it that Humans always end up with odd socks?

Could it be that perhaps a small tiny finds humour in watching the Human bend over backwards trying to find the missing sock?

(You can do any characters but I think a tiny Tommy stealing socks to prank people would be hilarious! Or maybe even tiny bench trio stealing everyones socks :3 go wild Brick!!!)

ahhh becky thank you! this is a very cute idea :D i'm tackling all the fluffy ideas first because it's easy to keep those short dsfjfsfjd

(might make this a multi-parter or an au because i think i jumped the gun with how quick tommy was found. lmk!)

i'll be unclean, i'll be obscene

cw: swearing, brief panic

wc: 784

—–—

One, two, three, four, five, ah, so on—he's bored now.

Point is: he's doing good. While his little sock-stealing hobby had begun when he'd simply needed the material, he had lived through the humans' frantic responses to when he took only one, and he found the scene to be rather amusing, which immediately struck up an urge to do it just purely for the hysteria it caused.

Now, five months down the line, he's got a healthy stash of mitch-matched socks that sit in unused hallways until he's ready to give them back. His decision to is always spiritic; one day he may decide to toss it somewhere, another day he'll return it to it's exact place, and occasionally he'll keep it to give into his greedy urges.

Tommy usually only does it because a human pisses him off. He can't say he particularly knows the human he's housing with, and he can't say that he can tell them apart all of the time, and technically, he doesn't really know their names apart from an occasional yell that's too incoherent for him to make out, (Techno? That couldn't be right), but he does know who irritates him: all of them.

Living in a house with a middle-aged man and two young adults drew a tough situation; things were either too messy to be considered his time, (Seriously, how is he meant to make a beeline to the thing he wants if it's blocked off by fucking mountains of clothing and trash? Gross as shit.), or too tidy to be able to be hidden in case of an emergency.

Which is why they get on his nerves, hence why he doesn't find it harmless to steal a few socks every now and then!

As of late, a human had obscured his view of the house with a shopping bag, (Which he used for safety), , but not for food—for clothing. The tall one. Wil? Wilba?

So, off he went, down the ramp leading to his spot in the walls and straight through the dim walls, where he followed the path from muscle memory, (The brown-haired human pissed him off a lot), until he saw an opening.

He steps out, smothered by half-darkness and half-light. The hole in the wall was under Wilbur's bed, hidden behind where Wilbur usually kept his guitar.

It was risky, but the stand was enough to keep it hidden, and plus, it was easy to scale up it and find footing on Wilbur's nightstand, which led to the windowsill, which led to a series of shelves, which led to his dresser.

So, he follows that path, digging his nails into the foamy texture of the guitar stand and making a determined move to the nightstand.

He traces the length of the tabletop, then pulls a hook from his cloak and gathers the rope attached to it, winding it carefully and making sure his shot would be easy.

Tommy moves his arm back, then throws the hook overhand. It catches onto the end of the windowsill and he tugs, before moving closer so he can start climbing. His arms lack good strength,(Although at this point they really shouldn't), and he struggles to get up.

He curses out as he slips, but catches onto the windowsill before falling any further. Tommy pulls himself up and gathers his hook from it's spot in the wood, then continues on. He climbs up to a shelf with practiced ease, then jumps down to the dresser.

Sock drawer, next stop. Fortunately, it was the highest drawer in the thing, next to another one that he had little interest in. Socks were his expertise.

He shifts to kneeling down, where he peers over the edge at the handle, which is positioned down, as it often is. Ah, well, he can pry it open.

Tommy does simply that, putting a hand in the crease of the drawer and using all of his strength to creak it open. It's a slow and agonizing process that leaves his arm screaming from the usage, but it gets him what he needs.

Fucking prick will think next time before leaving clothing in the kitchen.

He climbs in, making a quick glance to the door as he does.

Unfortunately for him, as he makes the gesture, a large and impending shadow is bestowed upon his thievery, and he's left gazing up, and up, and up, and...

Ohfuckingfucktheresahandcomingrightforhim—

He yells out as two fingers pinch at the back of him, holding him up by the hood of his cloak as the brown-haired human stares at him in mild disgust, brief curiosity and seeping amusement.

"Ah, you're a pesky fucking thing, then, aren't you?"

—–—

#brickquiries #becky brickling #beckyu my beloved <33 #brickfic #drabbles #short prompt series #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmpt gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!tommy #g!wilbur

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Current WIPS & Requests

Some of these WIPS will never see the light of day but let me know if they interest you and I might finish them.

FYI - Midnight & Darkness Declares Glory don’t appear on here because I have finished them and therefore don’t class them as WIPS.

WIPS

Invisible Strings - At the wedding of mutual friends, you and Spencer are forced to take a journey down memory lane, traversing the paths down which it all went wrong.

Having to confront over three decades worth of emotions leads you to wonder if maybe you and Spencer’s chance at a happy ending had passed you by. But there’s no denying the two of you are tied together somehow, the invisible strings always drawing you back to one another.

Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end and to piece together yours, you’re going to have to go back to the start if you have any hopes of rewriting the ending. | chaptered

Somewhere to Belong - You and Spencer have only been dating a few months when he drops the bombshell that he wants to start a family and it throws you into turmoil. And that’s only made worse he meets five year old orphan Wren Briar and is determined to do whatever it takes to adopt her. Even if that means destroying your relationship. | two/three parter | family challenge

Unopened Windows - When a charred body is discovered in rural Virginia with evidence tying them to one of the BAU team, Spencer Reid is forced to relive memories he would have rather remained in the past. But not everything is as it seems, as he returns to his hometown to try and piece the mystery together, he finds himself facing the unopened windows of a life he never had. | chaptered

Where Nobody Knows sequel - When you disappeared without a trace three years ago, Spencer never expected to see you again. He certainly didn’t expect to return home from work one day to find you standing in his living room. What’s even more surprising is when he finds you still there in the morning.

But upon discovering you’d turned yourself and with only a matter of minutes before Emily and the team have you surrounded, Spencer makes a rash decision. And suddenly Spencer finds himself throwing his life away to go on the run with you.

But was it all just an elaborate plan? Has he found himself trapped in your web with no escape? | oneshot

REQS

Sleepy morning smut - Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader for Anon

Reader struggling with a decision at work which Luke helps her through - Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader for Anon

Spencer celebrating his first birthday after Gideon’s death - Spencer Reid x Fem! GF! Reader for @lover-of-books-and-tea

Spencer gets roomed with reader and they spend the night making prank calls to Morgan - Spencer Reid x Reader for Anon

Milestone Request - Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye - Spencer Reid x Reader for Anon

Milestone Request - Sunshine by All American Rejects - Spencer Reid x Reader for @c-m-stuff

Milestone Request - Lying is the Most Fun… by Panic at the Disco - Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader for Anon

Reader with a stalker who is jealous of her and Spencer - Spencer Reid x GN! Reader for Anon

Song Fic based on Saving All My Live For You by Whitney Houston - Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader for Anon

Based on the scene where Emily profiles Alvez while he’s behind her - Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader for Anon

Song Fic based on Daylight by David Kusher - Spencer Reid x Fem! BAU Reader for Anon

Song Fic based on Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine - Spencer Reid x BAU Reader for Anon

#scarlets wips #requests #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #criminal minds

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Listen, the Utopia/Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords three parter is tied for my favorite Doctor Who finale. But can y'all imagine the power of if instead of the psychic power being used to restore the Doctor, everyone in the world thought of Martha at the end instead? Like, not because she asked them to but because her actions had made her the figure worth believing in at the end of the world? It might not work as well plot-wise but the vibes would be UNMATCHED. I don't care what she does. Does she confront the Master over the rockets/black hole convertors? Does she destroy the paradox machine? I don't care I just NEED Martha as a temporary god because she deserves to be believed in. Hell, it would even allow the same ending of her realizing that she needed to respect herself and get off of the TARDIS.

Someone write this fic or I might just be forced to-

(Edit: wrote the fic!)

#martha jones #doctor who #sound of drums #utopia #simm!master #the master #last of the time lords #fanfic #tenth doctor #jack harkness

[non-man049]

While I don't hate it I think that Sleep No More would be way better received if it didn't feel so utterly out of place in series 9.

Series 9 has a very specific but clear structure. Every story is a multi-parter, having common themes and motifs of both grief and the complexities of saving others which connects to The Doctor's relationship with Clara, building up to the three parter season finale.

The Magician's Apprentice has The Doctor dreading his own death.

The Witch's Familiar has Davros dissect The Doctor's own philosophy towards empathy.

Under The Lake/Before The Flood touches upon The Doctor's duty of care, his insane need of saving Clara and how Clara herself motivates that mentality.

The Girl Who Died puts The Doctor in a situation where maybe he has to let others die for "the greater good" + has the whole ending with Ashildr.

The Woman Who Lived is very self-explanatory with it's themes of grief and immortality and how it ties to The Doctor and Clara.

The Zygorn Invasion/Inversion has The Doctor trying to save everyone in a conflict where doing so is wishful thinking. It also has many moments tying to The Doctor's fears surrounding grief, ending with that unsettling "I'll be the judge of time" quote.

Even if you aren't directly trying to analyse the themes and characters, all of these things will probably stick on your mind. Series 9 is a lot of things but subtle isn't one of them, with so many monologues about saving others and scenes of The Doctor dreading the possibility of Clara dying, you're probably going to register this on a subconscious level at the very least.

So seeing the tension rise and rise with every episode as The Doctor's fear of losing Clara and desire on saving others grows and grows only to suddenly being hit with Sleep No More just fucks with the pacing and the build up (it doesn't ruin it or anything, but it does make it worse). Making it stick out like a sore thumb.

Sleep No More is a standalone episode, it ends in a way that it would make you think it has a second part but it just doesn't, and it ditches any recurring theme the series had to make a commentary on capitalism and work exploitation.

It feels outright disconnected from the rest of series 9, you could put this in early series 8 and outside from Capaldi's bigger hair and different fit I don't think most people will feel a difference.

While I'm very sure all the crew put a ton of work into this episode, it almost feels like they did this one out of obligation. Like they had the entire storyline planned but there was one more episode slot they needed to fill and didn't know how to.

It almost makes me wonder if maybe it's reputation would have been somewhat better if it was a story made for a different series with a lesser presence of an overarching thematic storyline. Maybe it would have worked better as a series 2, or series 11, or even an early series 5 episode.

#doctor who #ramblings #doctor who meta #twelfth doctor