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zeninsama-moved · 1 year

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pay up!

gojo satoru x female reader

satoru's poor time management has you working overtime, and this cheap bastard has something other than cash to pay you with (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

note from author mercury: this is my entry for our slimeball collab over on @bastardblvd , figured the host of the slimiest event on this corner of the internet should probably contribute a lil somethin. let's pretend like i'm not shitting bricks bc this is my first time writing for gojo <3 ending is a little abrupt but i needed to get this out asap or i'd be scrutinizing it for the next five months

content warnings: female reader, unprotected sex, oral and fingering (reader receiving), overuse of the word 'cute', praise and obnoxious petnames (reader receiving), needing to keep quiet, fucking on the couch while the kids are asleep down the hall so if that's a concern for you please don't touch, panty fetish if you squint, cumshot?, implied you've fucked before, unfair compensation for your labor lmao, multiple references to the slimeball au so that may be super jarring if you aren't familiar.

↳ word count: 3.9k

It's almost eleven, which means Satoru is... very late.

Shit happens, you get it. Maybe work ran later than expected, or the train hit a freeloader on the way back to Grimetown, but still. You can’t help but feel bothered by the lack of text message from your pseudo-employer.

You would never complain about Megumi and Tsumiki. They're absolute angels, and caring for them has never felt like work. Besides, your only other options were a waitressing job at Franky’s or the graveyard shift at the gas station, which you heard is filled with... interesting characters at that time of night. Caring for the coolest elementary schoolers alive seemed like a no-brainer. The arrangement worked out in your favor as well. Satoru ended up moving you into his apartment complex due to his demanding schedule, wanting you to always be close – like two apartments down the hall close.

Contrary to the name, the Luxury Condos on Bastard Boulevard weren’t much of an upgrade from your last apartment. The landlord must be loaded because it’s a miracle this place passed inspection, but you’ll gladly accept updated appliances and neighbors without a small army of pet rats. Even the offensively high rent doesn’t bother you because your pseudo-employer paid it all in cash.

(You tried asking Satoru exactly where he got all this money from, to which he said, “It ain’t easy being the sexiest designer sunglasses model on this side of town. You gotta work hard to play hard!”)

Anyways, whatever is holding him, you hope it’s a good excuse.

In the meantime, you’ve taken up camp on his sofa, wrapped in a throw blanket that smells vaguely of Satoru's disgustingly expensive cologne. You were too lazy to change the channel from whatever cartoon Megumi was watching before bedtime, laughing through your nose every now and then. It’s not that bad, but still… You’d really, really like to go back to your apartment and hit the hay.

Maybe a little snooze won’t hurt, but of course, right as you close your eyes...

The smart lock clicks behind you. It’s a quarter past eleven when Satoru enters the apartment, looking gorgeous and unbothered, sunglasses low on his nose and DAISO cat-print tote bag slung over his arm.

"Daddy's home!"

"Shh!" you're glaring from the couch, lips drawn in a frown. "Megumi and Tsumiki are sleeping! Where the hell were you? You couldn't give me a heads up?"

"Sorry, babycakes. They loved what I was giving 'em, so the shoot ran overtime." Satoru grins at you, pulling the sunglasses off his face and ditching them in the catch-all along with his keys. His shoes are toed off and left by the front door. "Why, you miss me that bad?"

You're tempted to throw one of the many decorative pillows right at his big, dumb head. Instead you sink back into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame, grouchy. "Whatever," you sigh. "You're four hours late, so you better pay up."

Satoru sucks in air through his teeth. "Yeah, about that..."

You don't like where this conversation is heading.

"Some big guy outside the train station jacked my wallet on the way home. You'll never believe it, he had this fuckin'... worm? On his shoulder? Shit, it was crazy. So I don't have the cash to pay you, but–"

You glance over your shoulder at the man now rummaging through his bag behind you, eyes and tone full of warning. "Satoru..."

An opened package is waved in your face by a beaming idiot.

"– Ichigo daifuku! Your favorite!"

He's so full of shit. There’s one piece of mochi left, does he really think his already-eaten train snack will fix this? Probably, and as much as you'd hate to admit it, you do like strawberry daifuku mochi. Dammit.

Despite your annoyance, you don't get up from your spot on the couch. You're tempted to storm out, blow past Satoru and grab your things, maybe give him a good shove while you do it. However, you're tired, and no grand display of your frustrations would change the fact that you'd be returning tomorrow to pick up his kids from school. Also, your apartment is literally two doors down, so you wouldn't truly be escaping Satoru – you'll still feel his annoying energy seeping through the absurdly large gap under your door while you sit there, in the apartment that he bought you, stewing in your annoyance and eating your feelings in a single daifuku mochi.

God, you might hate this man. You don't even wanna look at him, but despite feeling this way, you let Satoru move closer, ditching the bag of sweets in favor of pinching your puffed-out cheek in his fingers.

“Aw, come on,” he pouts, redirecting your face towards his in an attempt to get you to look at him, but you don’t give him the satisfaction. You force yourself to look anywhere else but the man above you and stubbornly pretend you can’t feel the cool puffs of his mint-gum breath, or notice his devious grin from the corner of your eye. “Don’t be mad at me, babycakes. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

“You can go to the ATM and get me some cash."

“Yeah, besides that.”

On the subject of things you hate about Satoru, you hate how quickly he switches up on you. One minute, he's the most annoying man you've ever had the misfortune of knowing. The next, he's smooth and serious. The kind of man that confidently leans in and ghosts his lips over your neck, intentionally fanning his breath over your skin because you made the mistake of telling him you're ticklish there.

"There must be some way for me to make this up to you," Satoru murmurs into your neck, the low vibrations of his voice making you shiver. It's then that you finally cave, eyes slowly meeting his, brilliant blues hidden behind heavy lids.

Unfortunately, he's very handsome.

"Okay," you huff. "Fine."

He kisses your cheek, then your nose, and then he kisses you.

You hate to admit it, but Satoru knows how to kiss. His lips are warm and soft, meshing with yours with confidence, tongue easing into your mouth in a practiced motion.

He momentarily breaks the kiss to join you on the couch, kneeling on the cushion beside you and leaning back in, cradling your cheek in his hand, murmuring against your lips before kissing them again.

"Let me show you just how much I appreciate you."

Satoru reaches down and rests his hand between your thighs, cupping your pussy through the rough fabric of your shorts. You bite your lip at the sensation, stifling a needy whimper, but he knows. Your grouchy demeanor melted so easily for him.

How cute, his little tsundere.

He squeezes you softly, then rubs four fingers up and down, keeping his pace slow.

"You know I can't do it without you, right?"

Your hips lift off the couch, chasing his hand as it continues its unbothered pace. Satoru rewards you by focusing the stimulation on your clit, switching to tighter, firmer circles over the sensitive bud.

"You're just saying that," you mutter.

"Nuh uh," Satoru teases. "I've never seen anyone be so good with my kids. They love you, you know. Maybe more than they love me."

That's not too difficult, you want to quip, but opt to bite your tongue instead. Satoru's touch feels way too good, you don't want him to stop or risk having your orgasm put off just over a snark. Instead, you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, fidgeting with the shorter tufts of hair there.

Satoru kisses you again. His hand stops playing with your clit just to skim higher, unfasten the button and zipper on your shorts so he can touch you where you both want it most.

"And you know," he murmurs between kisses, fingers sneaking under the loosened waist of your shorts, then your panties, until you feel his fingers make contact with your bare clit. He watches your reactions closely, smiling when you gasp and buck up into his touch. "I like you too. How can I not? You're too damn cute."

His slender middle finger skims your folds, feeling the wetness there, letting it gather and get him all slick, making it easier when it finally pushes inside you. Just one finger already feels like so much, almost too much. He feels your walls bear down, his cock twitching lazily in his pants. How long has it been since he’s had you last?

You let him have you once before, back when he spent the whole day helping you move into your new apartment, carrying all those heavy boxes for you like the gentleman he is – and you, being the sweet peach you are, insisted on making him dinner as a thank you.

You reminded Satoru of a cute little housewife, puttering around the kitchen in your apron, though nothing was cuter than the sight of you sinking onto his dick that night, your hands and pussy clinging to him like you couldn’t get enough.

Every time he jerks off, he thinks of that adorable, pinched look on your face when the fat head of his dick first speared you open.

It's kind of embarrassing, the hold you have on him.

When you're taking his finger with ease, Satoru presses a second into your cunt, further stretching it out. "Come on, baby, open up for me," he coaxes, voice low and sultry. "Fuck, you don't know how bad I missed this pussy. Gonna let me fuck it again? Hm?"

"Uh huh," you're nodding, dazed, and the sight of you makes Satoru grin. The heel of his palm presses into your clit, providing the right amount of pressure when combined with his fingers.

"Yeah? Gonna let me have this cute pussy to myself?"

Cruelly, the motion stops.

The lack of stimulation makes you pout.

Satoru's fingers glide out of you with an embarrassingly loud squelch, intentionally brushing along your clit as they withdraw from your shorts and panties. His hand emerges, fingers glistening with clear threads of arousal webbed between them, and before you can think, he slips them past your lips and presses firmly on your tongue, prompting you to suck.

"Tastes good?" Satoru coos, delighted at your eagerness. "Let me taste now, okay, cutie?"

Shyly, you nod. His fingers withdraw from your mouth, leaving a dribble of spit on your bottom lip.

Satoru repositions himself to kneel on the floor in front of you, tugging you by the hips so your bottom half comes right to the edge of the couch, dangerously close to his face. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cunt, the sensation muted by your shorts, but it still makes you gasp. His fingers hook into your shorts and you lift your hips to help him pull them off, but he makes no effort to remove your panties with them. Instead, he fixates on the little wet patch right in the center, caressing it with his finger. Admiring it.

Fuck, you’re so cute. He can’t wait to get his mouth on you.

"Need to keep quiet, okay?" Satoru instructs, peering up at you through his lashes, watching you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. The last thing you need is to disturb the two rugrats asleep down the hall, even if you could pry yourself off Satoru and pull your shorts back on in record time. You don't want this moment to stop, not when the promise of his mouth on your cunt is so deliciously close.

You look so sweet like this, he thinks. Chest heaving, eyes wide and eager, one hand fisting the hem of your shirt, holding it over your stomach for a better view. Satoru smiles up at you, maintaining eye contact as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“What a beautiful girl.”

Satoru buries his face in the soft warmth between your legs. His nose presses into your clit, taking in your scent as his tongue ventures lower, finally getting a taste of your pussy and he shamelessly moans. It’s faint through the fabric. He knows he could taste you better without them, but something about eating pussy through a cute pair of panties never fails to get him so fucking hard. He likes watching them get wetter and wetter, until they're completely soaked from arousal and saliva and clinging to the shape of the pretty pussy underneath.

Your other hand flies down immediately, resting on the back of Satoru’s head to urge him closer, and of course he’ll indulge you. He’ll eat you just the same, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up to your clit, then sucking it into his mouth.

The muted sensation makes you whine. It’s not enough, yet so good. Enough to make your little pussy flutter under your panties. You push his head harder against your cunt, desperate to keep the kissing suction over your clit. You’re certain you could cum like this, between the pressure of Satoru’s tongue and the vibrations when he moans against you.

A string of saliva connects Satoru’s swollen lips to your panties when he pulls back for air, but this time he pulls the soaked fabric aside, finally getting an eyeful of your pussy.

“Well hi, gorgeous,” he lovingly coos, pressing a light kiss over your clit. “Did you miss me?”

Is he… really talking to your pussy?

Scratch that, you hate him again.

“What are you doing?” You ask, breathless.

“What do you mean? We’re having a moment,” Satoru replies, voice still sweet and airy, the same way one would talk to a cute little pet.

If you didn’t need him so badly, you’d kick him right in his dumb face.

Fortunately, Satoru cuts his little bit short and dives back in, tongue sweeping through your folds, finally getting his first real taste of your pussy. You taste even better than he could imagine.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, body melting into the couch. Your fingers tangle in soft white hair, urging his head deeper, wanting to feel more of his mouth and Satoru obliges. His tongue dips into your cunt, fucking you with it, then drags up to your clit to lick in slow circles.

He really, really wants to be inside you right now. His dick is throbbing so hard, he’s amazed he hasn’t passed out yet, but Satoru’s always been a man with a sweet tooth. He doesn’t mind setting his needs aside a while longer if it means eating out some pretty pussy.

Maybe not too much longer though.

His fingers join between your legs, still slick from your saliva and arousal, and slip easily into your cunt. Making you cum is easy for him, his fingers thrust deep with each lazy roll of his wrist, stimulating that spot inside you with ease. Though, he can tell you're craving more of a stretch, so Satoru, being the chivalrous, generous, oh-so-kind man that he is, gives you a third finger.

Your jaw drops at the intrusion, pussy now spread wide to accommodate the stretch of three fingers as they curl and stroke your sensitive walls, drawing out more wetness and arousal until it drips down his wrist in clear drops.

Satoru knows you're close when you let out a particularly desperate moan, your hips stuttering and walls fluttering so perfectly on his fingers, clit pulsing against his tongue.

"Satoru, I'm–" you warn, trying to keep your voice low.

"I know, baby," he coos in encouragement. "Feels so good, doesn't it? Go ahead, pretty baby. Cum on my tongue if you need to."

You don't need any further coaxing. When you cum, you cum hard, hand smacking over your mouth to muffle your cries as Satoru keeps fucking you through your orgasm, fingers thrusting and tongue lapping up every drop of arousal your sensitive pussy drools out, just for him.

He rests his head on your inner thigh, watching fondly as you come down from your high. His fingers still thrust into you but his pace has slowed significantly, working you through it until your walls stop contracting. Your arousal coats his entire hand when it withdraws from your cunt, even pooling on the couch beneath you. It'll be a bitch to clean, but Satoru can't bring himself to care about that now. His dick might explode if it's not buried in your cunt in the next thirty seconds.

Even as you lay there, chest heaving, you still crave more. Your hands are greedy, grabbing at Satoru while he makes his way up and eases you back against the couch.

“Easy there, tiger,” he chuckles, hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and peeling them down your legs. "Let's take these off you first."

Your panties are discarded somewhere – probably his pocket, that pervert – before Satoru goes in for another kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One hand rests beside your head, supporting his weight. The other reaches down and palms his dick through his pants. "You need my dick that badly? Hm? Turn around."

You oblige, rolling over to lay on your stomach and pretending the sound of his belt unfastening doesn't make you warm with anticipation. Satoru shifts to straddle your thighs, placing one of the cushions to rest under your hips, keeping you nice and comfortable while also elevating your ass to be closer to his dick. A win-win.

"Shit," he sighs, pulling his dick from his briefs and jerking it slowly, slicking himself up with your wetness. Precum beads at the tip and he rubs it against your folds, mixing your messes. "It's been a while, huh?"

"Satoru," you whine, pushing back against him, wiggling your hips slightly in a silent request for him to quit teasing you and get on with it.

Maybe that makes you greedy. After all, he was just nice enough to let you cum on his fingers and tongue, but you don't care. It doesn't hurt to be selfish every once in a while, especially with Satoru of all people.

When Satoru finally presses the thick head of his dick into you, it feels like you’re being split in two. He's immediately met with resistance, your cunt bearing down, struggling to accommodate it even with all the prep he gave you. So he starts slow and shallow, dragging his heavy dick in and out, bullying your cunt into relaxing and letting more of him fit. He pulls out and taps the head against your entrance again. "Come on, sweetie, open up for me~"

He eases into your cunt again, but this time Satoru leans in, his opposite hand settling on the other side of your head, smothering you with his weight in the best way possible. His body blankets yours, pinning your back under his chest and ass against his hips. His dick pushes into you with more persistence, inch after inch sinking deeper until he's buried to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open in a silent scream. You're probably drooling all over his couch, but it's hard to feel shame when he's filling you out so nicely. He's so deep, it's like he's forcing the air out of your lungs and replacing it with his dick.

His lips ghost over your shoulder, kissing it sweetly, then he starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts, only withdrawing an inch before he's chasing that warmth again. He fucks you as hard as he can without being too noisy, limiting the smack of his hips against your ass, even though he really wants to see it bounce from the force of his thrusts. If he could, he’d be making you scream right now, watch some pretty tears stream down your face because of what his dick does to you. Yeah, that would be cute.

Satoru ruts ruthlessly into the tight heat of your cunt, chasing the orgasm he’s needed so fucking desperately. Balls slap against your clit, heavy with all his pent-up release. He takes advantage of your open mouth and forces two fingers inside, pressing down firmly on your tongue and delighting in the way you slobber around them, in the way your cheeks subconsciously hollow and suck them deeper, still tasting your pussy on them.

Sucking on his fingers keeps you quiet, gives you something else to focus on if not the relentless pounding against your cervix, or how close you’re getting to snapping and cumming all over his dick.

“Shit, you’re so perfect,” Satoru huffs against your neck. "I can feel you squeezing me, baby, I know this little pussy wants to cum."

It’s hard to moan his name when his stupidly long fingers are prodding the back of your throat. You’re babbling, crying out for Thatowu to keep fucking you, it feels so good, and he’s grinning like an idiot above you. Yeah, baby? It feels good?

Satoru’s fingers withdraw from your mouth only to snake underneath your body and stake claim on your clit, massaging in slow circles, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You can’t take it anymore. Your body goes limp, cheek smashed into the cushion, gaping mouth smearing drool all over the fabric while your cunt creams around his dick.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” Satoru moans, feeling your cunt squeeze around his dick like it's trying to swallow him whole. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fill this pussy up?”

You’re too fucked out to answer, but that’s okay, because Satoru wasn’t really asking. More like letting you know he’s seconds away from driving his dick as deep as possible and unloading right against your cervix. God, he’d really like that, but he can't risk having any more rugrats right now. Not when his career as the only sexiest designer sunglasses model in Grimetown is taking off.

Instead, he pulls out of your cunt and manhandles you onto your back, quickly stroking his dick, filling the living room with the lewd sounds of your wetness squelching around him. You're laying there, dazed, legs spread wide and pussy exposed, all swollen and leaky and clenching around the air. The sight of your debauched face sends Satoru over the edge. He releases with a groan, cum splattering on your lower stomach, inner thighs, all over your pussy, before pressing the head right against your clit and letting the rest of his load drip.

You both need a minute after that. Maybe several minutes.

Blood still rushes in your ears when you come to. You push yourself up on shaking arms, Winnie the Pooh-ing it with your tee shirt and lack of panties. You're a mess, all sweaty with his cum painting your lower half, even parts of the couch underneath you. Maybe he'll offer up his shirt as a cumrag so you don't have to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

You watch Satoru, who is already back to his normal, irritating self, snatch his bag off the side table, already craving a little something sweet. He chomps into the last strawberry daifuku mochi in the packet and you frown.

“Hey, I thought that was for me."

“We can still share,” Satoru teases, waving the mochi-half in your face with a grin.

Huffing, your eyes drop back down to the open bag on his lap and… wait a minute. Has that been here this whole time?

“Satoru, is that your wallet?”

He looks down, a little rice flour on his chin.

“Oh, shit! Where did that come from?”

#mercury writes

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

Text

I Never Stopped Loving You

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC “Catie”

Word Count: 7700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: @theewokingdead is such an enabler and I love her for it! This is 100% her idea (I’ll post it at the end). I’m just doing the words!

And yes, this is my first OFC character!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Joel Miller Masterlist

I Never Stopped Loving You Part 2>>

September 26th, 2013

2 pink lines.

2 little pink lines that will change the entire course of my life from here on out. Not just my life, but his life too.

Joel.

It’s not like we just started dating. It’s been a couple of years, but we hadn’t really brought up the idea of adding another child alongside his Sarah. And yet, here I am, staring down in disbelief at these 2 little pink lines, memories of the night that caused this from a couple weeks ago flashing before my eyes briefly before my brain starts to spiral.

Would he be happy? Mad? Leave me? Feel obligated to marry me? How will Sarah feel?

Before I can spiral more, my phone springs to life, it’s ring loud in my tiny bathroom as it vibrates across the counter. I knew from the ring it was him, but what I didn’t expect was Joel to sound so tired and frustrated.

“Hey baby.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Is that contractor being a dick again?”

He chuckles, low and deep. “How’d you guess?”

“He’s been giving you shit for weeks. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Because I need the money. But I’m starting to think it may not be worth it to keep my mouth shut.”

He launches into a story about his day from hell, how the contractor is making everything take 10 times as long as it should. When he finishes, he takes a deep sigh before speaking again.

“You able to check on Sarah?”

“Yeah. She’s doing fine. Ordered a pizza. Sorry I couldn’t hang with her.”

“It’s alright. You feelin’ any better, sweetheart?”

I could tell him now, tell him that my secret suspicion of my nausea over the last several days has been confirmed, but I don’t want to tell him like this. Not over the phone, not when he’s exhausted and frustrated. I’ll tell him when I see him next.

“A little.”

A beep sounds and Joel pauses. “That’s Tommy. I’ll call him back later.”

“No, no. It’s ok, answer it. Just go home and get some sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely, sweetheart. Feel better.”

I feel guilty for not telling him right away, but the timing just isn’t right. Besides, this gives me some time to wrap my own head around it and figure out exactly how to tell him.

—----

Waiting was not a great idea.

I had fallen asleep at some point, but I was woken up by…is that screaming? Something is happening outside and it doesn’t sound good.

Creeping up to the window, I pull the curtains back just enough to peek outside. People are moving about the street, but something isn’t right. They’re all running from Mr. Stevens, my neighbor from several houses down. He’s running after them, but it’s not normal. No…not human. He leaps forward, jumping onto the nearest person and…shit!

I run back to my nightstand and grab my phone. The first few times I try to get a call out, it’s a busy signal. Whether the lines are cut or busy is beyond me, but I have to keep trying. My fingers tremble as I use speed dial to try to get Joel. The phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor.

“Shit!”

I bend down and pick it up, hitting the green call button and miraculously, the call goes through. My breathing speeds up, I feel like my heart is about to pound out of my chest. I’ve never needed a call to go through more than now-

“Catie?”

“Joel?”

“Thank God. Listen, somethin’ is happening. Something with the people-”

“I know. I saw the neighbor-”

“Stay away from them-.....not right-....Sarah and I-.....”

“Joel?” The line keeps breaking up, static cutting out more than half of whatever he was trying to tell me.

“....just stay put….no lights….there soon…”

“I- ok. I’ll stay here.”

“Love you, sweethea-”

The phone cuts off and the connection dies with it. I pull the phone away from my ear and look down at the screen. My phone still has battery but over the service bars is an X. Guess they either cut the service or something happened at a tower. Either way, it’s not good.

I stay there a moment longer until more screams and glass breaking from across the street somewhere bring me harshly back to reality. I click my lamp off and head into my closet, finding the new hiking backpack I’d bought a couple weeks ago with Joel, who planned to take Sarah and I hiking soon. Be smart, Catie. It’s just like camping. What do I need realistically?

I’m no stranger to traveling, so I roll all my clothes, putting on a 3rd pair of jeans and a shirt, making sure to pack and wear thicker socks that will last longer. I also toss in a bar of soap, my waterproof matches and firestarter, some salves I had just finished making last week, and some other random items. The pack isn’t too heavy, which I’m grateful for. I grab one of Joel’s flannels and throw it on over my clothes before hoisting the backpack over one shoulder.

Quietly, I creep downstairs, ears straining to hear anything out of place. I hear nothing - well, nothing aside from the ominous noises from outside. I’m so glad that I have curtains all around my house, never wanting people to see in, especially at night. I fill my canteen with water and grab a bunch of high protein, portable snacks, tossing them in my bag and strapping the water to the side. I make up another canteen to add to the other side to balance the weight. Plus, having extra water wasn’t a bad thing. Right?

I kept my phone on me in case Joel managed to get through again. I pull it out to see if anything had changed, but nothing. It’s been at least 20 minutes since I spoke to him, but even if he had left his home right at that moment, it would still be another 5 or so minutes before he’d get here. And I’m sure he’s running into obstacles outside.

When it hits the hour mark, I become officially worried.

I know he told me to stay put, but the screams outside are lessening, which can only mean one thing. I’m not waiting around for it to be my turn.

Grabbing a pen, I scribble a quick note telling Joel to meet me at the cabin, my parent’s cabin that they had given me to use with Joel and Sarah. It’s out in the middle of nowhere but it’s self sustainable and the perfect place to hideout from…whatever is happening.

I leave the note in a conspicuous place, hoping that he’ll be able to see it. I check the knives I stored in my boot and one in a leg strap on my thigh. Initially a gag gift from my brother when I started hiking more, I learned how to use them a little, just in case. Otherwise, I have my bow-my bow!

Quickly, I head into my office closet and grab my bow and quiver of arrows, making sure I have the proper attachments for attaching them to my backpack. I pick up my keys, fingers trembling and I nearly drop them.

Then my sliding door crashes open, glass shattering everywhere, inhuman noises coming from whatever fell through it.

I don’t even bother to look, throwing open the front door and slamming it behind me, eyes scanning the yard for any threats. Thank God I have a keyless entry, the car unlocking for me and I throw my bag and bow in as I slide in the seat of my suv, slamming the door shut behind me. I fumble with the keys, trying to jam them in the ignition when I hear my front door slam against the ground. I manage to jam the key in and the engine turns over. I backup quickly out of my driveway and peel off down the street as Mr. Stevens comes out of my house, moving towards my car but quickly giving up as I drive away.

I make it about 10 blocks when I see her. My neighborhood friend Lucia, running for her life from…something who used to be a someone. No hesitation, I turn my suv, slamming into the something and sending it flying. Lucia turns and sees me, eyes wide with fear as she runs towards me as I beckon her to get in. She throws open the passenger door and screams at me to go before she even closes it behind her. I do, speeding off down the road and somehow managing to get out of the nieghborhood without road blocks or hitting anything else.

For now, I’m ignoring what I see and focusing on getting us out.

Lucia says nothing, eyes scanning the road and looking behind us to make sure everything is clear. By the grace of a higher power, we manage to make it to the back highway that will eventually bring us to my parent’s cabin. Or my cabin now, I guess.

“Luce, are you ok?”

Lucia is breathing heavy but she nods, turning her head towards me as she starts to relax slightly. “Thank you for stopping. I..I wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

“I’m just glad I could help.”

A few moments of silence pass between us before I speak again.

“Are you hurt or..or bit? I don’t..I don’t know what-”

“No. I don’t know how but no.”

“What are they?”

Lucia takes a shaking breath and I can hear her trying to hold back tears. “I..I don’t know. They aren’t…they were people but now?”

“Yeah that’s pretty much all I saw too…oh is there anywhere I need to go or drive by for you?”

She looks away from me quickly. “I uh…no.”

“Where’s your brother?”

She was quiet for a moment. “He left on his business trip a day ago.”

Right. Japan or something.

I reach over and squeeze her hand, feeling us both shaking. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

More silence.

“What about Joel? And Sarah?”

“I uh…I was waiting for them but… I left a note telling them where to meet me.”

“Oh. I’m sure they’re fine.”

We drive for a little bit longer, Lucia messing with the radio to try and find anything that was playing. It was all just static. I take the exit I need and clear my throat.

“I’m pregnant.”

Lucia’s head snaps towards me. “You’re what?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Great timing, huh?”

“Does Joel know?”

A sob jumps out of my throat, one I didn’t know I had. “No. I..he had a hard day at work and I figured I’d tell him tomorrow…”

“Oh, Cat. It’s ok. He…he’ll find you for sure. I know it. Buuut…until then, you have me! Wait, did you pick me up just because I’m a midwife?” I can hear the smile in her words, but she’s still not 100% certain.

“I picked you up because you needed help. And you didn’t look injured.” She laughs at my admission.

“I love your honesty, Cat.”

We chat about the pregnancy the entire way, only quieting when we reach the long, hidden drive to my cabin. We do a quick perimeter check, inside and out. Nothing and no one. The closest neighbors we have are literally miles away. We have more chances of seeing a bear than another person.

Lucia helps me unload the few things I have in the car and heads inside. We take a quick stock of all pantry items and I’m thankful that Sarah and I did so much canning the last time we were here. She had gotten slightly obsessed with the idea and was looking forward to eating it when they were ready. Water wouldn’t be an issue either as we have our own private well, no need for electricity. Which is good because that doesn’t work without the generator and we are not turning that on. It’s too noisy and would attract trouble.

Lucia and I have a low key dinner of beef sticks and some dried vegetables, chatting with each other to try and lighten the dark cloud that has crept over the world. She heads off to one of the bedrooms and I head off to mine, the one I share with Joel. Once I’m finally able to collapse in the bed, I allow myself a moment to cry, worrying about Joel and Sarah and the baby that’s currently growing inside of me. I still have hope they’ll make their way here. I have to or I’ll crumble into bits and float away on the wind.

—----

20 years later…

Lucia and I stayed in the cabin for nearly 10 years. She helped me safely bring my daughter Penelope, or “Poppy”, earthside. We raised her in the cabin, teaching her everything she needed to know about survival and life, despite her young age. This is how life is now. She’s still allowed to have kid time of course, which is why there are murals painted on nearly every corner of the cabin.

About 10 years in, Lucia, who had never given up on finding someone or a transmission on either the radio or the ham radio, finally found one talking about a settlement in Jackson, Wyoming. It would take us nearly a month to get there, let alone the danger we’d be in. The suv would never make it, having given out years ago, but luckily we had managed to make a small farm for us and that included a few horses and a couple that could pull a wagon or 2. After gathering up all the information we could on Jackson, we determined it must be a real place and put it to a vote with all of us. After the winter snows melted, we left for Jackson, packing up our entire lives, or what we could anyway, and plotting out the safest route possible. It would take us about a month, especially with the detours we were taking, but they were necessary to avoid the areas that would most likely have bandits. Or worse.

The last thing I did before I closed the door was to write a letter to Joel and Sarah, telling them where we were going. Even 10 years later, I had not given up on them.

—----

A month later, we arrived in Jackson, a few more scrapes and bruises to our name, but luckily, we hadn’t run into too much trouble.

Lucia got work right away, considering her background as an official midwife. I was hired to help with the gardening because of my immensely green thumb and knowledge of herbs, and Poppy was allowed to help with the livestock we brought, after school was done for the day. Poppy was beside herself with the idea of going to actual school, even though she knew most of what they were teaching anyway.

We all settled nicely, Lucia falling in love with a nice man on the other side of town, eventually moving in with him and starting a family of their own. Poppy made a ton of friends, finally allowed the freedom to be a kid for more than a couple of hours.

As for me?

I never really dated anyone, my heart given to Joel a long time ago. I know the likelihood of seeing him again is extremely slim, but I still have a tiny sliver of hope that he’s around. And maybe he’s heard about Jackson and will head this way. Which didn’t impact my decision to come here. Nope. Not at all.

But the biggest surprise that Jackson held for us was Tommy, Joel’s brother. He was married to Maria, the woman who started this community with her father, and lived on the farm where they kept the horses. Poppy and he got along right away, her begging for more stories about her dad and he would pretend to be annoyed but would give in every single time. She continued this ritual as she grew, eventually bringing her boyfriends with her, searching for Tommy’s approval, just like a father.

One beautiful fall day, I’m walking through the market, trading for new produce and supplies when I hear some people gossiping over lemonade at the small eatery in town. I tend to ignore gossip, never having been one for it, until the phrase “Tommy Miller’s brother” reaches my ear. I freeze, listening intently on their words, but I’m only able to make out that he was here in town.

Joel was here. In Jackson. Joel.

I turn, marching towards the small group of people that were doing the gossiping when I heart the alert - bandits were attempting to attack the dam. Growling out in frustration, I turn to run towards that side of town, slinging the rifle from around my back once I assumed my nearly hidden position on the wall. We make quick work of the bandits, especially since we are heavily fortified and secured. That doesn’t stop them from trying, though.

Once the attack is over, I search the throngs of people for Tommy, just spotting him getting on his horse and heading home. Cursing, I turn, heading towards Tommy’s house on foot, my mind now completely on Joel since the bandit attack was over. Was he still in town? Does he know I’m here? Does he know he has a daughter?

I arrive at the farm and immediately head for the barn, knowing Tommy would still be tending to his horse. Sure enough, he had just finished putting her away, locking the gate behind him.

“Tommy!”

He sighs and doesn’t look at me right away. Which tells me he knows exactly why I’m here.

“Hey, Catie.”

“Is he here?” I’m standing just a couple feet from him, arms crossed and my foot tapping slightly with nerves.

“Who?”

“Fuck you, Tommy. You know who.”

“I-”

“Tell me the truth.”

He meets my gaze for a moment before nodding. “He was.”

He was here. Joel was here, in Jackson, alive and I didn’t- wait. Did he say was?

I swallow hard, willing my tears to just wait until I’m by myself. “Is he ok?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean as much ok as we all are.”

I let out a breath of relief. He was ok. Probably a little worse for wear but he was ok.

“Did…did you tell him I’m here?”

Tommy studies me for several moments, his dark eyes bouncing between mine, as if he’s debating with himself. “I…did.”

He knows I’m here. Joel knows I’m here, alive and well and he just-

Oh.

Of course. It’s been nearly 20 years and it would be ridiculous to think the man still loved me after all this time. He didn’t even know I was still alive. He’d never even met his daughter. If he no longer cared about me, fine. But why wouldn’t he want to meet his daughter? Unless…

“Did you tell him about Poppy?”

Tommy’s entire stance is apologetic and I know his reply before his lips even part. “No.”

“What the fuck, Tommy?”

He puts his hands up in a calming manner. “It shouldn’t come from me.”

“Fuck you, Tommy! He doesn’t even know he has another daughter. He deserves to know-”

“You’re right, he does. But not from me-”

“I can’t fucking believe this. It’s been 20 years, Tommy. 20 years and he didn’t even stop to say hi? Maybe if you’d have told him about Poppy, he’d at least stayed long enough to see her.”

I poke him in the chest as hard as I can. “It’s your fault he left!”

Tommy grabs my wrist and pulls me closer, his voice lowering to just above a whisper. “He had other things to take care of.”

“What could be more important than family?”

“All of humanity.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He had a girl with him. Maybe…14? 15?”

My heart sinks. Did he have another daughter after the clickers came? As if he could read my mind, Tommy shakes his head.

“Not his. Her name is Ellie and she’s….special.”

“That’s disgusting, Tommy.”

He gives me a look. “She was bit.”

“Bit? And you let her into Jackson?”

“And she hadn’t turned.”

I could feel my eyes grow wide. Bit? Without turning? That’s impossible.

“How do you -”

“Saw the bite myself. I’ve seen enough of ‘em to know what they look like. It’s legit.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. This is huge. Definitely bigger than me.

“Yeah… anyway, he was takin’ Ellie to the Fireflies because they can supposedly make a cure out of her blood. Or that’s the hope anyway.”

“A cure?”

“Yup. This whole mess could be put behind us.”

This…this is life changing. World changing. My 20 year long devotion to a man I was deeply in love with paled in comparison to a cure for the clickers. Tommy told me Joel still had a long way to go, but if anyone could make it, he could.

“ ‘m sorry, Cat. I wish he could’ve stayed to say hi.”

“Did…did he say anything about me?” I hate how needy I sound.

“Honestly, we didn’t really talk about you other than me mentioning you were here. The focus was Ellie.”

I nod. The focus was on the right thing.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I doubt it. It’s a long trek and pretty dangerous. He’d be smart to just stay put, especially to take care of Ellie.”

I left the barn and headed straight home. Poppy was out with her boyfriend so I had the whole place to myself. Which gave me plenty of alone time to cry and, for the first time in 20 years, try to move on from the dream I had about starting a little family with a man I never stopped loving.

—----

Spring in Jackson is always beautiful. The colors come alive, blooming from every surface they can for miles in greeting the season change. It’s also the perfect time to start planting certain crops so they’ll be ready when it comes harvest season.

I’ve finished planting in the community garden, dirt crusted under my fingernails despite my scrubbing at the garden sink. I’ll be able to use a brush at home, but for now, I smile at the grime on my clothes. It means Jackson will have food and enough to last through winter.

Taking off my apron, I toss it into the laundry basket to be cleaned and head towards the home I share with Poppy. She doesn’t spend as much time there these days, but I can hardly blame her. She is 20 and in a pretty serious relationship. I would not be surprised if the boy popped the question any day now.

I turn onto Main Street and Mrs. NoseyPants stops me. I know it’s not her real name but it fits her better.

“Catie! How are the crops going? Jackson going to survive?”

“Mmhhmm. We should be great.” I try to step around her, but she blocks my path.

“How’s that daughter of yours? Still getting on with the Miller boy?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I hope he makes an honest woman of her before something happens.”

“Something happens?”

She looks around, as if she expects anyone to actually give a fuck about what we’re saying. “Yes. Like an out of wedlock child.”

I plaster on a fake smile. “Oh yeah. That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t like your tone, Catie.”

I open my mouth to offer some sarcastic retort about not really giving a rat’s ass what she thought of my tone, but my gaze moves over her shoulder and the crowd parts just enough for me to see him.

Joel.

Unmistakably him, despite what the last 20 years has put on his shoulders. His back is to me, but his head is turned to the side, looking at all of the houses and buildings that line Main Street. Fuck he’s still handsome.

“Are you listening to me, Catie?”

I blink but don’t take my eyes off Joel, afraid he’d disappear if I did. “Full offense Mrs. Bennett, but I don’t have time to listen to your outdated and hateful words. Have a nice day.”

I know her jaw has dropped as I scoot around her, and I know I’ll probably pay for that later, but I couldn’t care less. My eyes are fixed on him as he walks slowly, eyes still moving from house to to house, taking it all in. I’m only several feet away before someone literally walks into him, dropping the giant stack of boxes they had been carrying.

“I am so sorry sir!”

The young man stoops to try and gather up the boxes and Joel turns to face him, bending to help him gather them up and reassemble them in his arms. “Don’t worry about it.”

The boy nods and takes off. Joel’s eyes follow him, making sure he doesn’t drop them again when his gaze meets mine. Those dark eyes move right into recognition and shock, blowing wide as it finally sets in who he’s looking at.

I hesitate only a moment before I move towards him, nearly running and shoving a few people out of my way. And suddenly, I’m standing in front of him, all 5’11 and broad shouldered, just as he had been 20 years ago. More lines adorn his face, and several scars, his hair is speckled and streaked with greys, but somehow it makes him all the more attractive. My breath catches in my throat and I find myself speechless in front of the man I would’ve given anything to speak to for 20 years.

“Catie?” He chokes out my name, eyes scanning mine as if he was waiting for me to say he was mistaken. That I wasn’t who he thought I was.

A quick sob escapes me as I nod frantically. “It’s me.”

His hand, large and warm just as it always has been, comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my cheek, as if touching me was proving to him that I was real. And then he pulls me into his chest, hugging on to me tight, like I would disappear from his grip if he didn’t. I hug him back, crying into his broad chest, unable to believe that I was finally, finally, holding onto him.

He pushes me back slightly, only to look at my face. “You’re…you’re alive.”

I chuckle through my tears. “And so are you. I thought Tommy told you I was here?”

He nods, his dark eyes still on my face. “I thought he was makin’ shit up to try and keep me here.”

“Well that does sound like Tommy.”

Joel chuckles deeply and it sends a jolt through my body. God how I missed that sound.

“He told me you lived down this way.”

I cock my head to the side. “Were..were you looking for me?”

Pink blooms across his cheeks as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “I had to see if he was full of shit.”

“Fair point.”

We stand there, in the middle of the street just staring at each other for several minutes before I blink back to reality.

“Are you hungry? I was heading home to make something to eat and shower. I…if you want to join me?”

His eyes darken briefly and I realize too late what I said.

“I’d love to. But…”

He’s struggling with words.

“..but… what?”

He clears his throat, looking away from me for the first time. “Wouldn’t your uh…husband or boy friend or whatever be upset?”

Smiling up at him, I shake my head. “I don’t have either of those.”

His shoulder seem to slacken in relief. “Oh. ‘m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

The corners of his mouth tick upwards in a small grin and I feel like my insides are melting through my skin. How can this man still get me going after 20 years?

“Lead the way.”

I gesture down the street in the direction we’d have to go to get to my place. We don’t say much, Joel still taking in Jackson but always having one eye on me. I know we’re about to have a difficult conversation. How will he feel about Poppy? About how our life turned out? Or his? Tommy had told me about Sarah when I first came to Jackson. The hardness behind his eyes shows that he’s still dealing with the grief and I imagine he always will. It’s no easy thing to lose a child.

We arrive at my house and I unlock the door, heading inside and flipping on a light.

“You have power?” He asks.

“Mmhmm. Tommy was able to hook up a generator of sorts to the power grid. It’s heavily guarded and taken care of so no one has messed with it. He’s been talking about trying to use water or wind energy, but we need someone who knows that.”

I kick off my boots and Joel copies me, setting his down next to mine.

“Poppy? You home?” I call out, not wanting her to walk in the middle of whatever was about to take place. When I receive no reply after a few calls of her name, I shrug my shoulders in a ‘guess she’s not home’ way.

“Who’s Poppy?”

“You thirsty?” I head towards the kitchen and Joel follows, watching as I take out a pitcher of lemonade. “I also have beer. It’s…not the greatest but it’s something.”

“You make the best lemonade. I’ve been dreaming of it for years.”

I smile, turning to grab 2 glasses and putting some ice in each of them before adding the lemonade. I hand Joel his glass and his fingers briefly brush against mine. They’re rougher than before but not by much, and the jolt this light touch sends through is just as strong as it was 20 years ago.

I head back to the living area and sit on the couch, taking a sip while I motion for him to sit as well. He does, taking his own sip and I catch a nearly imperceivable moan at the back of his throat when he tastes the lemonade. I quickly shove my legs together, hoping he doesn’t notice. I try to cover by setting my glass on the coffee table and he copies me, wiping his hand on his jeans as he settles back, his body slightly shifted towards mine.

“Is Poppy your uh…girlfriend?”

I laugh this time, not at the idea of me having a girlfriend but at the look on his face while saying it. “No. No she’s-” time to tell him what you should have all those years ago “- my daughter.”

Joel nods, his eyes looking down at his hands and his shoulder slump slightly as if sad. “You- you said you didn’t have anyone.”

“I don’t.”

A knowing look passes over his eyes. “Oh. ‘m sorry for your loss.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. “My loss? No, Joel. Poppy is 20.”

“20…what?”

“20 years old.”

It’s his turn to look confused, as if math was passing over his vision. “She’s…20?”

“Yes.”

“So…that…that would mean when…you…” He shifts nervously in his spot on the couch, another swipe of his palms across his jean clad legs.

“Is…is she…”

“Do you remember that night? You had called me, telling me about that pain in the ass contractor you had to work with?”

Joel nods, his eyes glazed over in memory. “Yeah. I called to check on you because you couldn’t stop throwing…up…” His eyes snap to mine, and to my surprise, they were full of hope.

“I told myself it wasn’t the right time to tell you. But how the fuck would I have known that the world would end?” I chuckle nervously, fumbling as I reach got my glass to try and cover my nerves.

He lets out a puff of air. “So I have a daughter?”

My face feels warm under his intense gaze. “Yes.”

He lets out a half sob half laugh of joy, tears welling in his eyes before he tries to wipe them away with the back of his hand. “All these years I had a kid and I didn’t know. I didn’t know, Catie. I-” Another half sob half laugh escapes him and he takes a moment to compose himself, his body not used to such displays of emotion. Not anymore.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that night?”

Why didn’t I? “You sounded so stressed and worried and I didn’t want to add onto that. I was going to tell you the next time I saw you but…” but indeed.

“How long had you known?”

“That day. I had suspected for a couple of days but I had to wait until I was sure I had missed my period to test and I didn’t want to tell you and be wrong.”

“You should’ve told me, sweetheart. We could’ve done the test together.”

I chuckle darkly. “Yeah I probably should’ve done that.”

“Tommy never told me.”

“What?”

“When I was here before. He told me you were here but not that I…that I have…why the fuck wouldn’t he tell me?” Joel pushes himself up from the couch in anger, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. “He should’ve told me!”

“Joel, he did what he thought was right.”

He looks at me, anger flashing in his eyes. “He had no right to keep that from me. If I had known, I would’ve-”

“Not brought Ellie to the Fireflies for a chance to save humanity?”

He stops pacing, turning towards me with shock on his face. “He told you about Ellie?”

I nod, sighing. “He did.”

“And he didn’t tell me I had-have a fucking daughter? And that she was here?”

“In all fairness to Tommy, he only told me after I got pissed he didn’t mention her to you.”

Joel scoffs. “What an asshole.”

“I…I thought maybe if you knew, you would’ve…maybe you would’ve at least stayed to meet her.”

Anger leaves his body and he sits next to me on the couch, hesitantly placing his hand on my thigh. “I definitely would’ve. When he told me you were here…I was intent on seeing you. Or seeing if he was pulling shit out of his ass. But he reminded me how important my cause was and since it was time sensitive, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t at least have simply said hi?”

“Sweetheart, there is no ‘simply’ between us. If I’d have seen you, I wouldn’t have been able to leave.”

Tears fall from my eyes and I wipe at them furiously. “Did it work out at least?”

“Did what work out?”

“Ellie. And the Fireflies.”

Joel grows quiet for several moments. “Turns out they didn’t need her after all. Found others and couldn’t use the blood.”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying but now’s not the time to press him for more information.

“She come here with you?”

Joel nods. “I wasn’t just gonna leave her there.”

“No, no. I think that’s great. There’s a good community here. I’m sure she’ll fit right in.”

“She was already makin’ friends the moment we walked in the gate.”

A long pause passes between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a processing silence, both of us trying to categorize and file the information we both learned from the other. When I look at him, I can tell he’s far off, thinking and brooding on things, which isn’t always a good thing.

“I wish you’d have told me that night.”

Ah.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It would’ve changed everything! I would’ve grabbed Sarah and headed straight over to your place, bringing you…I don’t know, ginger ale and crackers? Whatever you wanted. We’d have stayed with you, started our family. Sarah so wanted a sibling. Especially a sister. Shit, she’d be so happy right now if she were….”

His voice tapers off but I know what he was going to say.

If she were alive.

I place my hand on his and squeeze it. “Tommy told me. I know nothing I say can make up for it, but I am so sorry Joel. I miss her terribly. I can’t imagine how it is for you.”

His mouth sets in a line, his jaw clenching, hand squeezing a little tighter on my thigh as if he’s trying to prevent himself from losing it.

“Maybe if I had known you were pregnant, and we came over, she’d still be alive.”

“Oh, Joel, no. You can’t think like that-”

“I failed her.”

He spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. The guilt in his words, however, was loud enough to hear from space. I bring my other hand to the side of his face, cupping his cheek, his patchy greyish stubble poking at my fingers, and gently turn his face upwards to mine.

“You are a great man, Joel. And a hell of a father. There is no way that Sarah would ever think that you failed her in any way. She loved you so much and idolized you.”

The tears come this time, unable to hold them back any longer. I pull him to me and hug him, cradling the back of his head as he cries into my shoulder, mourning the loss of his daughter anew as he attempts to put aside the intense load of guilt he’s carried around for the last 2 decades. We stay like this for a while, my own tears mixing with his, as the light from the setting sun streaks through the curtains.

Eventually, Joel pulls back, wiping at his face with the back of his hand before he finally looks at me, his beautiful eyes puffy from tears. I’m sure mine don’t look any better.

“Sorry about that.”

“Sorry for what? Being human?”

He smiles and the room lights up with it. “You were always so good at that.”

“At what?”

“Letting me feel things. And makin’ me feel like I wasn’t a complete fuck up.”

“That’s because you aren’t.”

He scoffs, smirking at me in disbelief. “I’ve had to do some shady shit to survive, sweetheart.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“You got me there. I’m still a fuck up though. Don’t know how you didn’t see it.”

“Hhmm…” I put my finger to my chin in mock thinking. “It’s probably because I’m in love with you then.”

Joel cocks his head slightly to the side, questioning my statement. I’m not sure why, as my love for him is no secret to me.

“In love? Not was in love?”

Oh.

“I-”

The front door opens and Poppy walks in. I nearly jump out of my skin, having been completely absorbed in our conversation. Or was it more of a confession?

“Hey Mom! I’m only home to grab some clothes. Then I’m heading to Lyra’s. There’s this new girl in town, Ellie? She’s only 15 but she’s pretty cool. Oh.” Poppy had walked into the living room, her eyes, exactly like her father’s, shifting from me to Joel. I stand and Joel copies me, staying put while I walk around the couch towards Poppy.

“Mom..I didn’t know you had company. You never have company.” She thinks she’s speaking quietly but it’s not quiet enough.

“Poppy-”

“I mean, I think it’s great, but….but…” Her eyes fully take in Joel, landing on his face as she stares, her eyes slowly widening in realization. She had only seen him in the photos I was able to share with her, a few printed ones and then some on the cell phone I had refused to toss away, carting it across the country along with a charger in hopes of finding power to charge it.

“Dad?” Poppy whispers in disbelief.

Joel looks nervous, his weight shifting from foot to foot. This man has faced countless clickers, bandits, and worse, but meeting his 20 year old daughter is the thing that does him in?

God I love this man.

His hand comes up and does a little wave as he stares back at her, clearing his throat. “Hi. I’m uh… I’m Joel.”

“Dad!” Poppy drops her bag and runs, launching herself over the couch and straight into his arms, wrapping herself around him as she cries. It takes Joel a moment to recover from the intense reaction, but he wraps his arms around her and holds her, hugging her just as tight. Tears obstruct my vision and I blink quickly, trying to wipe them away so I don’t miss a moment of this meeting.

Her feet back on the floor, Poppy pulls back, her eyes raking over Joel’s face. “Was I too much?”

Joel laughs, smiling down at his daughter. “Not enough.”

She laughs and he brings his hand to her face, wiping away her tears. “I’m sorry, Poppy.”

“For what?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t know-”

She waves her hand. “Mom told me everything. You never knew I existed and then the world went to shit. It’s ok. You’re here now and that’s what matters! Wait - you are staying right?”

Joel’s eyes shift from Poppy’s to mine and I look back at him waiting for an answer myself. I want him to stay, desperately need him to stay, but I understand if he wants to leave. I never asked if he had someone waiting for him somewhere.

“I don’t wanna step on you or your mom’s toes-”

Poppy blows a raspberry. “Step away! I know mom is thrilled you’re here. And I want to get to know my dad….dad… I can finally say that! ‘Hey, this is my dad!’ ‘Have you met my dad?’ I just…I can’t believe you’re here and not….not here.”

Clever way of saying dead.

“Me too, Poppy.”

“Mom, I know I said I would meet my friends, but-” she glances back at me and then smiles, giving me a knowing wink “-but I..will be going…to meet up with…Benny. Yeah, he’s uh probably waiting. For me. So I’ll just…grab my things and leave you two…alone…”

She is so not slick, but I love her so much.

She gives me another wink before fully turning to Joel. “We can hangout and talk more?”

“I look forward to it.”

She squeals and gives him one more hug before bounding across the hall to her room and reemerging only a handful of minutes later with a backpack.

“Poppy?”

“Mom?”

“Stay for dinner at least. Then you can meet up with your friends.”

“Ugh, mom. You’re smothering me.” She has a smile while she says it, casually tossing her bag down before sitting next to Joel.

I make dinner while they talk, Poppy telling him about her life and asking him a zillion questions about his. He seems to be able to talk about Sarah now, at least a little before Poppy tactfully changes the topic. They talk throughout dinner, laughing and joking, sounds I never thought I’d hear together. Eventually, Poppy leaves to hang out with her friends, excited to tell them about her dad. As soon as the door closes, Joel turns to me.

“Who’s Benny?”

Protective dad mode activated I see. Smiling, I tell him about Benny and how he’s a good guy and about he and Poppy. He seems more relaxed after but still in protective dad mode.

“I’ll have to meet him.”

“I’m sure you won’t have the choice not to.”

Dishes cleaned up, I offer Joel a glass of whiskey and he takes it, tasting a sip before setting it down on the coffee table as he relaxes back into the couch again.

“You and Ellie have a place to stay?”

“Yeah. Tommy and Maria gave us a house. Actually, it’s not too far from here I don’t think.”

“That’s great. I’m sure Ellie will be happy to have a more permanent place to live.”

“And her own room that she can slam the door to.”

We chat for a few minutes about parenting teenage daughters and the challenges it can bring. He takes another sip of his whiskey after telling me a bit about Ellie, or what he learned about her on their long trek anyway. It’s quiet between us again, but this time, I’m warmed by the whiskey and given a slight bit of confidence.

“In love.”

“What?” Joel asks, setting his glass down.

“From before. In love. Not was.”

He turns to me fully, his eyes raking across my face trying to detect a lie and finding none.

“It’s been 20 years, sweetheart. I don’t expect anythin’-”

“It’s always been you, Joel.”

His large hand cups the back of my head and pulls me to him, his lips crashing against mine and it’s like no time has passed, my lips immediately parting for him like they were created for just this purpose. His other hand comes up to cradle the other side of my head as my fingers cling to his shirt, trying to find purchase on literally anything. I feel like I’m falling but in the most glorious way possible. While I never gave up hope that he was alive, having him here, now, 20 years later, how we both defied odds to just end up in the same community, after the world had been torn apart…

He pulls back, his nose brushing against mine. “I never stopped loving you either, sweetheart.”

My hands slide up his chest and around his neck, gripping the curls at the back of his neck and feeling him groan as he slips his tongue in my mouth again, kissing me harder than before. I feel his fingers gently brush against the exposed skin at my hips, his hands having settled there and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. Joel’s touch has always sent electricity through me, but not having had it for 20 years is a whole new level.

“I don’t mean to be presumptuous, sweetheart, but-”

“My bedroom is down the hall, second door on the right.”

He smiles against my lips, chuckling darkly. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

—----

>>I Never Stopped Living You Part 2>>

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Original Idea from @theewokingdead:

"I have had this idea for a long-lost love refound fic with Joel Miller swimming around in my head for a while, but I don't think I'll ever get in the headspace to write it. So enjoy what I wish I could write and hope someone will steal. Warning: mention of pregnancy in the beginning.

Imagine it's September 26, 2013. You've been dating Joel for a while and, oops, you're pregnant. You're a flurry of emotions and have no idea how or when you're going to tell him. He calls you late that night, on his way home from a hellish day at the jobsite, telling you about the prick of a contractor he's been dealing with and can't risk losing his job. When he asks if you've checked in on Sarah you tell him that she's fine and you're sorry you were feeling too ill to stay with her today. When he inquires further about your illness, you opt not to say anything, not like this, not when he's had a shit day, and instead feign that everything is okay and you'll be fine. The call is interrupted by Tommy, and you insist Joel answer his call. He offers to call you back, but you tell him to go home and get some rest, that you'll hopefully see him tomorrow.

Of course, several hours later, all hell breaks loose. You manage to get a call through to Joel, telling you to stay put, that he'll come for you, then you lose connection. Joel never finds you, but you never lose hope.

Two decades later, you're living in Jackson, having crossed paths with Tommy a year earlier when he returned to Texas, where you never strayed far from. You overhear the talk - that Tommy Miller's brother is in town - but bandits attack before you can find the source of the rumor. Later, you find Tommy as he puts a horse away in the stable, and you question if it's true, that Joel is here, and he reluctantly tells you he was. You ask if he told Joel that you're here and he says that he did. Your heart sinks - of course he wouldn't still love you after all these years, but why wouldn't he at least want to see you before he left? You ask if he told Joel about your daughter - his daughter - and Tommy says no, that it shouldn't come from his mouth. You're furious, thinking maybe Joel would've stayed in town if he had known that he has a daughter. You let Tommy have it, and eventually he tells you why Joel was in town and why he left, about Ellie and the hope to find a cure. Finally, you come to your senses, realizing there are far more important matters, and try to move on from dreaming about having a little family with a man you never stopped loving.

Months later, you're walking around town when you run into Joel. There are a million different ways the reunion could go. How would you tell him about your shared daughter? How would he feel? Would he be pissed at Tommy for knowing and not telling him when he first came to Jackson? Would he be angry you didn't tell him that night when he called, before the Outbreak? Would he have done anything differently that night had he known - things that could've changed the trajectory of his entire life? Would he wonder if it would have kept you guys together as a family? Would he wonder if it would have even kept Sarah from suffering the fate she suffered? Would he blame you for it? I just imagine it would be one big emotional reunion. How would it end? I don't know. I just love a good re-found love fic - be it happy or sad. I love angst. I love an emotional Joel. It could be fun. But I'll never get around to writing it so let's just pretend I did 😭"

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @Hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @diaryofkali @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @jadore-andor @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @marrianena @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfic #tlouff #The last of us #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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whatthebodygraspsnot · 2 months

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"i told you, you would eventually start begging" :iancheeky:

"I told you, you would eventually start begging." + "Come on, please, do it" (from anon)

Ian may be the love of his whole life, but god damn is he a stubborn bitch.

Mickey's known this about him since the day they met. And even now, a decade later, this man is still sticking to his guns, yappin' about how he's in complete control when it comes to their sex life - how he'd never, ever, evvvver stoop to having to plead for something in bed, let alone beg. All those times it's happened in the past were just an illusion, apparently. Something he's never done.

Ian's a stubborn motherfucker.

And the only one worse than him is Mickey.

Ian groans in frustration, his top half squirming where he's been bound at the wrists and tied up to the top of their headboard.

No touching. No manhandling to get his way.

If he wants something, he's gonna have to use his words.

"Ugh...Mickey..."

From his leisurely slouch over his lap, Mickey grins up at him. That's right. It's starting. "Lookin' a little antsy there, Tough Guy..." he teases, "There somethin' you wanna say to me?"

Because he's gonna have to. Mickey's tied him up and turned him on without even touching him. And now they play the waiting game, Ian's cock hard and red and damn near twitching as Mickey makes a loose circle with his fingers, barely even brushing over him with each slow, teasing hover up and down.

He's showing him what could be. If he tightened his hold. If he was actually stroking over him and not just pretending with feather light touches.

He's playing dirty and he knows it and it's driving Ian fucking insane.

"Mickey..." he huffs, his hips trying to chase after it but getting nothing - just fucking up into the air as he bucks. It took a while to get here, but the wait was definitely worth it. "Fuck - I fuckin' hate you..."

Mickey grins. "No ya don't." That's funny though. Poor guy. "You're just finally realizing how much you need me, ain'tchya?"

Another sway of his hips upward, and then Ian's bottom half is collapsing back into the mattress, his frustration clear. "Why the fuck are you doing this to me..."

But, "Ain't doin' shit to you, sweetheart," Mickey says and it's true. "Told ya exactly what you need to do to get it, didn't I?"

"Ugh-"

"Didn't I?"

Ian exhales loudly, his head falling backwards to lean against the headboard. Stubborn bitch.

That's fine. Mickey's got all night.

And it's about time he ups the ante anyway.

The pop of their bed springs as Mickey leans over his lap has Ian looking back down, his strung out curiosity getting the best of him.

And fuck, the way he watches with those blown pupils... How his lips part in a heavy breath, waiting as Mickey makes a show out of letting drool pool and then drip right onto the head of his cock... Christ, you'd think his spit has some kinda magical powers or something.

"Oh..." Ian breathes out, from high up in his lungs. "Shit..."

They both watch it dribble down the side of his aching dick, and Mickey just knows that shit feels crazy right now. The tease of something wet and warm tracing all the way down to his balls, but never giving any pressure like he wants. A little prep, but for what?

Ian's cock pulses between them. The chain of his restraints pulls above his head. And oh...his tiny voice... "...Mick..."

"Mm...?" Mickey hums, smart enough not to fall for the change in his tone right away. He's known to do this. Ian's stubborn and greedy, but he's also a manipulative little brat if he thinks it'll get him what he wants.

So Mickey waits... Slips the loose ring of his fingers back up and away, so loose that he doesn't even get spit on them.

"Mick..." Again. Small, again. "I don't hate you...like I said I do..."

Mickey doesn't look up at him. Doesn't need to see those big faux doe eyes right now. "I know that, darlin'..."

"I don't-..." he shifts against the bed, fighting the way his hips try to buck up into nothing as Mickey blows a stream of warm air into his lap, getting his spit to glisten. "I love you..."

He's doing a decent job at trying to baby his way out of this. Sounds all cute and innocent and everything. Mickey could really fall for it and give him everything he wants, if he didn't hear the desperation in the fringes of his voice like that when he says it.

"Love when you touch me..."

Mickey can't help the grin that pulls to his face - knowing and amused. There it is. "That right?"

"Love it-..." he shifts on the bed again, trying to get himself closer to some friction. "Love when you jerk me o-....oh fuck..."

Ian's mouth drops open for good as Mickey drools all over his cock again, his eyebrows lifting with his heavy blink.

It's hot, Mickey's gotta admit. Even if it's torture.

Probably because it's torture.

A moment of silence, filled with heavy breaths as they both watch Mickey's spit drip down the side of his cock. He can practically hear his heart hammering away from here, poor guy...

Ian's chest rises as he fills his lungs, pressing the side of his face into his elevated bicep. It's to hide his groan of desperation, probably, but there's simply not enough coverage. "Come on..."

Any time now. "'Come on' what...?"

"Mickey..." He buries further into his arm, clearly trying to save face. But... "Please..." he finally begs. "Please - just fucking do it..."

It's got a rush of victory sweeping through Mickey's chest. Because there it is. Fucking finally. "Ohh, that's what you been wantin' this whole time?"

"Fuck..."

"What..." Mickey teases, and then after what feels like forever, finally closes the circle of his fingers so he can slowly stroke Ian's poor neglected cock. "Like this?"

And holy shit, you'd think he was fucking him with how immediately Ian's entire body tenses up, a moan slipping desperately through his bitten lips. "F-... Fuck!" Nice and slow. "Yeah - fuck... Please, Mickey..."

"'Please' what?"

"More..." He's already trying to fuck up into Mickey's hand, all the spit making it sloppy and wet. "Please - feels so fuckin' good..."

A war of attrition. And as usual, Mickey's come out on top. "Told ya you'd eventually start begging..."

Now, he'll take a little video - proof for the next time Ian's stubborn ass starts yappin'.

[ send me a smutty one-liner ]

#gallavich #ray writes #hehe hoohoo #smutty one-liners

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bunny-underground · 5 days

Text

¬ BTD Guys As Songs From My Playlist ¬

//Warning it's my opinion//

Strade (Lights Out - MSI)

Lets be honest most MSI songs fit Strade but lights out is so damn catchy. Also I feel like his character isn't that fleshed out compared to everyone else (YKMET will hopefully give him a little more depth, I'm feral for the man)

Technically it's about challenging authority but tell me that this wouldn't accompany his live streams?

"Punch your lights out, hit the pavement That's what I call entertainment"

Ren (Christmas Kids - Roar)

Is this projecting slightly? Yes but that's not the point. Ren, even with the death of Strade, is still stuck with him. He's still in his house with his rotting corpse and is suffering from guilt, Stockholm syndrome and trauma.

Christmas Kids while based on a true events is ultimately singing about no matter what this person does to leave their partner/Situation they'll never truly be free of it.

"You'll change your name or change your mind And leave this fucked up place behind But I'll know, I'll know"

Lawrence (Bit by Bit - Mother Mother)

You thought I was going with Oleander huh? As much as that's my favourite song it's about needing someone even though you're toxic, which I just don't feel is Lawrence

Bit by Bit on the other hand is about disappearing into the wilderness and getting away from everyone and yourself (or at least your problems)

"I'ma gettin' on a mountain Far away from the people on the ground"

Derek (Upper Class - Seb Lowe)

If you're not from the UK I apologise, Seb Lowes music focuses on a lot of social-political issues from over here because classism is a fucking joke.

The song focuses on a young man who's part of the upper-class, better put by Music tell "wealthy, entitled, and detached from the plight of the average person."

"Got a fine for assault, his money will cover it His money, his father's money a generational covenant Family are a pack of feening wolves at the chase Pant over a half-dead corpse on his estate"

Mason (Weight of the World - Sheyfer James)

Tell me this man doesn't advocate for a state of nature. Mason views humans and animals in the same vein, the weak die and the strong continue. In one of his endings he even seems somewhat impressed/proud of MC for being able to best him.

Weight of the world is about just that, a commentary on survival of the fittest and how that's just how the world works.

"That's just the weight of the world The weak and the weary will never survive"

Celia (Maneater - Nelly Furtado)

It's basic but come on- We know she's not with her husband for love but rather for business. Not going to say girl boss because she's clearly unhappy but she's leveraging the relationship for her own gains.

Maneater is about exactly that, a woman using her hold on the men she's with too financially bleed them dry before discarding them.

"When she talks, she talks like she can handle it When she asks for somethin', boy, she means it"

Fox (People Ii: the Reckoning - AJJ)

May have gotten a wrong read on his character but- To me in the DLC Fox comes across completely detached from MC (compared to Strade who was very much into what he was doing) It almost comes across methodical with him only getting into it later on (Almost looking guilty about it). With certain dialog it's almost like he just accepts this as being the way that it is, refusing to believe Stade had anything to do with how he turned out.

This song ultimately is about Nihilism and how nobody is an inherently good person and those choosing to be good are ultimately fighting a loosing battle. I'm stuck between two lyrics for him so...

"But there's a bad man in everyone No matter who we are"

and

"So here's to you, Mrs. Robinson You live in an unforgiving place"

Jack (Mr. Apples - Madness)

Madness is an older UK band perfectly suited for an old man like him. I think its overall theme goes well with him in regards to the whole corrupt officer life he's got going on.

About a well respected member of the community who knows how to leverage the system in his favour, in private he is up too no good.

"But when that old sun go down He's heading off up the wrong side of town"

#boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death 2 #tpof #btd 2 #btd strade #the price of flesh #ren hana #btd #strade btd #tpof fox #tpof jack #tpof celia #tpof mason #btd headcanons #headcanon #tpof derek #boyfriend to death strade

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oscarisaacasimov · 18 days

Text

"Why Would You Be Loved" by Hozier

Verse 1 It's only said to be kind the time that you have with love You're never told but you're loaned it It's a lie, the high that you have with love It feels like gold when you hold it And know it's sweet, to know it when it's gone, baby, So why, why, why

In Hozier’s self-titled first album, love could be a deliverance from the problems of the world (i.e., Take me to Church, Jackie & Wilson, To Be Alone, Work Song).

This latest release “from the vault” fits thematically into Wasteland Baby, where love is yet another complication in chaotic world (i.e. Shrike, Talk, Would That I, Sunlight).

Chorus Why would you be lovin' Why would you be lovin' Why would you be lovin', hey And, hey, why would you be loved Mm, hey, why would you be loved

Hozier repeats this existential question over and over – love is not permanent, or a safe haven, it ends up hurting us, so why do we keep doing it? Why bother to give and receive love?

A few years later, On Unreal Unearth, Hozier resolves his own question with All Things End. Despair and bewilderment at the inevitable end of love has turned into “nihilistic optimism.”

Just knowing That everything will end Should not change our plans When we begin again

Verse 2 Now the world falls apart it starts with their actin' up I wouldn't say it, but I blame them The bleedin' hearts, the arts & that other stuff All the same motivations will melt away Like snowflakes on a tongue, baby So why, why, why

Besides the struggle with romantic love, the other major theme of Wasteland Baby is the ominous dread of apocalypse approaching, and the need to rise up politically against the dangers of the ruling class.

“Bleeding hearts” and “snowflakes” are doing double duty here, as terms for the tenderness and fragility of romantic love but also as derogatory terms for those with leftist or progressive politics.

“The word falls apart, it starts with their actin up, I wouldn’t say it but I blame them.”

I can see several possible interpretations for this opening line of verse 2, and who is the “they” acting up:

It feels like the world falls apart when your relationship ends, and you know the end is near once “actin up” or more conflicts/annoyances begin between the two.

Hozier “blames them,” all the older musicians whose work he listened to in youth, that love is not as “the arts” promised. Now in heartbreak again, he feels unprepared or misled on the true nature of love (and maybe realizes that his work too has contributed to the cultural myth of “love conquers all.”)

Hozier may feel frustrated that artists can describe the world so well, but all their efforts and talent are just "other stuff" and cannot directly change or fix anything.

“They” are the ruling class, and the world is literally falling apart on their watch. “I blame them” for keeping the people fixated on finding perfect romantic love, instead of noticing injustices that we are all harmed by, coming together in larger communities for mutual care or political action. (This final theory may sound a bit tinfoily, but Hozier has politics side by side with love throughout so many songs in Wasteland Baby, it seems hardly a stretch. Look what’s coming in verse 3!)

Bridge Why would you play it all on somethin' as hollow as trust? What if you gave it all, to find that it wasn't enough? What if under the gaze of all, you come short when the going gets rough?

Hozier reveals a worse fear than his lover not caring enough, what if his own best isn’t good enough to keep the relationship going? The “gaze of all” may be a nod to his fame, which came from writing romantic love songs, and is sustained by fans, some of whom openly imagine that he must be the perfect boyfriend.

Bad enough for anyone to come up short in love, but for “Hozier” to fail in this way might be an extra mind-fuck or identity crisis for him.

This tension seems to be resolved in “Too Sweet” where Hozier admits that his career & lifestyle might make him incompatible with some romantic partners, but he loves his life and is content to go their separate ways.

Verse 3 They look for somethin' to be done for those that are most in pain What about me and my achin'? The scales rehung, the breakin' of yoke and chain What about me and my breakin'? And if you ain't for all, how could you try at all, baby? So why, why, why

I can hear the back and forth internal dialogue between two attitudes in the same mind, and boy do I relate to this exact exchange.

Part of Hozier wants to protest for justice and freedom, in the spirit of Nina Cried Power, Jackboot Jump, Be, and even Moment’s Silence. While another part of him is in so much pain that he wants to be cared for and not take on the burden of others pain. Heartbreak and the world hurtling toward destruction both feel like impossible struggles to solve.

[Tangent for Enneagram folks – Hozier is likely a type 4, which is described as romantic, creative, gentle, prone to sadness, high emotional intelligence. Type 4s have a “growth direction” of Type 1, which is described as hard-working, disciplined, devoted to their ideals, and concerned about justice in society. I hear this verse as some push and pull between the Enneagram 1 part that wants to save the world, and the Enneagram 4 that wants to languish in sadness until they feel healed.]

Other Wasteland Baby songs that pair the ruin & hope of love with the ruin & hope of apocalypse include:

Be Be love in its disrepute (lover, be good to me) Scorches the hillside and salts every root (lover, be good to me) And watches the slowin' and starvin' of troops And, lover, be good to me (lover be good to me) Be there and just as you stand (lover, be good to me) Or be like the rose that you hold in your hand (lover, be good to me) That grow bold in a barren and desolate land And lover be good to me

Wasteland Baby And the day that we'll watch the death of the sun That the cloud & the cold and those jeans you have on Then you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs Wasteland, baby I'm in love I'm in love with you

NFWMB Ain't it a gentle sound, the rollin' in the graves? … Ain't it warming you, the world gone up in flames? … Ain't you my baby? ain't you my babe?

#hozier #wasteland baby #why would you be loved

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thedeafprophet · 4 months

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RE: the "curtains are never just blue" post,,,what Are the reasons your characters dress the way they do? 👀

Are you prepared for a rant? this is how you get a rant

So when it comes to characters and outfits, this is something I put a lot of thought into.You can learn so so much about characters from what they wear, from personality, to class, to day to day practicality.

What someone chooses to wear makes a huge insight into who they are as character.

Lets start by looking at Alex

Alex dresses really simply. His colour palette is limited, sticking mostly to browns, white, and black. These colours and how he wears then give you some insight into his personality - he's not some who gravitates towards colour, and most importantly he's not someone who wants to stand out.

Combined with the thief cloak he wears, you can pretty easyily get the sense that he's some who hides, and a shadowy character. pretty easy to pick up on what exactly his career is.

From a class standpoint too, Alex has really basic outfits of the time period, something that indicates his connection to the lower class. His outfit also doesn't change much, which implies further into his disinterest in even pretending to be someone who pays attention to class expectations.

Also a tidbit - Alex keeps the top button of his shirts undone because the stiff button on the top gives him sensory hell lol. His outfits are picked for comfort and practicality, not for showing off

Now lets compare that to how Jamie dresses

From that start, you see the palpable difference here.

Jamie wears all the layers of the time period, from suits to vest and shirt. But we also see them in lesser attire - Jamie frequently goes around in just their vest, indicating their great inclination towards scandal and a laissez faire

Most imporantly, we can tell they are someone who cares. About what they wear, they care about what people look at and see of them. They want to show off and make an impact. They are also clearly someone who has money, at least now, with a variety of outfits and a variety of colour and fabric. They're someone who wants that to be known.

And then we get into the colour - Jamie's primary colour scheme is red, white, and black, somethin which could imply their conflicting lean of moral alignment within the games lore.....

Most prominently though, its the white and black are shades that allow the red to stand out. Red as a colour can imply many things, first of all the ambition that they were made for lol, but also the colour of blood, of wine, and scandal. Red is also a colour that is bold, heat, and can very promintently imply danger - with that being Jamie's main colour, it stands out and stands to question of why

And - it perhaps give some insights of other characters they may be connected to when it comes to that colour....

I could rant further......a comparison of Josehine and Aurora;Josephine's need with societal pressure to perform femininity vs Rory's complete rejection of those expectations. Josie keeps to minimal colours except on special events, and you can tell she is most herself when she is within her labcoat and lab space. Rory beginning her arc covered by her coat until later on when she's come into herself wearing a suit and standing talll...

I could say so much but ah. this post has gotten long hasnt it 😅

#asks #oc talk #long post #design talk

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my-soupy-brain · 1 year

Note

reader reads about a new massage technique to help ted with his sciatica - it genuinely makes him tear up that someone is so thoughtful and wants to help him :)

Massage is such an underrated way to show you love someone. I know not everyone likes to be touched - and shouldn't if that's not their thing. But as someone who loves a good massage, offering one to a partner is just the ultimate comfort. Let's gooooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: None, fluff-city.

---

Ted walked in the door, holding his back. His expressive eyebrows were scrunched together. You saw him as soon as you heard the door close, rushing to take his backpack and coat.

"Oh sweetheart, your sciatica acting up again?" you ask, kicking yourself because of course that's what's wrong. But he doesn't mind.

"Y-yeahhh," he musters, wincing as he gets his coat off.

You're prepared for this. Though you never want Ted in pain, you've taken it upon yourself to study up on some techniques and at-home massages you can offer to help relieve his pain.

"Oh sweetie, don't bother with all that," you stop him from jumping in to help with the dishes. "No, go sit down."

Ted balks. "No, dishes need to be done, you did them last night and it's my turn!"

You cross your arms and stare him down.

"Theodore Lasso -- go sit. You're not aggravating that back any more today," you scold, pointing at the living room. He sighs heavily, knowing he's going to lose the battle and retreats to the sofa.

Once finished in the kitchen, you join him in the living room, where he has a pillow shoved behind the low arch of his back, and he squirms to get comfortable.

"Teddy, I have a suggestion..." you offer, pensively. Ted's never had a massage, to your knowledge, and you're not sure how he'll accept the offer.

He looks at you, his eyes still pained.

"I've been reading up on sciatica, and I talked briefly to the team physiologist last week, and I have some techniques I've learned that may help relieve the pain..."

Ted's eyes turn up, curious and touched at what you're offering.

"I'd love to try them, see if I can help. Nothing I'll try will make it worse, but I can't promise relief either," you assure. "And I'll only do it if you want. I don't know how you feel about massages and all that."

Ted smiles, grabbing your hand, kissing the top of it.

"Aren't you just the sweetest damn thing," he says. "I'd love to try. I certainly ain't findin' relief on this couch."

Minutes later you have him in the bedroom, face down on the bed with his shirt off. And oh, how you love his broad shoulders and little love handles. He's perfect the way he's made - you wouldn't change a thing.

"OK, Teddy, are you comfortable?"

He nods.

"I"m going to put some warming oil on my hands before I start, OK? Just relax. If I pinch somethin' that feels icky, just let me know."

He nods again. "OK, sugar."

As the oil touches his skin, he makes a low moan of relief. The heat already takes away some of the pain. You work your fingers and hands slowly on his back, rubbing up and down the spine with your thumbs pressing to relieve the pressure.

"You OK, honey?" you ask.

"I'm wonderful, sugar," Ted replies, muffled as he relaxes into the mattress.

You lean in closer, adding a bit more pressure, your thumbs working in tight circles up his back and even into his shoulders. He groans at this, his shoulders feeling pounds of weight lifted.

More oil, back to work.

You press your fingertips hard into his low back in the middle, slowly, slowwwwwly pushing them up his back.

"Ugh, yeahhhhhhh," Ted groans, making you smile.

"Is that good?"

"The best."

You smile, happy to give him some relief. You repeat the motion, spreading your hands up to his sides, his shoulders again, his deltoids (look at all the stuff you learned!)

It's quiet, aside from a little music on your phone. He moans again, the feeling of your hands on him working out the tightness making him so happy.

You don't see it, but his eyes tear up.

Never in his life -- not his 40-something years on earth -- has anyone taken the time and this much care for him. He's always muscled through. Carried on. Grimaced, popped a Tylenol, and gone about his day.

But here you are -- wonderful, beautiful you -- trying to learn how to help him. And putting it to action.

He sniffles.

"Oh, Teddy, are you OK? Did I hurt you?" you ask, immediately concerned.

"Not at all, sugar," he says, rolling over to his side, holding your hand so you can sit down on the bed. "I've never felt so loved in my damn life."

You smile, brushing his hair off his forehead -- a dark auburn waterfall tendril spilling over like it often does. You lean in to kiss his lips.

"It's the least I can do for my perfect man," you whisper, making him smile brighter, knowing he's in good hands - literally and figuratively - with you.

---

I actually went and looked up massage techniques for sciatica. I was DEDICATED to this prompt being done right. I hope it was lovely. Ted deserves some damn love so let's rewrite the book a bit to make sure he gets it. Thanks for the prompt, friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #i'd pay good money to give ted lasso or jason sudeikis a massage #and you know those hot oils would just feel like heaven #let's take care of teddy he deserves it

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freesia-writes · 1 year

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Tech, Phee, and a Fix-It Fic

Took this post from @ashyybees-art and ran with it, though it totally got away from me. It should have been wayyyy shorter and more simple. But, alas, here we are. Also... this was really hard to write cause I'm not a huge fan of Phee just yet. :/ Sorry. Prolly cause I was elbows deep in my own Tech/OC fanfic when she came onto the scene. But it's a lil somethin to hold us over with a happy headcanon until we get further news in season three. <3

Words: 2k SPOILERS for the season 2 TBB finale! -=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Phee had always told herself she would be independent. Capable. Self-sufficient. Strong. She didn't need anyone but enjoyed the company of others… a little too much, recently. The squad of "deviant" clones had left a lasting impression in her life that she hadn't quite been able to shake, especially the demeanor and appeal of one bespectacled crew member in particular.

So when she put a tracking beacon on the Marauder, she told herself it was for practicality, for protection. She wasn't one of those clingy sorts who got too attached and fawned over someone; she was a clever and skilled woman who thought of backups and contingency plans for herself and those she… loved? It wasn't something she would utilize unless she absolutely had to; better to have it in place and not need it than to wish she had.

Something felt different the night they left. Omega, typically delighted to share anything and everything with her, had been uncharacteristically cryptic about their covert mission. She'd made an attempt to get a clue from Tech, but he was even more shifty than usual, and eye contact was enough of a struggle to get from him, let alone a straight answer. She couldn't tell if he was distant because of stress or anticipation, or perhaps she had done something to offend him? Perhaps he had changed his mind from the warmth and interest he had shown when they first arrived on Pabu?

Regardless, she had responded to his nervous little goggle adjustment with the typical flutter of the heart and a small smile. She knew him to be incredibly proficient, unassumingly strong, and incomparably intelligent. So they parted with a casual farewell, and she anticipated the next time they would see each other. Perhaps he would share what had been weighing so heavily on him for this particular mission.

She couldn't sleep that night, alternating between tossing and turning with anxious hypotheticals and drifting into periods of sleep that were punctuated with disturbing nightmares. This was unusual, and in the wee hours of the morning she gave up, heading to the balcony of her home to watch the sunrise. It wasn't an obsession, or a need to have him in her sight the whole time… just an undeniable sense of foreboding. She doubted he would react favorably to her shadowing him, but perhaps if he didn't know…

Breakfast found her equally unsuccessful in focusing on anything else. The nagging feeling had only grown, to the point that it was becoming unbearable. She hit her limit. An hour later she was prepped and in her ship, activating the tracking beacon. She'd just take a look, a quick fly-by, to assuage the unrelenting plague of worry.

It wasn't her first time having to sneak past Imperial ships, and she transmitted a trusty clearance code that hadn't failed her yet. As she descended, the radar's beeps came more quickly. She dropped into the atmosphere and her eyes were met with towering rock formations poking above the clouds; it was impossible to tell how far below the planet floor was. Her heart leapt in her chest -- there was the Marauder! It was neatly folded against one of the cliffs, perched on a perfectly-sized ledge. No sign of light or activity, however, so she took a gentle loop to see where they may have gone.

Sudden alarms notified her of the approach of incoming craft, and she peeled away to avoid being seen, diving down toward the forest canopy. Her ship was small and easy to navigate, and she lowered it into a small clearing as a handful of Imperial fighters shot overhead. She whipped out her electrobinoculars, following their path, and the scene that met her eyes made her stomach drop to her feet. Blaster bolts flew between skyrail cars, and the ships pelted them with shots on a fly by before arcing through the air to come around for another run. She spotted Hunter's red bandana leaning out the window of one of the cars as he sent a few shots at the opposite car, and then a swinging figure caught her attention.

She gasped aloud. Tech. Dangling far below the cars by a single wire, attempting to climb but moving too slowly as the fighters approached yet again. Her mind raced. What could she do? She wouldn't be able to launch fast enough before they came by again, and even if she did, she would likely be shot down, outnumbered as she was. Before she had the chance to think of any other options, a single blaster bolt fired from Tech's suspended form, breaking the skyrail coupling, and he began to free fall, along with an entire car following above him.

Simultaneous fear and focus kicked into high gear. She plotted his trajectory, fighting down the waves of nausea that broke upon her, and began to sprint into the forest. The trees and rocks seemed to reach miles into the sky above her, a sickening realization, and she picked up the pace, gasping for air but refusing to slow down.

Crashing through a wall of bushes that scraped along her arms, she let out a cry as she saw his crumpled form ahead, unmistakable with the white armor and colorful accents. His backpack, cracked in half, dangled from a sharp branch above, and his helmet had splintered, scattering shards across the clearing. Collapsing to her knees next to him, she gently rolled him onto his back, taking a sharp inhale at the horror she saw. His fall had been broken only by tree branches, each one leaving a mark as it hit him with full force. One had whipped across his head, shattering his goggles, which dangled from one ear, and horribly disfiguring his face. Dirt mixed with blood and bone, and she fought to maintain consciousness. She didn't know how extensive the damage was, but she had to get him somewhere, anywhere, and fast.

***

Shapes and shadows, muffled sounds… Waves of pain… Dreams of light, always ending in darkness. Weightlessness and water began to form in his mind. The rhythmic sound of mechanical breathing. But all was dark.

Suddenly, weight returned. He was being moved; the ground was shifting below him. He was lying on his back, as far as he could tell, but movement was nearly impossible. Everything felt so heavy, as if he were made of the thinnest glass and could shatter at a moment's notice. And the darkness, the murkiness. He thought his eyes were open but there was nothing but shadows, appearing from nowhere and startling him, taking form and then melting away.

The whirring sound of servos grew nearer, accompanied by a robotic voice, "CT-9902, can you hear me?"

It took a few swallows to remedy a dry mouth despite the recent emergence from water, and his voice cracked as he spoke, "I can."

"I am your assigned 2-1B medical droid. You have sustained heavy damage."

"Diag… diagnostic report," he breathed, fighting a rising sense of panic at the unresponsiveness of his vision. He tentatively attempted to move fingers and toes, shifting his weight to and fro, but he could see nothing but vague patches of dark and darker. As the droid recounted his injuries, his claustrophobia grew. It was irrational. It served no purpose. But the inability to snap out of it, to look around at his surroundings, felt suffocating. Focusing on the droid's analysis as a way to ground himself, he calculated the possibilities of his future.

It wasn't a fruitful endeavor, nor did it have its usual soothing effect. He had always been one to successfully employ mind over matter, logic over emotion. But the sensation of being trapped within his own body was a novel one that was proving to be insurmountable as of yet. The droid finished its debriefing, machinery indicating some kind of movement, and the pit in his stomach grew heavier.

"Where am I?" he asked with a gravelly voice.

But there was no reply.

Time stretched into eternity, and his ability to analyze and predict was significantly less sharp than he was used to. His nose was assaulted with the sterile scents of a medical bay and his ears picked up every beep, whoosh, and whir. His mouth felt dry and metallic, and the sensations throughout his body were a myriad of pain, awareness, and comfort. But his vision was gone. Almost entirely. He assessed the likelihood of what had happened, slowly bringing a hand to a heavily-bandaged face. His eyes were not covered, however, confirming his fears.

Solitude usually didn't bother him, but he found himself yearning for his brothers. The factual analysis of his situation did nothing to improve his mental state. He needed answers, and patience was not a prominent strength of someone who had been able to make things happen quickly and effectively his whole life.

"Well… You've certainly looked better," came a familiar voice, breaking him out of his morose reverie. It was not a voice he had expected, but it was an improvement to the circumstances nonetheless.

"Phee," he said quietly, "What happened?"

He felt a weight on the side of the bed, accompanied by a shifting shadow overhead, then the gentle, warm touch of a hand to his bare cheek that made him flinch involuntarily. A quiet sound of sympathy came from her, and the hand disappeared.

"You decided to go flying without a jet pack," Phee answered, "And the local landscape seemed to have an issue with that. Particularly the trees. And the ground."

"It was necessary," he replied, still struggling to speak more than a short sentence at a time. "My vision is impaired?"

"Your whole body is impaired," she said, attempting to keep it light, though the gravity was betrayed by the emotion in her voice. "You're lucky to be alive. But yes, for now."

Tech let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the pillow in defeat, "That is not ideal."

"You being alive is all that matters. You hear me?" she said with empathetic conviction.

"I do," he answered, resigned to the fact that a satisfactory response would require more stamina than he could afford. Phee rose to her feet.

"Good. Now you work on healing so we can get out of here."

***

The process was painstakingly slow, even with the miracles of bacta and medical droids, but finally the day arrived that they would be able to return to Pabu. Tech managed to shower and prepare on his own, feeling along the walls and fumbling about for each step. The whoosh of the door notified him of someone's arrival, and the identity was quickly confirmed by that euphonic voice.

"What are you wearing?" Phee asked as she saw him. He was wearing the medical bay defaults, which looked similar to his blacks, but had folded and tied an extra shirt around his eyes like a bandana. She wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. "I think Hunter has already claimed that particular fashion statement."

"It is likely that the appearance of my face is disconcerting, considering the damage from the fall. I did not want to be the cause of any detestation."

"Detestation! Listen to you. Come here, Brown Eyes," she invited, drawing close. "I'm taking this off, alright?"

"You may have to select an alternative term of endearment," he said as she gently pushed the makeshift bandana up and off his head. His face had indeed healed, but the rich brown eyes that had so captivated her were covered in a thick layer of milky white, and moved unseeingly in her general direction. Scar tissue tracked from his temple on one side to his ear on the other, creating a knotted texture on his previously sharp profile. He dropped his chin a bit, in a posture of shame, and her heart broke.

She dropped the folded shirt on the nearby bed, reaching for his hands with her own. His startle reflex had diminished only slightly; it would take a while to get used to a world of shifting shadows. She traced her hands up his arms, feeling him stiffen slightly at the touch, then up to his cheeks, cupping his face with as much tenderness as she could convey. She gazed into those eyes, wishing he could see the emotion on her face as she did.

"You're not gonna get off the hook that easy," she said, gently brushing his cheekbones with her thumbs. "Besides, Brown Eyes, the phenotypic eye color for all clones is brown, you know, even if you can't see them," she said with a grin that could be heard in her voice.

And for the first time since the accident, a small smile curved the corner of his lips as well.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Requested Tags: @32rotations @cocolinagoodnight @thenonsensebatch

If you enjoyed it, feel free to check out other works on Wattpad or Ao3. :) Got a full-length Tech fic, a short cute "first date" with Gregor, a short-ish rivalry of Tech/Crosshair fighting over you, and an ongoing full-length canon-aligned backstory on Howzer. :D

HANG IN THERE TIL SEASON 3! Much love!

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twilightmalachite · 8 months

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Raison d’être - A Premature Burial 10

Author: Akira

Characters: Shu, Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"“It appears I am hated here. Well, I suppose it isn’t easy for you to accept the fact that your grandfather, who you seem to admire, has an illegitimate son.”"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: The Itsuki's House Cellar

Some hours later, in the cellar at the Itsuki Family Villa…

Raffaello: “Welcome.”

“Or rather, should I tell you, “Welcome home”, Shu-kun?”

“For a long time this was your room as a child, your very own secret base, wasn’t it?”

Shu: I do not care what you say. Get straight to the point.

Your strangely condescending tone reminds me of who I hate most in the world and it infuriates me… I do not want to listen to you talk for too long.

Mika: Nnah~, yer right, I thought he reminded me of someone! The way he speaks is similar to the Student Council President—I mean, Tenshouin-senpai.

Raffaello: “Tone is nothing but ornamental. It appears you have quite the annoying temper of feeling you have to complain about every person you meet.”

Shu: And just like him, every single time someone says something to you, you turn whatever they say back at them.

Are you unable to speak without denying who you are talking with? You must have a great personality.

Raffaello: “Fufu, no need to be so pointed. I’m not your enemy.”

“Honestly, I do not care about my father—Your grandfather’s fortune.”

“I simply want my father, who pretended I did not exist, to recognize and call me as his son, just once, before he really passes away."

Shu: …If that were the case, I would sympathize. But as there is no proof that you are truly Grandfather’s illegitimate child, I can not so easily not go along with you.

Thus far, you only look like a con artist trying to sneak in for some of my Grandfather’s inheritance.

Raffaello: “It appears I am hated here. Well, I suppose it isn’t easy for you to accept the fact that your grandfather, who you seem to admire, has an illegitimate son.”

“I guess I’m going to have to work quite hard for you to call me your uncle.”

“No, for that reason, there is a reason that I’ve called you here.”

“Kagehira-kun, there’s a book with needlessly extravagant binding around here, is there not?”

Mika: Nnah? Don’t change the subject so quick, I still dunno how t’act towards ya, Raffaello-san!

Raffaello: “You may treat me just like another person, that’s all I wish.”

Mika: ‘Kay… Umm, was it this book?

This also struck my curiosity. It’s been locked up with a real huge lock fer some reason, what is this?

Shu: Perhaps it is a grimoire or something. My grandfather also did like the occult.

Mika: A-A grimoire? I jus’ figured it was a diary or somethin’?

Actually, Oshi-san, ya were always usin’ this place as yer secret base when you were a child, right? Do ya recognize it?

Shu: No, I’ve never seen a book like this. My grandfather purchases new items and vendors sort through this collection periodically, so the array of items here is frequently changing.

But anyways, this is a strangely antiquated book. It doesn’t appear to have been formally published. Something like a doujinshi[1] likely, although that expression is a bit of a misnomer these days.

Hmmm… An untitled book sealed with a lock, and Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew?

Following that manner, I wonder if the sealed one is a Shakespearean work too?

No, that’s not quite right. This book is too thick to be The Taming of the Shrew, which is not meant to be too long.

The text… Ahh, not only is it hand-written, but it seems to be in Classical Japanese.

While it is a literary style that utilizes old character forms of Chinese origin, this was the style of writing that was used in our country in the old days.

The colloquial style of writing that we are familiar with is still in its infancy.

Mika: Nnah~… As expected, I can’t read this. Although I feel I can kiiiinda grasp what it’s sayin’ through the kanji I learned in ancient Japanese literature class.

And I also jus’ ate Chinese food.

Shu: What kind of logic is that?

Hmm… But, this is strange. I ran through it briefly, and it’s completely different from Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew.

It’s fashioned like a sole man’s travelogue in a foreign country. Much like Mori Ogai’s The Dancing Girl[2], in a sense.

Raffaello: “—There is a deadline for the Funeral Contest. Since there is a limited amount of time, allow me to spoil the story…”

“The protagonist of that The Taming of the Shrew, whose name is never mentioned in the text, is your grandfather.”

Shu: What did you say…?

Raffaello: “Kagehira-kun’s intuition that it might in fact be a diary was indeed correct.”

“Although it was made to look like a novel, this is a memoir left behind by Shu’s grandfather—My father.”

“It is a diary, or perhaps more accurately, a personal novel.”

Shu: What is something like that doing here? No, then what is this sealed book, with the same binding?

Raffaello: “Likely, similarly another of your grandfather’s diaries.”

“I do not know the reason it is here or why it is sealed. I have no means of knowing that.”

“However, I did have an epiphany the moment I saw it through this doll. My mother used to keep a diary with the very same binding—”

Shu: When you say your mother, do you mean my Grandfather’s mistress?

Raffaello: “To you, I suppose that is so. But to me, she is my sole loving mother in this world.”

“Anyways. Given the fact that it was a diary with the same binding, means they were most likely written during the same period.”

“And, from what I know about my mother's diary, she wrote about her youthful encounters with your grandfather.”

“A confession of infidelity, something that could be evidence.”

Shu: … …

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

1. At it's core, doujinshi (同人誌) simply means a self-published work of print; this includes novels, too. It's just been since more commonly used to refer to fan-made manga and the like nowadays.

2. The Dancing Girl (Maihime) by Mori Ogai is a romance story, written based on the author's own personal experience in a foreign country.

#raison d’être #raison d'etre #mika kagehira #shu itsuki #event #translation

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undervaluedagent · 2 years

Text

Duck does 100% care for Yellow Guy even if he's a twit: an incoherent ramble written by a Duck apologist. (Now under a read more because I know how to do that now!)

Quick note: this post may use ideas discussed in and was inspired by this post:

In Jobs, Yellow Guy acting strange and aging at an alarming rate is what gets Duck to break out of the world. Duck is a creature of habit. When things are as they always are, he feels safe. And when his friends are acting as they always are, he feels both he and they are safe. To Duck, the fact that Yellow Guy has changed so drastically from what he knows of him is a clear sign that something is wrong. This is a trend throughout the series for Duck to see things are wrong when his friends are acting off, as mentioned in the linked post.

Duck also freaked the fuck out when Yellow had an accident, and he went to get the med kit to save him the best he could! Even when Yellow's changed almost beyond recognition, Duck doesn't want him to get hurt.

In the Memories song, it's mentioned that Duck A) Told Yellow Guy about the military, and B) Told him he was far too weak to join. I'm gonna be slightly autistic for a second because all these puppets are bloody autistic, but Duck explaining his interests to Yellow Guy is a sure sign that Duck likes and trusts Yellow Guy. Now, when Duck said Yellow was too weak to join. That's mean, right? Well, yes. But think about it: Yellow's not shown any actual signs of physical weakness throughout the series, so chances are Duck is talking out of his ass. Why? Because the military is dangerous! And Duck doesn't want Yellow to get hurt! But Duck doesn't want to express that openly, so he hides it behind insults!

The. Entire. Family. Episode. Duck labels Yellow as the pet because this boy can't help himself, he has to poke fun. But of course this still means Duck considers Yellow part of his family! And he really doesn't want Yellow to leave him, along with Red of course but this ain't about him. Duck is uneasy the whole time they're at the twins' house because his friends are being changed, but less of their actions and more their role is being changed. They're going into a role away from Duck. Then Duck sings the family song, where he's clearly struggling to cope with the loneliness of not having the other two around. He misses them so dearly already, and he tries to convince himself he can live without them and it's heartbreaking, this bird loves his friends and has nobody else and never has had anyone else because there's three of them! Then at the end of the episode Duck asks what happened to the other family, showing a modicum of concern for what happened with Yellow while he was gone!

Not as much to say about Friendship, but he and Red both make Warren stick around because they want to help get Yellow back, and at the end Duck sings that song to Yellow along with Red to reassure him they don't hate him and they're still his friends. Sure, there's the fight at the end, but that was mostly for comedic effect lol.

(Nothing to say about Transport but it's cute how Duck and Yellow scream in tandem when the clipboard is insulted.) EDIT: After Red Guy says that he hates the clipboard and hates the house and Yellow Guy expresses distress, Duck goes to reassure him "he doesn't mean that." EDIT TWO: Duck resting his head on Yellow's shoulder for a moment. This has me thinking, Red's acting kinda weird in this episode, causing Duck to view Yellow as the more stable one at least temporarily. This isn't expressed much since Duck's kinda checked out for most of the episode but I think it might be the case.

Electricity. Oh boy. This one def got people a bit miffed at Duck, and for good reason. He did steal Yellow's accommodations that he needs. But he was also the one to give the new batteries to him in the first place, out of concern about the condition of the old batteries. Duck took them away later because he was scared. When his friends act different, something goes wrong. And Yellow is acting very, very different. In fact, Duck likely thought Yellow's intelligence would get him hurt eventually! Because he's acting wrong, and that means something worse than what usually happens is going to happen to him. Listen to Duck, he's so upset and stressed. He doesn't know what's going to happen. Is Yellow going to get sick of them and leave? Is he going to get hurt for not following the rules of this world? Is he going to get killed for it? Duck isn't malicious. He's anxious, he's traumatized. And he was happy to have Yellow back to normal and shredding things at the end. He was happy his friend was back to normal and everything worked out okay. EDIT THREE: Duck asking Red about Yellow in the fridge scene too, he hasn't forgotten about his other friend

Not from the TV series, but Duck and Red saving Yellow the last boiled egg from the chicken picnic because they love him. That one's pretty straightforward and sweet.

Lastly, the It's Nice That interview. Dubiously canon, but in it, Duck responds to the question "Who do you love?" with "Anyone who loves me back." Look at Yellow. Yellow definitely, absolutely loves Duck. And so, Duck must love him too.

(I ask that you don't tag or comment on this as a direct father/son relationship, I respect your headcanon, but this post assumes Yellow Guy is an adult and the DHMIS trio doesn't do strict nuclear family dynamics. Thanks for reading!)

#undervalued files #dhmis duck #duck guy #yellow guy #dhmis yellow guy #dhmis #don't hug me i'm scared #dhmis spoilers #lime friendship

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disaster-daydreams · 2 years

Text

See You Later pt. 9

Mammon (Obey Me! Shall We Date?) x GN!reader

See You Later Masterlist

A/N - Okay so this isn't going to end sad I swear. It won't end with a pretty gold ribbon but I won't end sad. Anyways, I know I literally dropped off the face of the planet. Uh,,, I can't go into detail about what happened but basically I got my entire life yanked out from under me wHOO! But I also started college and uh,,, 15 hours with 9 of them being writing intensive? Not a good choice. But I'm an English major now!! And next semester will be easier.

CW! Trauma, and MC collapses. Also, crying, bc MC was laying on the FLOOR for WAY too long.

See You Later Masterlist

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“It’s not bad, I promise. It’s just… problematic.” Barbatos sighed, pulling back to sit on the balls of his feet. “And I suppose I’m not being entirely truthful. That has happened before, just…” He hesitates, and glances at Diavolo.

“It’s nothing. Just know, for now, do not use your pacts. They will not work correctly, and you may end up hurting the brothers if you try.” Barbatos stands up and sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. “I will have to work on a solution. Lucifer,” he looks over, and suddenly Barbatos seems much older than anyone else in this room. “I will be out of commission for the time. Keep things under control.”

Lucifer nods, and Diavolo glances between them. “Do I… get any context for this?”

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend it now. Go to sleep. Your distressingly overdue paperwork can wait.”

Diavolo cringed, nodding and choosing to take this small mercy over questioning the butler. Barbatos, satisfied with this, turns to leave. Just as he makes it to the door, he turns. “Listen. The magic that was required to change you… it is incredibly powerful. You will find its equal in no books or legends. Do not attempt to alter it.”

The door slams as he leaves, and Diavolo lets out a shaky breath.

“That was… concerning, to say the least,” Diavolo laughs, and Mammon decides that he has definitely been crying. Part of him wants to comfort the prince, but he also doesn’t know if he can get up yet.

“What is he going to do? Being out of commission… and he didn’t ask, or even wonder if there could have been another way.” Lucifer murmurs, still looking at the doors. “There has to be some other way. He shifts, rolling his shoulders as he stands and pulls Diavolo to his feet. “In any case, I can’t carry them together. I’ll get Mammon; he’ll be the strongest. And heaviest.” Diavolo nods, uncertain. “Just to a bedroom, for now. We all need sleep.”

The shuffle down the hallway was slow and painful and tense. So many questions, and soreness, and exhaustion. Apparently Mammon had been out for only a day, and Diavolo had been inconsolable. Lucifer had barely slept since the beginning of this ordeal, he just didn’t show it as much. Barbatos had been by his side the whole time, and Satan had been running around doing his best to research the magic required to pull the human out of their trance.

Mammon, halfway to the bedroom they would stay in, was able to stand on his own. Lucifer was going to help Diavolo, but by the time he even thought about it, Mammon had glued himself to the human’s free side. They were both breathing heavily, and the human’s hand had begun to spasm, even in the clasp of Mammon’s.

“I feel like Barbatos knows something and won’t tell me.” Diavolo sounded crushed, like all the air had been taken from his lungs. The group kept walking.

“We are going to talk later about your impulsiveness, Mammon,” Lucifer’s voice was low and quiet, no trace of the threat the words conveyed. “You could have never come back.” The group kept walking.

“I feel like there’s somethin’ wrong with my head.” Mammon blinked rapidly, wavering dangerously. Lucifer grabbed his arm and righted him. The group kept walking.

“I hurt.” A squeak, barely audible, sounded before the human completely collapsed. Diavolo caught them, and he carried them bridal style the rest of the way to the room.

It was comfortable and cool, with a thick comforter on each of two wide beds. Curtains billowed in the breeze the doors created, shifting across the carpeted floors. Diavolo gently placed the human in the nearest bed, pulling the covers up to their chin. They smiled at him and made a small noise in the back of their throat, but the effort seemed too much and they gave up. Diavolo smiled and turned towards Mammon.

“You have the choice to stay in the second bed, but,” Diavolo blinked slowly, rubbing his eyes. “I think they would appreciate it more if you stayed with them. Go easy on yourselves, and sleep as long as you need.” His smile fell, and his gaze shifted past Mammon and Lucifer, focused on some distant point. “I think Barbatos may take a while.”

Mammon nodded, muttering a ragged “Thanks,” before pulling himself in with his human. Their hand twitched against his chest, and they nestled into him, pulling into his warmth. They were cold, unnaturally so, and shaking even more.

The sniffling started soon after the door creaked shut, their tears dripping onto his neck and hands gripping his shirt. Mammon pulled them closer, interlocking their legs and wrapping his arms around their waist. It clicked for him that this wasn’t over; they were in pain, of course they would be, they were in that horrible place for much longer than he was. There was so much he wanted to ask them; how many times they had lived through those memories, how much they had thought of him, what they were feeling right now.

He buried his face in their neck, breathing them in and wishing that this could have been under better circumstances, that one day they could be together without pain, or sadness, or some threat hanging over their heads.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed that on ya so suddenly,” he started, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I should’ve given ya time. I should’ve thought about all this before. I just-”

“Mams.”

“Right.”

He sighed, pulling them in. The drift off to sleep was slow and often interrupted; One of them would shift, or jerk awake, or have a nightmare, and the other would be there to comfort them. Time held no meaning - the door stayed closed, the view from the window never changed, and the only noise in the room was fabric shifting and steady breathing. For the first time since the exchange program began, the two were allowed to find solace in each other without fear or hesitation.

For the first time since they had met, they allowed themselves to love each other.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

See You Later Masterlist

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mkcannothelpyou · 8 months

Text

Play Mittsy for Me (Kafka-Robin-Whisperain)

AK/Kinktober 2023, Day 4: “Mitts”

Barring a corridor fly-by with a half-asleep Medical op, the "Movie Night is Changing Venues after Whisperain Asked Can We Move This to Her Room" gang safely Moves It to Her Room, where both guests take a seat on the bed. Ooh, nice place here.

"Kafka," Robin hisses after a while of staring down at her lap and looking like she's shaking apart from the inside. "Quit looking at stuff."

"Where d'ya want me to put my eyes, then? A Kafka's gotta look somewhere," Kafka hisses right back, both keeping it low while Whisperain's in the bathroom undoing her harness.

"Just don't… I dunno, steal anything or something."

"C'mon, that's not the Kafka MO. Besides, what's gotcha watchin' out so hard? It ain't even your stuff."

"Yeah, but it's hers, so!"

Probably filled with nerves from not wanting any rudeness to the nice lady, Robin grabs both Kafka's hands and clasps her claws firmly shut around them. Kafka actively does not appreciate the gesture, alternately prising each forceful paw off while the other reestablishes a grip. "Yannow, it's gonna take more than that to—"

"You may want some assistance to keep her hands contained," preempts a gentle voice from the other side of the room. Kafka halts the grappling, looks over, Robin turns to follows suit. Whisperain's emerged from the bathroom with goodies in tow.

"Are, um, are those boxing gloves?" Robin asks, quickly following it up with "Uh, waitwaitwait, of course not. Um?"

Kafka simply chirps "Watch," shakes Robin off and scoots over some inches so Whisperain can get in close. "Ya sure you don't need these for a patient, Miss?"

"No," Whisperain affirms, softly but adamantly. "The sick should not be made to feel that their treatment comes hand in hand with disrespect—it would crush anyone to be taught that. There are other options in any scenario…" As she speaks, one mitten is affixed, buttoned and tested for a tight fit in moderation, followed by the other. "I assume you're familiar with these in a… recreational setting, Miss Kafka."

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Kafka gives an experimental flex of the fingers, free with a full range of motion inside the mittens but unable to project any grasp through the containment. "Saw 'em in a club once. Anyways, Kafka's happy to report she cannot get her funny li'l hands out."

"Oh, good…" Seems that's a genuine relief to Whisperain. "Well, then, Miss Robin, if you would care to test her?"

"Test? Her? Oh, uh, huh. Guess I could." It's kinda funny to watch Robin hop from confusion to conviction in the span of a few seconds.

Wait, that's not conviction Kafka likes. "Hands offa me."

"The whole freaking point was keeping my hands on you," Robin grumbles, quickly pushing her down by the mitts—okay, shoot, these stupid things are ACTUALLY restraining Kafka and the wrist's way too sturdy to pop the button. She's not getting her hands back in any good way here.

Whatever, still got the entire rest of her body! Kafka kicks and writhes and attempts a headbutt or two, tosses to and fro and even tries bouncing up on her momentum, then has to catch her breath a moment. She's quickly discovering this lockdown on her wrists is giving her no real freedom to bend any which way. Seriously, is two points pinned all Robin needs to get someone this bad?

"Quit… enjoyin' this!" Kafka's beginning to get irate herself. There's a crooked smirk growing on Robin's face, subtle, but it's there and it stinks of satisfaction. "Man, I woulda tried suckin' up to you tonight if I knew you were gonna get this vengeful!"

"Literally, I'm not doing anything, Kafka. You wanna just give up?"

"Aw, screw you and your bodyguard training!" Kafka wriggles a little more, but mittens down against the mattress and options gone, the best she's got is sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry.

"…"

A few silent seconds later, Robin sticks out her tongue back. "Okay, NOW I've got it out of my system. Thanks, Miss Whisperain," she says to the nice lady, clambering off.

"Of course. Are you alright, Miss Kafka?"

"Ugh." Kafka sits up mostly steady, although she feels like she almost has to dig her mitts out of Whisperain's bed. "Right as rain. Gonna be honest, that was intense, but I'm ready to get outta these already. We gonna put a thing on Robin next?"

"I imagine if we were taking turns, then it would be hers now," Whisperain chuckles.

"Oh, come on! …Okay, I guess fair's fair."

#BDSMKinktober #arknights

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sleepdeprivedsimp234 · 10 months

Note

Hello again, lovely!! 💙💙

I’m preparing to shove Gov and the States through the wringer (lots of self-sacrifice and tears, idk Gov just keeps jumping in front of anything presenting any form of danger to the States) so I need some dopamine to cope:

Last time Gov comforted the States, but do you think any of the States would protect Gov? (He’s a self-sacrificing idiot, could be missing two limbs, half his skull shattered and disemboweled and still trying to work smh) I just think the man deserves a break, even if he’s torn-to-pieces in the lead-up to said ‘break’ (most likely forced because he will still try to work tbh)

~💙💙💙

Hiiii!!! And yes I agree, Gov needs a break. A long one too. So why get the most assertive of the Main 6 to get him to take a break: Louisiana (haha I love him too much lmao-)

=====================

(This may or may not have some Gov/Loui 👀)

=====================

It was around 10pm when Gov snapped back awake due to hearing a teleportation chime. He turned around to see Louisiana standing behind him. He noticed that Loui wasn't in his normal attire (he had exchanged it for a black cropped hoodie, and Gov definitely wasn't blushing lmao), and he didn't have Florida with him. Which was oddly suspicious.

"What do you want, Mags?" Gov sighed.

"I came to check on ya. Also to tell you that I'm taking you on a walk in Baton Rouge. To y'know, have a break." Responded Loui with the smile that the Main 6 (and me 👀) adored so much.

"Listen, Honey, I would love to, but I'm very busy right now." Gov said, gently cupping the smaller's face in his hands.

"I know, but I think ya can take a break. You've been workin' all day for the past 4 days, and I'll bet you haven't slept either. Loui said, walking over to Gov's closet and pulling out a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck. 'Is this really all he has in terms of casual clothes- me and Yorkie really need to take im' clothes shopping at some point.' Loui thought to himself before tossing the clothes at Gov, who just barely caught them. He walked over to Gov and stood up on his tippy-toes to give him a peck on the lips before sitting down on Gov's bed. "Go change Cher. I'll be waiting here."

Gov just blushed brightly and just went to his bathroom to change with no questions asked (hehehe SIMP-).

A few minutes later, Gov walked out of the bathroom wearing the clothes that Loui had thrown at him. Loui looked up from his phone and smiled a bit before walking over and grabbing the taller's hand.

"Ya ready?" he asked. He waited until Gov nodded yes to teleport to the busy streets of Baton Rouge.

Gov looked around with nothing but pure amazement in his eyes. "Wow... It's beautiful...."

Louisiana chuckled a bit. "Yea... It ain't no Dallas, L.A, Miami, or NYC, but it sure is somethin'." He said with a bright, fond smile. "Now I'm gonna bet you haven't eaten anything all day, so I'm gonna take you to one of my favorite bars so we can getcha somethin'."

Gov didn't bother arguing, cuz he knew it was no use. He was absolutely WHIPPED for his boyfriend. He allowed himself to get dragged to a rather nice looking bar around ten minutes from where they had landed. As they entered, he noticed how Loui seemed to know every worker there. After a bit of looking around, he nearly ran into Loui, who had stopped at the counter where there was a bartender.

"Ah Loui, good to see ya again!! Who's yer little friend here?" she said with a friendly smile as she shook Loui's hand.

"Hey Chels! Nice to see ya too sha. This here is ma boyfriend, Gabriel." He said, returning the handshake and smile. He elbowed Gov, and gave him the look that said 'say hello'.

"Hello." Gov said with the friendliest smile he could muster.

"Hey Gabe, you can call me Chelsi. I'm assuming y'all are gonna want the regular, Lou?" She asked, turning to Louisiana.

"Yup. Thanks sha."

"No problem!! Go find yourselves a table and I'll be around in a lil bit."

"Aight." Loui said, shaking her hand once more before dragging Gov to a table somewhere in the back of the bar.

"So um... You seem to be a regular here." Gov said, trying to make small talk with the smaller state.

"Yup, I come ere' every other day, and trust me, aint nobody here gonna bite ya, they're all very nice." Answered the Pelican State.

"I wasn't really worried about that Mags." Gov said.

"Yea okay sha- you were literally shakin' with anxiety when we walked in here and you were lookin' at everybody like they were gonna bite ya."

"Well what if-"

"And don't bother sayin' that it was because ya were cold, cuz it's 80°F AND humid outside."

"I- fine. Whatever." Gov said, pouting ever so slightly.

"Good boy." Loui teased, smirking when Gov started blushing again. He looked up when he saw Chelsi standing there with their food. Now it was his turn to blush.

"Pfft- y'all are real cute together. Here's yer order, have a great night y'all." She said before walking back behind the bar where she worked.

The two personifications sat and ate for about fifteen minutes before about 4 or 5 tall guys walked up to their table.

"Can we help ya?" Loui said, keeping up his friendly smile and tone of voice.

"Well you most definitely can, cutie~" said one of the guys (he looked like he might be the leader of em all) as he seductively leaned on the wall next to Loui.

Loui looked like he was trying his hardest to not tell this guy to f*ck off. But still, he kept up his friendly attitude. "Ehhh- sorry not interested man."

"C'mon~ Why not?~"

Loui was starting to get a bit uncomfortable and his friendliness was starting to disappear slightly. "Like I said, I'm not interested. Now, please leave us alone."

"Y'know, funny thing is, I don't remember it being a question, pretty boy~" said the guy as he wrapped an arm around Loui's waist.

Okay- Gov's gonna intervene now. He stood up and said "H-hey... Guy, he said he wasn't interested. Now leave. And don't put your hands on him."

The guy that had his arm wrapped around Loui glared at Gov before walking up to him and grabbing him by the front of the shirt and pinning him against the wall. "What're ya gonna do bout' it huh?"

"I-I-I-" Gov started to say before he noticed that Loui's eyes were glowing a bright red. Well sh*t.

Suddenly, Loui jumped up from his seat and grabbed the guy that was pinning Gov against the wall and threw him head-first at an unoccupied table. He smirked when the other 4 decided to attack him. Good, more blood~

Gov watched as Loui proceeded to beat the living sh*t out of the other four guys. He flipped and broke one's arm, he knocked another out completely by smacking his head on his knee, and the other two also received a few kicks and punches before running away like absolute cowards.

Loui laughed a bit to himself, satisfied with his work. He turned back to Gov, who was staring at him with a wide-eyed amazed expression. He wrapped an arm around Gov's shoulders and pecked him on the cheek before teleporting them out of there while the people were distracted.

Gov wrapped his hands around Loui's waist and kissed him on the lips, Loui returning it. The two kissed for a solid five minutes before finally pulling apart, but still not taking their hands off each other.

"Where the hell did you learn to fight lie that??" Gov asked, still amazed.

Loui looked confused for a second before catching on. "O-oh hehehe uh... Well, ya don't live this long and learn nothin' sha. Especially when ya live in da hood. I guess that being friends with Texas, York and Mass helps ya learn a few things as well. Plus- I wasn't bouta let ya get beat up back there, sha."

"Mhm you are indeed my little knight in shining armour huh?" Gov teased slightly, bringing Loui in for a tight hug and nuzzling the top of his hair. Loui returned the hug, burying his face in the taller's chest.

"Yup I am sha."

#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard #wttt #wttt louisiana #wttt gov #wttt shipping #gov/loui is life #hope this was alright!!

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copiousloverofcopia · 2 years

Note

Bear with me.... Terzo trying to get a little somethin'-somethin', but Alé has no time for his BS as he's already running late for leading black mass, so she leaves him high and dry. Later leading to Papa Terzo giving an unholy sermon, with his Prime Mover distracting him with those 'fuck me' eyes from the front pews (maybe while trying to deal with his sweet, yet unruly semen demons). Mass ends, almost everyone leaves, Alé sticks around to give her Papa a *hard* time. Maybe a blowjob at the pulpit ensues. And it ends with a facial. And obviously Alé deserves a reward, too for putting up with (basically) three children and keeping her mess of a Papa in line.

Ask and you shall receive... Although it may take me a while to get to it 😅😅😅

Anyways ghestie, I changed it up just a little bit but I think you'll still like it.

Practice What You Preach

Also available here on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

Commissions are still open, Please pinned post for carrd details.

It was promising to be a very long day. Alé struggling to get everything ready before her family was expected down at, a rare morning, Black Mass. She wanted desperately for the day to go well. Already tired and stressed out, waiting patiently as she went about her to-dos before the inevitable discussion with her beloved Papa. A Papa who still had yet to emerge from the bedroom.

She got herself dressed, wearing the lace black dress she knew Terzo loved. Throwing on her favorite pumps and fixing her hair down for the first time in weeks. Alessandra putting in her new pair of Grucifix earrings, a gift from Primo for her birthday. She was finally ready.

She moved on to the kids. Both Dante and Mena watching Ruby Gloom on the TV in the parlor, while Alé gathered up their dress clothes. She brought them in the room, setting the pile down on the black leather sofa beside her children. As she went to dress them, she noticed a missing a sock. Alé returned to the bedroom, where she had last been with the clothes. Terzo still laying there in bed, now watching intently.

He was stretched out lazily on his side, his head resting in his hand as he made no effort to move. Still in his boxers with a face unpainted as Alé drove herself crazy looking for Dante's black sock. Terzo felt himself swell beneath the silk of his boxers, his eyes crawling over his Prime Mover's body as she bent down searching for it. The curve of her ass, irresistible to him as he reached out to grab it while she'd been bent down looking along the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Alé sighed, realizing only after she spoke, that she knew exactly what he was doing.

"Cara, my cock is so hard just looking at you. I need you…please." Terzo whined, palming over the obvious swell of fabric in front of him.

"We are already running behind and your face isn't painted…you think we have time for sex?" She chided, grabbing the wayward sock and attempting to leave. Terzo wouldn't give up that easily, grabbing her arm and pulling over. Alé landing on top of him in the bed.

"I said no, we've got things to do and YOU are giving the sermon today…or did you forget?" Alessandra reminded him. She seemed on edge today, more so than normal and he wondered what was wrong.

"Amore, Is everything all right?" Terzo asked, conceding to her request, now concerned at her upset.

"Everything's fine. Now get your butt up, get dressed, paint your face, and get downstairs. Literally everyone is waiting on you." She ordered. Alessandra left without another word, gathered up the children, and headed downstairs leaving a very uncomfortable Papa behind.

The whole of the Abbey sat in wait. The sun, burning brightly from outside. Bathing the congregation in a rainbow of colors from the stained glass windows. Alessandra sat in the front pew, as she always did, Mena and Dante unable to sit still as the double doors of the chapel came flying open. Terzo entered, flowing through them—god-like and majestic. The crowd oohing and ahhing over him as he made his way to the pulpit—only mildly late.

Well she was still a bit angry, Alessandra couldn't help but stare. He always looks so amazing in his deep black and rich purple robes. His miter worn proudly on his head as he bowed in reverence to the current and past papas that sat beside him in the sanctuary. He was always so commanding, handsome, and regal—traits that especially now, Alessandra found absolutely irresistible. Shifting in her seat as she began silently regretting not taking him up on his offer.

"Brothers and Sisters of Sin. Today I speak to you in reverence for the sin of lust. The most cherished of sins. The sin that brings us together as one. One before him, before our unholy god—Lucifer almighty. The sin that helps us grow in number. Being fruitful and spreading like a fire across the vastness of the world. It is in lust that we find the deepest pleasures the world has to offer us…" Terzo spoke, his eyes meeting over and over with Alé's. She batted her lashes at him, Staring up at him with those gorgeous green and gold eyes. Terzo stammering a bit in his sermon. Unable to stay focused, distracted by how much they shimmered in the sunlight as he stared down at his Prime Mover from the pulpit.

He tried to maintain his composure through the rest of sermon. Pulling at his collar as he felt himself getting uncomfortably heated, watching as Alé continued gazing at him from the front pew. He watched as she managed to keep the children in check, Dante held as still as possible, however still bouncing around on her lap. Their eldest Mena, swinging her legs around as Alessandra gently reminded her to settle herself as her father was speaking.

Terzo couldn't help but be entranced by her beauty. The fire of his heart and soul. The mother of his children, with those gorgeous eyes staring up at him. Eyes he longed to see his reflection in as she drove her to heights of passion and lust. She was his equal in all things, the two of them made for eachother like the pieces of a puzzle. The picture they made together breathtaking and true.

Terzo spent the whole Mass longing for her, His gloved hands gripped tightly into the edge of the old wood pulpit. He felt the ache growing. His cock stiffened against his pants once again, concealed only by the fabric of his chasuble. He could tell she was feeling it too. The tell-tale eyebrow perk and a wink from the crowd, sending hellfire straight through him. He needed her, and now.

The sermon had ended, rather abruptly. Terzo barely containing his hunger for his beloved Alessandra. Terzo remained in the pulpit, choosing to forgo an accident revealing his need to the masses. As the crowd cleared out, Alessandra motioned for Primo to take Mena and Dante’s hands. The gentle old man leading the children out for a bit so that she may stay behind.

Alé watched as Primo closed the doors up behind him. The Papa and his Prime Mover alone, once more. Alessandra turned to see her husband beginning to descend from the pulpit. “Wait! I will come to you.” she called up to him, Terzo confused but doing as he was told.

Alessandra made her way up the small set of carpeted stairs to the landing. As she approached him, she watched as his eyes grew with more passion and need. Terzo, biting his lower lip as Alé dropped to her knees before him. “Ale, what are you—?”

“Shut up Papa and give me communion.” she purred, Terzo’s mouth falling open with her words.

“Sí cara, I will give you unholy Euchrist if that is what you wish.” he moaned, fumbling over himself to unzip his pants. Alé ran her fingers up his legs, squeezing in on his ass as he revealed his cock to her–hard and throbbing.

“Mmm…I see we are still excited from this morning.” she hummed, licking the drop of precum that had begun to collect on the tip. Terzo’s head fell back as he lifted his chasuble to watch his cock sliding in and out of her mouth.

“Ah!” Terzo moaned, sucking in air through his teeth, Alé gliding her tongue around and pressing hard against the bottom of his shaft. Taking him deep inside her mouth. “Ah…fuck Alé…you know how much I need you, need to be inside you.” Terzo whined, his fist full of Alé’s wavy black hair, more lucious and full than he remembered. The sounds she was making as she bobbed her head onto his cock, sent heat throughout his body. Her mouth firmly around him as she swallowed him back. Slurping and sucking, working him with her mouth and hand in tandem, leaving not an inch left untouched.

Terzo pulled his gloves off with his teeth, Alé continuing to suck on his cock as he tried desperately not to cum. Ultimately he was unable to hold back. As Alé’s tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, a sensitive spot just above the base, her hard, rhythmic sucking made him release. Alessandra moaned against him, the hot cum flooding into the back of her throat. Alé, continuing to move her head until he had completely finished.

She swallowed the mouth full of Terzo’s cum and wiped her lips clean, continent to leave things at that. But before she could adjust herself, Terzo had her lifted up. The former Papa hiking her leg up over his arm and tearing off her panties from under her dress. His dexterous fingers finding their way into her dripping folds. Alé let out a gasp, Terzo beginning to pump himself in and out of her as she mindlessly rutted against his hand.

“Did you really think I’d let you leave this place without you dripping with my cum. That I would allow my Prime Mover to be left unsatisfied, having not been filled by me as Lucifer himself intended.”

“Oh Terzo, make me cum for you. I wanna cry out to Lucifer, reveling our blessed sin.” Alé moaned, feeling Terzo’s fingers slipping firmly against her flesh. Her pussy, so wet and pulsing with his touch. She was even more excited than usual, Terzo relishing every second of it as he pushed his fingers now through her entrance, gathering up more of her slick before returning to rub along the bud of her clit. Alé held tight to his shoulders, her nails fraying the threads of his chasuble a bit as she moaned and cried.

Terzo juggled between pumping his two fingers inside her and rubbing her clit at just the right spot. He felt her legs begin to quiver against him, her breathing shallow and rough as she rolled her cunt on his hand.

“Ah amore, cum for me. I know you want to. I want so you fucking wet when I take you.” Terzo growled, using his thumb to gently rub against her clit as he stimulated her entrance with his fingertips.

“Oh Lucifer Terzo im cumming!” Alé cried out, Terzo feeling her inner walls squeeze him. Fluid bursting out from inside her, running down and along Terzo’s wrist as he gently pulled his fingers from her.

“Mmm… Alessandra you are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted." He commented, sucking his fingers clean of her. Terzo hummed, Alé dropped her eyes as he gestured for her to look down as his rehardened cock. “Let me fuck you. I want that cum all over me.” Terzo groaned, bringing his mouth to her neck. He gently nipped the delicate skin there, before sinking his teeth into her. Alé practically fell limp with his touch, the sweet pleasure and pain from his bite, and her recent orgasm, coursing through her.

"I want you, fill me. Make me yours." She begged, Terzo grunting and panting as he stroked his cock.

“Oh I will absolutely fill you cara, there is nothing I want more." Terzo growled as he pulled off his chasuble. Tossing the ornate garment to the side like it was nothing but a rag that was in his way. He leaned Alé over the edge of the pulpit, ready to fuck her cunt from behind. The two of them, gathering up her dress and tucking it in front of her as Terzo prepared fuck her.

Alé stared out over the pews, the smell of the incense still lingering in the air as she felt Terzo adjusting her hips, widening her stance. "Ah..mmmm." Alessandra moaned as she felt Terzo teasing her entrance with the head of his cock.

“Lift up Alé. I want to be able to reach deep inside you.” He groaned, now running his cock through the cum still leaking from within her. Alé let out a moan, rutting against him trying to slip him inside her. Curving up her pelvis toward him. Terzo placed his hands on her hips, rubbing his fingers across the swell of her ass as he pushed his cock deep inside her.

As he did, their mouths hung open. Both moaning in pleasure as Terzo got fully seated inside. Alé’s cunt, tugging tightly on him as he thrusted inside her. His hands gripped tightly to her hips as Alé held onto the ledge.

Terzo felt the sweat pooling in the small of back. Drenching his vestments in it as he worked to make his Prime Mover cum once again. "Oh Terzo, harder, harder! I'm so close!" Alé cried out, Terzo feeling her body tightening around him inside. He pounded hard inside her, feeling himself begin to give way as his hips met against her ass with each thrust. Alé bring her fingers down to gently rub her clit.

"Ah Alé, I love you. Cum for me cara! I'm cumming for you!" Terzo cried, cumming deep in the back of her cunt. His fingers gripped so to Alé's hips, she was sure to be left bruised. Alé too let go, her body swelling around him inside and cumming hard on him as he moved inside her. It was blissful and hot, as he filled her with ropes of cum. The two of them sweaty, satisfied, and positively dripping in eachothers fluids.

The two of them has slumped down against the wall of the pulpit, both breathless but wholly satisfied. Maybe an hour had passed since their endeavor and they were both still too exhausted to move. Terzo took Alé’s hand in his, bringing to his lips to kiss it. A surprisingly gentle gesture after the animalistic way he had just fucked her. Alessandra nuzzled up against his chest, breathing in the scent of His cologne.

Terzo kissed the top of her head. The mess of hair on both their heads a sure giveaway to onlookers as to what they've been doing. Neither of them cared, basking in each other's company and the quiet of the chapel. "Hmm…" Alé sighed, content in her husband's arms.

Terzo looked down at her. Her eyes shut as she lay against his chest. She glowed, her beauty even more apparent in her post orgasmic state. Terzo felt as if he'd fallen in love all over again and there was something about her now that made him unable to hold back on telling her so.

"I absolutely love you, you know that? I love you each day, more than I did the last." Terzo whispered against the crown of Alé's head. She sat up a bit, turning her head to face up at her starry eyed Papa, who looked back deep into her eyes.

“What…what's that for?” she giggled, Terzo pulling her closer against his chest once more.

“I just do. There is no one I would rather spend my life with than you." He said, sniffling back just a bit.

"Oh Terz. I love you too, so very much. I can't imagine my life without you. We've come so far…I would never go back." Alé smiled, her mind flashing images of their past. Their love blossoming from absolute chaos into even more chaos—beautiful chaos.

"Me either cara, but I...I also wanted to apologize for this morning." He began.

"Oh?"

"I saw you struggling with and I was too caught up in my own needs. I didn't think about yours and I'm sorry." He admitted.

"It's ok–"

"No it isnt. I will do better. I know you do so much amore and I want you to know that I appreciate you. I couldn’t do this…any of this without you.” Terzo confessed.

“You mean the kids?” Alé laughed, Terzo’s face growing more serious, his eyes filling with tears. The two of them got quiet a moment, Aléssandra wondering if maybe she should wait to talk with him after all.

“Yes they are a handful. That is for sure, but I mean with everything. You are my world. I know that it's hard on you, especially since I know like I said, I'm not the best at helping. I am sure at times you must feel like you have three children, instead of two.” Terzo laughed. Aléssandra smiled wide, her own eyes now beginning to shine with the gloss of tears.

“Four.”

“What?” Terzo asked, confused at what she had just said.

“Four children, it would feel like I had four.” Alé smiled. Terzo knew exactly what she was trying to say.

“Cara mia? Alé are you sure. You’re?” He asked her, unable to fully get out the words.

“Very. Omega told me this morning, but honestly I already suspected.” His Prime Mover smiled, revealing she was now several weeks into her third pregnancy. Terzo beamed ear to ear, his eyes widening and his heart once again racing within his chest.

“Oh Alé, non c'è da stupirsi che tu sia così irresistibile oggi. Sai che non riesco a controllarmi quando sei incinta.” Terzo cried, wrapping her tight in his arms and crying into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Alé cried too, her arms squeezing tightly around him as he wept.

“Seems you practice what you preach.” Alé chuckled.

"Seems so…and I wouldn't have it any other way." Terzo said, both of them laughing together—a new Emeritus child on its way.

Notes:

Oh Alé, non c'è da stupirsi che tu sia così irresistibile oggi. Sai che non riesco a controllarmi quando sei incinta.- Oh Alé, no wonder you are so irresistible today. You know I can't control myself when you're pregnant.

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