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kedreeva · 2 years

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Hi! I've seen all your lovely posts about your mice and I was wondering if you could help me?

I recently came into possession (they were dumped on me, yay! 🙃) of two baby male mice (both from the same litter), and while I've kept females before, I've never had males.

I've seen online that male mice can sometimes fight as they mature, even litter mates that can't see/smell females, and I'm a bit worried. Do you have any advice about how to avoid them falling out? Or is it just one of those things that might happen?

I'm also unsure of what the best option is when it comes to cage size. I have a smaller cage that's 55x39x29cm and a larger one that's 100x50x37cm. I know that bigger is considered better with most rodents, but again, I'm new to male mice, and I don't know if the larger cage might leave them feeling too exposed?

Thanks

I think a lot of people who raise only a small number of mice don't learn the difference between dominance scuffling and actual fighting, or how to tell if a mouse is actually stressed vs just experiencing an acute stress.

Male mice and even some female mice, will scuffle if a cage is ever completely cleaned. A lot of their social hierarchy is determined by scent and when you eliminate all of the scent from the environment, you wreak havoc on whatever social situation they've established and it must be re-established. This can seem like fighting! It can involve loud squeaking, physical scuffling, chasing, etc. However, social hierarchy scuffles should only last for a day or less. They do not typically draw blood. There shouldn't be tail rattling (no pet mouse should ever be a rattler, any ethical breeder will immediately cull a rattler). If all they are doing is squeaking, chasing, and tumbling about, it will calm down once they have figured out who is boss hog and who isn't, and be fine. Many people freak out about any scuffle and immediately separate because they think it's aggression or actual fighting and then they tell everyone else that male mice always fight. They don't. They can! But if they've been raised together and kept without females, the chance is pretty low.

If it lasts longer than a day or two, if blood is drawn (particularly if it's in more than one spot, or at genital locations, or on the fronts of their forelimbs), if they're popping and then freezing (as opposed to popping and then running about), if they are rattling their tail, that's aggression, not social drama. Those males must be separated, as they will almost certainly fight to the death if left together, and it can happen very quickly because aggressor males are relentless.

The other factor here is stress. Stressed mice are more prone to fighting, and even if they aren't fighting, having perpetually stressed mice is bad (it sometimes cannot be helped. Some mice stress about captivity regardless of any conditions which any ethical breeder should be paying attention to and culling/selecting to eliminate, in order to produce mice that are relaxed in a domestic setting). Heavily urine-soaked equipment is a sign of stress (and despite what some people will tell you it's not normal, they will tell you it's just males marking everything... It's not. If they're marking like this, it's because they're stressed. I work with thousands of mice daily and only some of the males do this, and it's always the ones showing other stress signs too, MOST of the male cages are not urine soaked). Food being chewed into dust. Popping and freezing. Tail rattling can also be a sign of acute stress. Frantic, twitchy motion. Poor coat quality, both in scruffy, dull coats but also over grooming. Sometimes this is just temperament from poor breeding, sometimes it's an environmental factor. This is where enclosure size and equipment can feature.

The "bigger is better" is only sort of true for mice. Most mice don't stress in a small cage as long as they have fresh food and water and a warm nest. That's the life! They have everything they need, they feel safe, they aren't stressing about having enough to eat or where to find water. They are simple prey creatures content to sleep and eat and be safe. Extra enrichment, like wheels, scent enrichment, various chews, climbing devices, alternating hides, treats, etc are all good too!

But what happens when most people increase enclosure size is that they don't also proportionally increase a) hides b) food sources c) water sources. So what you end up with is an enclosure where there's open space (bad, scary, stressful) that they have to cross to get to the one food or water source that may be far from their preferred nest. You can keep a mouse or mice in an enclosure the size of a house, provided you can cram it full of hides/equipment and provide enough feed and water locations that they feel as safe as they did in a cage the size of a shoebox. But people don't, so large enclosures end up being stressful as hell. Either of your enclosure sizes would work fine for your mice, it's just a matter of how much stuff you're going to put in. However much you think is enough when you set it up, add several more things. Then add some more.

As for what you can do, again the biggest factor with mice is scent. Never clean all the equipment at the same time. Never change all the bedding at the same time. If you need to clean the actual cage, pull most of the bedding into a bag, clean the cage itself, and put the bedding back. You can change the bedding a different day. Pick yourself up some ZuPreem fruitblend pellets to scatter around the cage as a forage treat after cage changes; they will be busy looking for those long enough they will often forget to even scuffle. You can get some dried lavender to put in the cage, there was a study done that suggested it has a calming effect, and even if it doesn't, it's good enrichment. Watch for signs of stress, and be prepared to separate if necessary, because you don't know their history or if their breeder cared about anything, but honestly it should be alright.

#mice #asks #anon asks #make yourself a wire feeder!#they're easy to make with some half inch hardware cloth #use a block chow #it seems boring but it's the best thing for them #I've helped a few local breeders switch to block chow #because they see my mice or back when i did rats saw my rats #and wanted to know how i got such nice fur #it's because block chows don't give them a chance to pick out only what they like #so they get complete nutrition

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starshipsofstarlord · 8 months

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Prisoner

Summary-> (Early season 3 based) Winter had been a long journey for all of your group, especially you and Daryl given that there was always a lack of privacy. You find it difficult to feel at home in the prison, but Daryl is always there for you when you need him, and you have the chance to relish in a night alone - or as lonesome as a cell can be (2.9k)

Warnings-> 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, established relationship, mentions of arrest and imprisonment, swearing

daryl dixon // norman reedus works masterlist

It was an adjustment, that much was clear. After having been locked up in a prison for a few years, the last place you had wanted to be was in one, but here you and your group were, in a cell block after having cleared it out.

Your knee bounced as you sat upon the steps, gnawing upon lip, staring at the familiar grey walls that brought bad memories back into your mind. It wasn’t something you wanted to voice as a problem, you’d spent all winter out on the road, enduring the cold nights, you should have been grateful like everyone else was.

“Y’ okay?” Daryl asked as he took a seat beside you, brushing his shoulders with your own with a comforting manner, reading with no doubt that something was bothering you. Most of the day you preferred to be outside, killing the walkers that clawed at the fences, and you jumped at the chance to go out on a run for supplies just to get out of this pit of misery.

“I’m fine. Just need a distraction from all of this.” You gestured around you, sending him a small smile, feeling far too conscious to even think about falling asleep. “I know it should be good that we’ve found somewhere, and it is, don’t get me wrong, but-“

“I know.” He told you, nodding in understanding, before he put his large hand over your smaller one, clasping it in his grip and bringing it up to his lips. “Don’t have to like it, none of us do, but we woulda died if we hadn’t found this place. And that’s the last thing that I wan’ to happen to ya. I’m grateful for everything you did, ya know.”

“I know Dare.” You decided to look at him rather than the tin you were sat in, meeting his softened blue eyes. “Think if I saw Merle again I’d kick his ass for abandoning me on that night which cost me months in the normal world with you.” He grunted in agreement, smiling when remembering that you had found their camp, and you’d done just that to his older brother.

“Ya got out, that’s all that matters. Especially before all this and the world goin to shit.” The thought of you trapped in somewhere like this and most likely being turned into walker chow or one of them had his heart bursting at the seams. It was a vulgar thought, and the last thing that he ever wanted to happen to you. He wanted to protect you, and he should have done that before, but he was petrified, and you were too stubborn and claimed that you had to pay for your mistakes.

He’d come to see you a few times when you were locked away, he hated that a panel of glass separated the both of you, all he had wanted to do was run his fingers through your hair and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t, so instead he counted the days and hours until your release, he had this whole idea of collecting you from that place and driving you far away.

But your release day had been the same day that the entire planet was engulfed with the spreading news of a disease that turned people into monsters, and Merle wouldn’t let him go to see if you had made your sanctioned escape. He had no idea whether you were still alive until he saw Shane carrying you into the camp, exhausted from the lack of both food and fluids and running god knows how many miles just to survive.

“Guess you’re right.” He always was, even if he was too selfless to admit it. “Do you maybe want to try sleeping in a cell? I know we’ve got this whole thing of liking the floor, but I guess it’s worth a try.” Daryl surprising agreed, pulling you to your feet after he had stood, the two of you walking to an empty cell, passing by the other members of your group that were either asleep or lying down in isolation.

It was a big step for you to enter a cell after the months you had been holed up in one by the law, but Daryl kept his hand on your elbow, reminding you that he was there. And always would be. And so unsurely, despite it being your idea, you stepped within the cell, it was devoid of any personality, just a bunk and the normal silver basin and toilet, which all reminded you that this wasn’t home. You hoped that one day you’d find somewhere that felt less suffocating, there had to be a place out there, beyond the chain fence, where it was safe to breathe without the risk of walkers eating you in your sleep.

As you entered the room, you were strangely comforted by the sound of Glenn’s snoring from the cell over, he was no doubt laying beside Maggie, then both lulling in the chance to rest. “It’s not so bad.” You muttered, kicking off your mud accented boots, as Daryl remained close to the door, blocking the view from anyone that could pass as you shrugged out of your jeans, and lifted your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your underwear. It was something that you hadn’t been able to do in prison without the harassment of officers or other people fulfilling their sentences.

Daryl said nothing as you stood still for a moment, closing your eyes, before you reached back, unclipping your bra, his eyes danced over the expanse of your back, every scar traced by his pupils and every mole a target that he planned to pelt with gentle kisses. You turned around to face him, like a vixen testing his limits, tilting your head as you padded along the floor towards him, your fingers brushing against his sleeve butchered flannel. “I want your shirt.”

There was no resistance on his part as he helped you unbutton each button on it, shrugging it off of his broad shoulders as he handed it to you, watching you slip it on. You inhaled his scent as you did only a couple of the buttons on it, before testing the mattress with your hand on the bottom bunk, before sliding upon it and closing your eyes. “Aren’t you going to join me?” He said nothing as he silently kicked off his own boots, tossing the knives he carried out from his pockets onto the floor, them deliciously clattering upon the cement, as he readied himself to lay beside you.

“It’s been a long time since we had a bed.” Daryl spoke in hushed volume, not counting the time on Herschel’s farm after he had been scathed by a bullet in the left side of his head, no thanks to Andrea. He shuffled as he tried to get comfortable, deciding on laying on his side and facing you, trapping you in his arms as his nose brushed against your own. “At least it’s better than that one you had in your shitty old trailer.” He smirked, watching as you tapped his shoulder with your screwed up fist, rolling your eyes when you remembered why it hadn’t been so comfortable.

“It was perfect, we broke it in. Not my fault that the springs couldn’t hold up.” He shook his head at your words, clearly that sale you had got it from had been a scam, but you had insisted that it was better than sleeping on the floor. Truth be told, Daryl didn’t care where he slept, as long as he had you securely beside him, he never wanted you to be taken away from him again, and he was insistent that he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“I think you’re the one tha’ couldn’t hold up. Or be quiet.” He remarked, causing a scoff to pass from your lips, as you attempted to turn away from him but he wouldn’t allow you. Instead his grip on you got tighter, as he raised a brow at your actions. “But if yar blamin’ it on the damn mattress, we migh’ as well see if this one is any better.” It wasn’t very often that Daryl would smirk, but when he did, you practically melted in a puddle in front of him and forgot where you were, which in this instance, was a blessing. His hand trailed down your sternum that was exposed by your lousy buttoning of his shirt that you wore, descending dangerously lower, so that his fingertip hit the top band of your panties.

Your breath hitched, as your body became almost immobile, frozen from his more that welcomed touch. He teased you, running his hand hand back to your stomach only to trail it back down to where his destination had been. “Damn it Daryl, do something.” You hissed, careful to keep your voice down. “I swear to- oh.” His hand had slipped into your underwear, rubbing against the outside of your cunt, causing your hips to jut up into his touch. He always knew how to make you sufficiently aggravated, you’d have cursed out from the bubbling annoyance in your chest if you had no worries that anybody could hear the two of you.

With that he slipped a finger into your walls, it felt like it had been a long time since the two of you had an opportunity to be physical. All through winter, after losing the farm to the mass of endless walkers, you’d had sex once out in the woods, when you were supposed to be hunting, and because of your lack of action you felt touch starved. Even despite Daryl proceeding to hold your hand when the pair of you rarely walked at the back of the group, and sleeping side by side with him. It just hadn’t been enough, but for now these taunting walls allowed you some release, ironically enough.

“Yer so fuckin’ tight.” Daryl muttered, kissing up your stomach all the way up to your lips, ushering and drinking your whimpers that threatened to escape. “Woulda fucked ya more if I’d had the chance baby, now I’m really gonna have to stretch ya out before I can put my cock in ya.” You could only moan into his mouth, hands clasping around his wrist as you ground yourself down on his hand, you let out a squeal as he unexpectedly entered another finger, alarmed by the welcomed intrusion, however Daryl stopped all movements. He spoke quietly to himself, eyes dancing around with a scheming glimmer in his eyes, as an idea revelled in his mind.

He yanked a pillow out from beneath your head, causing you to pant as you clenched desperately around his fingers, trying to allure him into continuing. Daryl raised your hips, fingers still in you, as he placed the pillow beneath them, your mouth making an O shape as he hit a new angle inside of you. If you hadn’t been in a prison, knowing that it was your worst nightmare, he would have calmed your sounds by placing the pillow over your head, but he knew where the line was drawn and he was never one to cross it if he was aware of your discomfort. “Good girl.” He drawled out, deciding to fasten the pace of his fingers as a wet spot began to leak onto your panties, he swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as he watched you. You were close, and it had come faster than expected, given how many months it had been.

“More.” You pleaded, wanting his cock, no matter how much it hurt when he stretched you out, but instead you were given another finger, and Daryl grunted as he rutted into the bed. “Dare, need you.” You huffed, feeling empty when he removed his fingers. The time dragged as he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his jeans, and finally he clambered on top of you, his naked form teasing every nerve in your entire body. “If you need me so bad, why don’ ya ride me?” He whispered, rolling the both of you over so that you were atop of him. You leant down, your hair falling in a cascade around both of your faces as you pressed your lips against his, sliding your cunt over his cock.

He was frighteningly hard, it had been months since the both of you had gotten this far, and there were no interceptions that could stop you this time, or so you hoped. Your slick coated his length as you ground yourself on him to fulfil your own insatiable drive of hunger, his hands bruising your hips as he attempted to keep you still so he could slip inside of you from beneath your trembling form. His tip grazed your clit, sending you into a frenzy, you couldn’t wait a second longer you mindlessly decided, grasping his erect cock in your hand to hold it still, as you slid him inside of you. It was an ethereal feeling, the two of you relished in the sensation of being so close, and not just emotionally.

Daryl’s head reached up, pulling you down flush on top of him, as he spread an array of butterfly kisses over your collarbones and the middle of your throat. “I love ya girl, you drive me absolutely crazy, but yar my kinda crazy.” He stroked your hair lovingly out of your face, distracting you from how he raised both of the weights of the lower halves of your bodies up, and before you could respond with your own spoken words of love to him, he began to thrust up into you, making the world around you drown into nothing more than a distant memory. Your breathing was messy as it mixed with your partner’s, you sturdied one hand on the pillow beneath his head, the other long discarded to the floor, as your opposite braced itself on the wall, clawing at the impenetrable surface.

“Fuck Dare.” Tears were glazing your eyes as you felt each vein of his cock within your cunt, and you began to move with his own thrusts, finding a rhythm that suited the position that you were in. You were careful not to raise your head too high so that you didn’t hit it on the bottom of the bunk above you, Daryl’s right hand left your hip and rested forcefully on your ass, squeezing the flesh as he tried and failed to hold in his grunts. Surely by morning, there was no doubt that someone would make a commotion about hearing you through the screen-less doors, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not after how long it had been since you had evoked such passion with the man below you.

Sweat began to bead upon his forehead, slicking the growing locks onto his face, as you brushed them away. A heavy creak rattled from the bed as Daryl once again turned you over, and pounded in you from above, without allowing his cock to slip out from your sweet and wet pussy. From the red tint that had appeared on his face, and how he frowned as though he was on a mission, it was clear that he was getting close, which wasn’t a surprise considering the amount of time that had passed since your bodies had moulded together in such a way. You grasped him by the back of the neck, pulling him down to entrap him in a fiery kiss, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as you approached your own high.

And there it was, the destination that you had been caving for, your own release. After all of those months that you had served as a resident in a prison, you’d missed his touch, and as soon as the two of you had reunited in Atlanta, you’d made the most of the time you could get together. Daryl’s thrusts began to get sloppy as he struggled to keep up his pace after feeling you clench around his cock and cum all over it, sending him into a delirium to chase his own high. He could feel his balls straining to be emptied, and when he was almost there, he pulled out, not wanting to further the risk anymore of getting you pregnant given the state of the world, and began thrusting himself in the apex of your thighs, until finally he allowed his seed to spill over your flesh.

He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning down to press a kiss against your sweaty hairline, before reaching down and grabbing your discarded shirt, wiping your upper legs clean. He wasted no more time to curl up next to you and bring you into his large arms, staring at your face, letting you know without words that you were the most important thing to him. He’d do anything for you and to keep you safe, nobody was going to separate the two of you again, he was stern on that. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad.” You muttered lovingly into his chest, brushing your nose against where his heart lay, and Daryl releases a small but real smile as he tugged the blanket out from tour forms, awkward as his manner was, and wrapped it around the two of you, so that you could drift off to sleep in his arms and pretend for a moment in your dreams that the world wasn’t as it was.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fic #walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n

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mrs-weasley-reid · 1 year

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Doctor is In

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader

Summary: It was their turn to heed for echoes of your cries. Unweave every inch of your life to find their beloved psychiatrist. And whoever the unlucky b*stard who took you was, he was as good as dead.

Warning: abduction, use of y/n and l/n, curse word(s), stalking, pedophilia, erotomania

part 1 (Therapy Sessions)

Saturday, 12:21 AM

Time passed quickly when a whole pack of profilers searched every nook and cranny of your life. Not a blink of sleep, yet none of them needed a drop of caffeine to stay awake.

For you, they would stop breathing if it meant finding where you were. They would spend thousands of dollars to get all the needed equipment to find you. And even ignored other patrons that requested their assistance.

It wasn't irrationality. Your case was just personal. A taunt to the BAU team. How dare someone take away their psychiatrist? How dare someone take the only person who listened to their horrific stories with a kind smile? How dare someone take the only person they felt comfortable being vulnerable with?

Penelope's heels clacked on the linoleum floor, pushing the glass door open as she sped to the conference room. "I found something!" She announced as she gasped for air, handing the paper to JJ.

"What is it?" Hotch asked, nothing but a stoic manner radiating out of him.

JJ scanned through the document, lifting her gaze to meet the others. "Y/N is not Y/N." She stated, processing the information in her head.

"What do you mean?" Derek knitted his brows, straightening up on his seat.

"Dr. Y/N L/N used to be Odette Solace. She changed her name when she was fifteen years old." Penelope elaborated, picking up the remote.

"Her name sounds like a celebrity. Why would she want to change that? At the age of fifteen too?" Emily's mouth fell slightly open, and her brows locked in confusion. She wasn't lying at all. And she was one to possess different names during her days at Interpol.

Penelope hummed, pressing the button of the remote. Images of police reports appeared on the screen. "At first, I had a hard time digging into our angel dove, Y/N's past, because it came out blank as in plain white canvas type of blank. But then I thought, let's look more into her parents. That's when I realized how Y/N and her parents have different last names. And then my powers did wonders, speed like the Flash, ka-chow! Y/N had been stalked by this creepy neighbor across the street since she was four. And hear this, one time, her parents were out late, so a babysitter was hired. This dude claimed that Mr. and Mrs. Solace asked him to fix their sink to watch little Y/N playing in the living room. Happened a lot of times that her parents decided to move to a different house five blocks away. And guess what?"

"The neighbor moved to a house in the street?" JJ continued more of a statement than a question, earning a nod from Penelope.

"Because of that, Y/N was not allowed to go out, and she always wore a veil to cover her face if she really had to. The stalking stopped for a few years after the owner of the house this dude was renting kicked him out because they heard about his creepy secrets from Y/N's parents. So, all was well. Y/N got to go outside got to play with her friends. She even started going to school." Penelope triggered the screen to flash younger pictures of you.

Everyone loosened up, looking at your little smiles. A momentary relaxation amid their anxieties regarding your safety.

The first photo was of you in a fairy costume. Wings and wand and all. You carried a pumpkin bucket filled with sweets that shot up the smile on your face.

Spencer was particularly grinning at the image. He remembered how you always had a small bag of candies waiting for him every Halloween for him to pick up, whether he needed someone to talk to or not.

You even personalized it to his liking. Every candy inside the bag was taped on a small piece of paper with a nerdy joke or pun about the candy's brand.

The second photo was Emily and Derek's personal favorite. You wore a camouflage suit, two lines of black paint on each of your cheeks, and a paintball gun almost as big as you. Your face was scrunched in an attempt to look threatening, but you failed and looked constipated instead.

The team once had a horrible case where Emily and Derek disagreed. Hearing about it from Penelope, you asked both of them to visit your clinic without the other knowing.

They argued in your office but stopped when you handed each of them a paintball pistol and said, "Go on. Shoot each other. I'll be watching with more bullets if you need more."

The third image was you at the early age of fourteen. You were surrounded by four-year-old kids who latched onto you. It was the day you volunteered to help your mother, who worked in a daycare.

Hotch couldn't help but recall the day he had to bring Jack to your doorstep. The little boy was missing his mother and wouldn't talk to Hotch, which left him feeling hopeless until you crossed his mind. Maybe you would be able to encourage Jack to talk.

And just like he predicted, you were terrific with Jack. The boy was more open to his father after just one lunch date with you. Even if he didn't know the trick to mend his son's broken heart, as long as Jack could express his feelings to someone, Hotch was forever grateful to you.

Rossi wasn't impressed by your fourth photo. The fettuccine pasta you made from scratch looked more like angel hair pasta. But the caption that your mother typed clearly stated fettuccine. He made a note to teach you the difference between different kinds of pasta when they get you back.

And then there was the last photo that Penelope and JJ found hilarious. It was a yearbook photo of you. Your hair was a mess, and your braces sparkled from the flash.

Sometimes your hair still ends up that way, especially on rainy days. And they couldn't wait to see you again, alive and well, so they could tease you about it.

Sunday, 3:45 PM

You woke up from a throbbing pain in your temple. It has been a week since you got the impact wound on your head, and it still was excruciatingly painful. You needed to see a doctor as soon as possible.

And you would've walked straight into one if you could only get out of the knot that bound your limbs together.

It was dim where you were. The light that flickered as your only source of hope.

Somehow, you knew some people searching for you. And you wanted to stay alive for them as long as you could.

"Hello?! Hey!" You called out, looking around the dark room. "Please just let me out! Please!" You begged, your voice hoarse from the long week of screaming at the walls.

The door swung open, welcoming light that came from outside. You squinted your eyes, blinded by the sudden brightness.

You've heard the same door open and close for a week, and you had a great estimation of what it was made of. Metal.

A man threw a tray of food on the table in the corner of the room. He wasn't evil to deprive you of water, either. So why was he doing this to you?

You weren't a federal agent like your favorite patients. You didn't catch any serial killers. You didn't send anyone to jail. And for years, you have been a psychiatrist and never received a complaint. All your patients seem to feel better, as far as you know.

He glowered over you, "Come and eat, Odette. You don't want the food to get cold." He said in a loving voice.

"Why do you call me that? My name's Y/N. Why do you keep calling me Odette—"

A loud bang almost bled your eardrums. You thought he shot you. You shakily opened your eyes again, figuring out which part of your body had been shot.

But you weren't. He smacked the tray so loud it sounded like a gunshot. Relief spread all over your chest, and tears raged down your face.

"No, no, no, no..." His face softened, kneeling in front of you. "Don't cry. Please, don't cry." He cooed, wiping your tears.

The touch of his hand on your skin only made your tears flow like a mad river. You were disgusted by the way he acted like a lover. You had no lover.

You had no other choice. You held his hand. "Please... just let me go. I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." You sobbed.

Monday, 6:42 AM

"Sir, Mr. and Mrs. Solace is waiting for you." An agent announced in the conference room after interrupting them with a knock.

With her communication liaison background, JJ took the initiative to meet your parents. She walked down the small flight of stairs and was met with a worried couple.

"Hi, my name is Agent Jennifer Jaraeu. I'm the one who called you yesterday." She greeted kindly, flashing them a soft smile.

Your mother stole JJ's hand, clutching it for dear life, your dear life. "Please save my daughter. She's a very, very good daughter. She's always caring." Her tears fell in an instant.

JJ's heart shattered into pieces. You were loved, for Pete's sake! How dare the unsub take you? She calmed herself down before placing a hand atop your mother's. "We're doing everything we can to find her. She's a friend of mine, of all of us. We're not going to stop until we find her."

"Thank you—" Your father said in a broken voice, breaking into sobs. He was worst than your mother. He may have put on a brave face at first, but he was a mess as he shed massive tears for his only daughter.

JJ led them up to the conference room, introducing the team, your friends, hoping it would lessen your parents' worries.

"Ma'am—" Rossi was cut off by your mother.

"Lara, Agent Rossi. You can call me Lara." She sniffed.

Rossi offered her a small smile, "Then you may call me David." He waited for her nod before continuing. "We found out that Y/N changed her name when she was fifteen?"

Your father's eyes widened. No one was supposed to know that. It was a secret your parents swore to bring with them to their graves. "How did you know about that?" He defensively asked.

"We don't mean to offend you, Mr. Solace, but we needed to know everything about Y/N's life to figure out why she was abducted." Emily leveled, making sure her words did not alarm your parents.

"She doesn't know," Your mother cried, feeling your father wrap his arms around her to make her feel safe. She exchanged looks with your father, conversing through their eyes.

"She doesn't know," Your father repeated. "Y/N doesn't know her name used to be different." He explained vaguely. And when the whole team remained quiet, he knew they needed more than that. So he sighed, "That bastard took our daughter on her fifteenth birthday. It was a whole car chase that led to an accident. Y/N was hurt badly and had a head injury. She had difficulty remembering us because of trauma, so we changed her name and let her live a life free from that asshole's memory. To this day, Y/N has no idea. My wife and I made sure no one would ever know. We even hid the files from the government as best we could. Please, we don't want our daughter to remember. She already had a hard time." He rambled, holding your mother close as he fought the threatening tears to fall again.

Tuesday, 5:55 PM

The pain you were feeling has only gotten worse. But the worse thing of all was your dreams.

The man who abducted you was in those dreams. He was a lot younger, and so were you.

One of the dreams showed your four-year-old self running around a living room you weren't familiar with. And there was the man, smiling and rattling a toy in front of you. He brushed your hair, held your hands, and even playfully asked you to kiss him.

You felt nauseous. Your stomach hurled at the vivid dream. But something in your mind was telling you it wasn't. You gagged at the thought that it was real.

And tears began to rain on your lap. You stared at the door, "Someone, please, get me out of here."

Wednesday, 10:01 AM

"Garcia, search for a job with much free time. The unsub would've used those times to stalk Y/N. Maybe he's a janitor somewhere." Spencer stood behind Penelope, watching as she did her magic with her sets of keys.

One result popped up. "Oh, my god." Penelope blurted. Her eyes were filled with terror.

Spencer's brows furrowed, "What? What did you find?" He leaned closer to the screen, squinting his eyes.

"I know that address really well. That's—"

"That's Y/N's clinic." Spencer continued, stumbling his way out of Penelope's bat cave.

Penelope knew she couldn't catch up to him, so instead, she dialed Derek's number.

"'Sup baby girl, what you got for us?" He greeted her, putting her on speaker.

"The unsub. He's working for Y/N's clinic as a janitor. He's been under our noses this entire time. And–and it says in the schedule, he should be working." Penelope stammered, panicking despite the great news.

All of them shared a look as Spencer flew inside the room. Hotch gave Rossi a nod, "Alright, let's head there now." He turned to JJ. "If it's okay with you, JJ. Can you stay with Y/N's parents?"

JJ glanced at your parents, who sat in the kitchenette area in the bullpen. "I'm alright. I'll keep an eye on them. Go get our psychiatrist back. I have so many rants for her." She smiled, earning a stern but soft nod from Hotch.

It was as if they were all thrown off their seats when they moved. Derek paused, focusing on his phone. "Thanks, baby girl. We're gonna go get mama bird." He hung up the phone and followed the others.

The drive to your clinic was like flying from Quantico to New York in under fifty minutes. They were at the doorstep of the building faster than they usually go.

"I'm Agent Hotchner. We're a friend of Dr. L/N. We just wanted to know if you've recently hired this man." Hotch handed a photo of the unsub to Dr. Basset.

His eyes widened, "No, it's not recent. We've had him working for us for two years. He even stays in the spare room in the basement. He was old, so I thought it was harmless." He explained, worry creeping under his skin. He had never expected anyone to hurt his fellow doctors.

"And where's the basement?" Emily followed, nodding when Dr. Basset gave them the directions.

Meanwhile, Spencer, Derek, and Rossi made their rounds into every maintenance closet in the clinic.

"Clear," Spencer stated, stepping out of the third closet they checked. And when he turned his gaze towards Derek, he found the unsub behind him, coming out of a room. "Hey!"

The unsub's eyes blew wide, discarding his cleaning equipment and running on reflex.

Derek quickly followed in his footsteps, tackling him with a heavy body. "Don't move! Stay down!" He hissed, pinning the man down.

Rossi and Spencer followed suit, gun pointed to the man that made your entire life a living nightmare, aware or not. "Where's Y/N?!" Rossi grilled.

The unsub's deranged laughter echoed in the clinic halls, sure to leave nightmares in everyone that heard him. "I don't know a Y/N. You must be mistaken." He struggled out.

"Where's Odette?" Spencer interrogated, urging the unsub to halt his maniacal laughter.

"My sweet, sweet Odette... She was born to be my wife..." The unsub seemed to be in a trance of what he thought your lives together would be.

Hotch and Emily reached the basement, checking every corner, hoping you would be there. And then, there was a door made out of steel.

Emily softly tapped on the door, pressing an ear against it. "Y/N? Y/N, are you there?"

Your ears rang at the sound of her voice. You knew Emily's voice like the back of your palm. You attempted to pry your eyes open, but they were too heavy.

"Y/N?" Hotch knocked thrice on the piece of metal. "This is Hotch. We're here to take you home."

A strangled sob came out of you. Finally. "Hotch..." You called out in a raspy voice, feeling all the pain surge in your body.

It was faint, but they heard you loud and clear. Emily and Hotch exchanged nods before Hotch turned to the door. "I'm going to kick the door. Make sure you're away from it, okay?" He announced.

Light filtered in like a spotlight directly on you. One side of your face was stained with blood, pale skin, and dry lips that turned gray.

Hotch immediately removed his jacket and wrapped it around you while Emily untied your limbs.

And a hoarse giggle shook you, "I knew you'd find me." You whispered, slowly drifting off. "I knew you all were too attached to me to find a different psychiatrist." One last chuckle, and you were out.

Thursday, 1:23 PM

You were awakened by the annoying beeping on your side. Luckily, the pain didn't seem to factor in your consciousness returning.

You slowly opened your eyes, subconsciously squeezing the hand that held yours.

"Y/N! Oh, my, god! My baby." Your mother sobbed, squeezing your hand tighter. Your father went out to call for a nurse.

You gathered a smile as you adjusted your vision under the bright fluorescent lights. "Hey, mom." You rasped, feeling a lot better than the past week.

You felt her kissing your knuckles, catching her silent sobs. "I was so worried about you... I thought staying away from you would've kept you safe." She was apologizing, and she didn't need to say a word. Her hold on your hand was enough sign that she felt awful for letting you out of her sight.

"So... they weren't dreams, were they? He really has been on my tail this whole time?" Your mother stopped sniffing, hesitating. "Please be honest. I'm not mad. I just want to know who I am."

"Oh, sweetheart," She tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "You are you." She started, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Your father and I may have changed your name, but you are the same daughter we were blessed with. He was trying to take our baby. We just wanted to keep you safe."

You nodded, squeezing her hand back. She stayed by your side the entire day, afraid that someone else would retake you if she left you even for just one second. Until you insisted that she and your father go home and get some rest.

An hour later, came piling in a pack of profilers. They were like children at the edge of your bed.

Penelope had a massive basket for you. She said you must take all of them because they keep you hydrated.

Spencer carried his own gift for you. A book. One that you repeatedly mentioned to him but never seemed to find the time to read. He handed it to you, tucking his long curly hair behind his ears. "I annotated it, so it's easier for you to read." He gave you a tight-lipped smile.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asked, sitting beside you.

You smiled, "Better." You announced.

A wave of relief washed over them. You found it adorable. How much they loved you. How much they depended on you in a way that would disrupt a doctor-patient relationship. But you didn't care. They will always be your favorite patients.

"Jack made this for you," Hotch giddily said, giving you a customized card.

You flipped it open and immediately laughed, making you wince as your head throbbed. Your gaze met Hotch's, "You have yet to learn from Jack, Hotch." You said, showing him the inside of the card.

The others peeked behind Hotch as he scanned the contents of the card.

There was a drawing of a woman, a stick figure, with flowers in her hands. But that wasn't what made you laugh. It was Jack's message below it.

Dear, Y/N

I hope you feel better soon so we can bake cookies again!

Love, Agent Jack

P. S. Dad drew you, which was terrible, so I added flowers to make it look better.

The others also erupted in laughter while Hotch grew into a red tomato. He passed you the card back, unable to meet your eyes.

"Wanna talk about how your son embarrassed you in front of your colleagues? I can help you bounce back from the trauma." You cooed, a teasing grin on your lips. "The doctor is in."

#bau x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fandom #criminalminds #bau team #ssa jennifer #ssa spencer reid #ssa emily prentiss #ssa aaron hotchner #derek morgan #penelope garcia #dr spencer reid #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #emilyprentiss #david rossi #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner

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andraxicated · 1 year

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Pairings: blade x reader (prerequisite au) | jing yuan x reader Synopsis: You never knew coming to this world would tie you down there forever Tags: fake dating | fluff | stellaron hunter! reader | kith kith fall in love mwah a/n: I did this mini fic to cure my writer's block but it made it worse. blade's version of this will be completed soon!

~first meeting

You easily slipped into the Xianzhou within its state of unrest and its security that was too lax for Silver Wolf's standard. You walked through the streets, admiring the bustling nightlife and feeling a sense of melancholy washing over you. You're waltzing onto an unfamiliar land by having blind faith in Elio alone, basing your journey on his word.

There's an indefinite objective here. You're just wandering aimlessly amidst the sea of people. That was until someone grabbed your wrist, effectively pulling you back to be met with gold eyes and a smile.

"Found you"

"Jing Yuan?!" You whispered shocked, ready to fight or flight. It has already been made clear that you are not an enemy, they even let Blade and Kafka escape. So why is this man holding onto you?

"Before you do something, let me tell you that you are cleared of your charges and we acknowledge that the Stellaron Hunters pose no threat to us." Jing Yuan starts to speak, pulling you to the side to avoid inconvenience to the passerby. "I just want to talk."

It's ridiculous really. Sitting in front of the general and watching him chow on the noodles. Your own dish is waiting to be eaten but you can't help but be fascinated by the man in front of you. Taking your sweet time to glance over every detail of his—hair, eyes, lips, and body. You even took note of his gait on the way to this noodle shop that he recommended.

Sometimes the rumors are true.

"Are you gonna eat?"

You grimace, finding it uncomfortable that your forces were hostile to each other before but now he's acting like you've been friends for a long time.

"No. I don't know what this is." You glance at the food and lean towards him with narrowed eyes. "And maybe you're cohorts with the owner of this place and put some kind of substance to make me spill the truth about what I know."

"What do you know?" Jing Yuan doesn't seem to care and continues to feast on his meal. He momentarily looks at you before going back to his business.

"I don't know anything. I don't even know why I'm here." You lean back with an exasperated sigh. Truthfully, you're hungry and this dish seems utterly appetizing. You take the chopsticks and cautiously take a piece, chewing and waiting for some side effect to kick in but alas, nothing came. Only a burst of flavors that made your tummy protest for more.

"Is it good?"

You glare at the man in front of you, choosing not to speak and instead focusing on the steaming bowl. A smile stretches over his lips as he watches you eat, seemingly letting your guard down until you stop and raise an eyebrow at him. Jing Yuan only chuckles and shakes his head as both of you continue to bask in the silent dinner.

It lasted until he opened his mouth and let out the most ridiculous, out-of-this-planet proposal you've ever heard.

"Can you be my fiancée?"

Needless to say, you stared at him like he'd grown a head or two while his smile is kept on his lips, patiently waiting for your response to his question.

"No. Are you kidding yourself?" The only thing running through your mind was getting out of here after you're done and making him pay for it. He has to be fucked up in the head to suggest that to you of all people.

Jing Yuan puts down his utensils and stares at you ravaging the dish. In a few seconds or so, he successfully predicts you'd choke and watches you cough up your lungs, pushing the glass of water towards you which you hurriedly gulp.

"Now that you've calmed down. Let me speak." He sighed and leaned back. "This will be just pretend dating. I ask for your assistance in this matter and in return, you will benefit from this arrangement-"

"Wait. Stop right there" You point a finger at him accusingly. "How will I-"

Jing Yuan inwardly groans 'stubborn as ever'.

"Let me finish speaking, yes? The reason for this arrangement is that my parents have recently reached out to me about marriage. They have already selected some of the finest ladies in the Xianzhou but ultimately, they'd leave the choice up to me." He left out the asking for grandchildren part as he pours himself two cups of tea, one that slid over to you. You didn't need to know that conversation anyway.

You briefly look at your small reflection before tuning back to his words.

"I have a long life ahead of me and I don't think it's the time to be occupied with marriage. I have to think about that when my job as a general is done and everything is smoothly handed to Fu Xuan. Simply speaking, I don't want it right now."

"Look here general. I don't care about your sob story or whatever reason this is happening. Tell me what's my benefit in this or I'm leaving." You shrug.

Jing Yuan stayed silent for a few moments, studying your features with wandering eyes that lingered far too long for your liking.

He suddenly said something that rocked your world at its very foundation. The purpose of your visit falls right from his very lips.

"I know about you, I'll tell you about your past."

Your lips started quivering, eyebrows coming together, and mind scattering on how to know if this man in front of you is lying. Jing Yuan just dropped a bomb on you and this one could very well be a joke. But you don't think the poker face he's donning right now is a sign that he takes this lightly.

"Proof?" You whispered, silently hoping that he was telling the truth or you'd blow this place up in an instant.

"I have pictures"

"And?"

"You're there with me."

If Elio told you about staying, then you must have had a link to this planet and the long-life natives must have also known you before. Such as this one sitting in front of you.

Jing Yuan continues. "You also have scars all over your body. You wanna know why? Because it was almost destroyed from suffering a huge injury in a fight, but apparently, you got away." Your lips parted, unable to speak and you started to unconsciously touch your arm and move your thigh if it's still intact. "You were also once mara-struck, that's probably why you don't remember anything."

"Where did you get this information? From the jade abacus? Or from yourself?" You asked Jing Yuan even though you already know what his answer is gonna be.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna have to tell you that later at the end of our arrangement...So, what is your answer?"

This won't come easy as he's practically dangling a carrot in front of you. You suddenly stand up but the punchable smile stayed on the man's face. Turning to leave, you take one glance at him while you weigh your options.

This was encounter something Elio failed to mention but you never fully trusted that lunatic anyway. You finally gained a lead on your self-searching journey and you're gonna do whatever it takes even if it means forming a 'relationship' with a man you barely know.

"Tell me everything you know and I'll cooperate."

~falling in love

Jing Yuan doesn't exactly know when it all started. His heart just started beating faster when you were near and he felt empty when he couldn't see you for days. The grey-haired man longed for you to the point he'd have no motivation to function when you're not visiting him.

Did his feelings start years ago when you were still mentees?—he doesn't think it matters. But one thing is for sure, each moment spent with you in the past was deeply embedded in his heart no matter how hard he tried to bury it.

And this fake relationship thing fueled his feelings even further, he feels sick to be honest. If he said no to his parents then that'd be the end of it. Why did he even drag you in it? Maybe because it was a spur of the moment decision to find you and barge into your life.

"There's someone taking photos." Jing Yuan breaks the silence and immediately reaches for your stiff hand, not letting you go when you attempt to pull back.

"What? Who are they? Shouldn't we knock them out?' At your response, he looks at you like you said murder is okay. He sighs, suddenly interlacing your fingers together and swaying them as you look at it in horror. You think you were truly horrified that your heart started to pump a little faster and your dinner felt like rising.

"Let's act like this for the meantime until they go away. Most likely they're gonna sell the pictures for the newsletters. I'll put a notice for it to stop in the morning."

But the person doesn't stop following both of you, they think they're sneaky but your senses are on high alert the whole time. If not for Jing Yuan's hand, you would've pounced on the photographer already.

"What do you think will make them go away?" He asked and at this point, he was running out of options. Jing Yuan was a very patient man but he doesn't like someone tagging along on what's supposed to be time with you.

"Beating up works but I'll ruin your reputation so cross that off." You jokingly respond and he laughs. Your lips stretched into a small smile upon hearing him.

"I know now." He whispered near your ear and stopped you from walking, your back was facing the building where someone was lurking. And for a second, his golden eyes met the photographer's who deflated on the dangerous glint he showed.

Jing Yuan's hand snakes up to your waist, pulling you closer and stiffening your body.

"Hey!"

Your hands flew to his chest in an attempt to push back. You could very well push him, separate your bodies in this shared heat but you didn't. Frankly, you enjoyed the way he was touching you and this thought made your cheeks burn.

"Let's give them a show" Jing Yuan pulled you even closer and your hands on his chest were soon going to be squished. Where else could you put your hands other than around his shoulders? He smirked at your face, finding this ordeal amusing.

"What show?"

You thought the show he was talking about was dancing. You were in the perfect position for dancing.

"This"

But Jing Yuan had other plans and was thinking very differently from you. He leaned in so close that your eyes went wide and your breathing quickened. Puffs of air from his mouth lightly ghosted over your lips, leaving your body tingly as your mouths were inches away.

"Can I kiss you?"

His question passed by you in a daze but you nod your head anyways because it just felt right. The way his soft lips enclosed against yours, gliding and feeling the smooth expanse left him wanting more. More so that you feel yourself dipping back because of his harsh lip-locking.

Yet Jing Yuan feels kind of ticked, he pulled away and saw you open your eyes confused.

"Don't just stand there. Open your mouth." He ordered as he leaned in once again. You followed what he said, opening your mouth in a raunchy expression of affection that you soon find yourself losing to. He's very much glad that you began playing with his tongue too, feeling him smile against your kiss.

You never knew it was possible to feel a burst of emotions like that—like happiness.

#i got that dialogue from the one and only cha gyeol #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan x y/n #hsr x you #hsr headcanons #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #jingyuan x reader #jingyuan x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff

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joelsmochi · 5 months

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closer

rating: E 18+ pairing: tortured artist!Joel x black!girly!f!reader summary: Joel hits a creative block with a mural, leading him down a road of discovery and intimacy in ways he's never felt before. warnings: au/no outbreak, unspecified drug use + marijuana use, unprotected piv, sex while under the influence, consenting adults!!! age is not specified but we can assume joel is mid 40s, brief mentions of death + abusive relationships, ooc!Joel (he is not the same person he was 1/2 pill ago…), third person pov but most of it is from joel’s perspective, very fluffy sex they may have said i love you wc: 5.3k a/n: Happy New Year everybody! This was inspired by Closer by Goapele and Prisoner by The Weeknd & Lana Del Rey plus I was thinking too hard about the time I ate an edible that had too much THC for me to handle and I produced whatever this is. Hopefully tortured artist!Joel hasn’t happened yet because I felt creative with this one…

ᝰ

The frayed paintbrush relentlessly slapped against the concrete wall, coating the discolored brick in thick layers of different browns, reds, and whites. Opaque smoke blurred his vision, yet he only let it inspire the strokes of his hand, creating a beautiful image that wasn’t clear to him yet.

Before he knew it, the sun had set; he sat on his hard leather sofa, massaging the twinge that had settled into his wrist while his face wore a disappointed scowl. He was displeased with his progress, the blob that was already half dry on the wall of his loft.

A rumble snuck into his stomach, forcing him to stand up and absentmindedly walk into the kitchen area. However, his disappointment grew when he opened the fridge to find nothing suitable for a proper meal. As he glared at the half-eaten yogurt and scarce 24-pack of beer, he decided to go and get Chinese food.

He lit up a cigarillo to accompany his walk around the block and across the street, tossing whatever was left into a sewer drain just in time for him to open the door to the restaurant.

“Miller,” a worker greeted with a smile, “your usual?”

Unknown to him, the smell of his cigar caught the attention of a waiting customer. She waited until he was done chatting with the employee to ask, “Cream?”

He did a double take, unsure if she was talking to him at first. She was tall, maybe five foot nine or five foot ten, with big hair and brown skin, and dressed in something far too lovely for her to be eating Chinese for dinner.

“I’m sorry?”

“You smell like cream-flavored cigars,” she said, sounding amused.

He felt unsure of how to respond, not wanting to seem rude, watching her diamond earrings gleam from the low yellow lighting. He paid for his food and answered. “Yeah, just had one.”

“Black and mild or swisher?”

“Blacks,” he answered, growing a little uneasy from the stranger questioning him despite the mundane topic.

“My favorite,” she boasted, earning another look from him after he put his change in the tip jar. “They’re much smoother.”

The man didn’t respond, only offering a tight smile in return. The pair stood a few feet apart silently, listening to people chattering and utensils clanking behind the counter as they waited.

She smelled like expensive brown sugar perfume and cocoa butter, a sickly sweet combination that tickled his sense of smell. Her scent was reminiscent of a freshly baked cookie a kid couldn’t wait to dive into. She was dressed in a lovely skirt and a prissy top paired with a mix of gold and silver rings and necklaces and bracelets — two colors he usually hated paired together, but somehow, she made it blend beautifully.

Her makeup was soft, or so it seemed. It wasn’t too heavy, but her eyebrows were bold, as was the line drawn around her vermilion border. He noticed she blinked slowly but held her eyes wide as if she anticipated something to happen.

The employee’s voice brought the two adults out of their daydreams.

“Beef and broccoli and chow mein?” They asked.

The artist waited kindly for the woman to grab her bagged styrofoam container before reaching for his own; he walked a few feet behind her, suddenly feeling bad for his cold demeanor earlier once they were outside.

“You want one?” He called after her before she got too far away; she turned around with a frown, confused at his offering.

He reached into his pocket and held up a couple of fresh cigars. She grinned, secretly desperate for a smoke. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she strutted back towards him. She strutted like a cat, one leg crossing the other.

She allowed the man with the messy hair the privilege of placing the stick between her plump lips, keeping her eyes on his as he watched where he was lighting.

She took a long drag, waiting for him to get his cigarette lit before asking, “What’s your name?”

His eyebrow cocked up, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was amused. But he answered anyway.

“Joel.” He sharply inhaled; she responded with her name and a smile, thick smoke spilling out from the spaces between her teeth as she gently exhaled. “You from around here?”

“No,” she said, “I like to travel. See new places. Find new things… Right now, I’m fixated on museums—art museums precisely.”

That piqued his interest. “Art? What kind of art d'you like?”

“Any art that speaks to me.”

Joel smirked at her answer as if it were funny. “Oh yeah? What speaks to you?”

Instead of her usual quick response, she pondered momentarily, trying to locate proper words to avoid rambling. “Suffering or excitement.”

He could only narrow his eyes at the vague response, but she spoke again before he could ask for an elaboration.

“You must like art,” she guessed correctly.

“I’m uh…” And there’s a long pause; the rhetorical shame of confessing what his job was had risen, but for what purpose? After a short internal debate, he finally admitted, “I’m an artist myself.”

Her eyes widened with excitement, which Joel found adorable. She asked him various questions: what kind of art he created, how long he’d been painting, his favorite creations…

He admired her interest in the subject and how she listened carefully and intently, clearly trying to understand as much as possible about him.

“How do you stay inspired all the time?”

Shit.

Joel’s mind ran blank for a few seconds, and he watched the woman’s face contort into confusion. She worried she’d brought up an unhealed wound and persisted that he didn’t need to answer.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Joel assured, “I’ve honestly been at a block lately…”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Do you do anything to help get over that?”

He sucked on his teeth as he thought of an appropriate answer, yet nothing came to mind. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. “Just wait for it to pass.”

“…Could... Could I see your art?”

For the first time, she seemed to be shy. Her teeth grimaced, and eyebrows crooked out of fear of rejection, but Joel was sure he was far more nervous than she was.

"Uh, sure..." He said hesitantly. "What I have at home is nothing special, but-"

"I'm sure it's beautiful," she interrupted. "I'm free right now if that works."

ᝰ

This was unlike him: inviting a girl he'd just met into his home. She had something that enamored him. What was it, he wondered with each passing minute, was it her beauty or curiosity? Was it the way she smiled or how sweet her voice sounded? He couldn't ponder for much longer as she had already begun complimenting his home.

"A loft," she said while taking in the brick walls of his home that were littered with several paintings that all seemed to be works in progress. "It's cozy." Joel watched as her painted nails gently trailed over the armrest of his stiff couch just before she reached up to feel a painting of what seemed to be a little girl.

His staring made the woman laugh, and while he could admit he was being a bit precarious, he just wanted to ensure she wouldn't mishandle that particular piece. She didn't. She just reached to stroke the texture meant to resemble the girl's curly hair; she touched it for only a moment before pulling away and turning around.

After realizing the painting was sacred to him, she asked, "Is that someone you know?"

His shoulders and chest rose as he sucked in a melancholic breath, and she couldn't ignore the sadness that swarmed his eyes.

The woman was satisfied with no answer and moved on quickly. "May I eat with you?"

Joel gave her a stiff nod, his thoughts still filled with the traumatic memories of the girl in the photo.

They sat quietly and slowly ate their food, the lack of heat from their containers making the meal invaluable. The silence comforted him as it felt much different than the cold silence he was used to. No. Her silence was warm and comforting... Like a mother caring for a sick or sad or sleeping child. She didn't offer any awkward glances or stiff smiles. She didn't hide her joy or her optimism despite his distant demeanor.

Her eyes weren't as big as they were just an hour ago. Perhaps the food made her sleepy, he thought.

"Where ya from?" He figured he should at least be a good host.

"Rockport. It's a small town in Massachusetts. You?"

"Born and raised here," he answered.

"Really?" She squinted at him while poking at broccoli with a fork. "Never wanted to leave?"

Shrugging, he said, "Thought about leaving, never needed to."

"Is that painting supposed to be the same girl?"

She pointed to the spontaneous mural partly done on the big red wall opposite to them. He looked at it, forming different opinions and thoughts on his work.

"No. Not entirely sure what that one is yet," he grunted. "Needed to paint something, but I can't quite figure it out yet."

"You should do a self-portrait," she suggested with a wide grin. "I'd love to see how you see yourself."

"Nah, if I did that, it'd just be a college-ruled notebook with a bunch'a scribbles in it."

She chuckled at his pessimism, gaining a confused look from him. "So? Maybe someone would see something between the scribbles."

"I don't like painting myself," he said firmly.

She couldn't care less about his seriousness; she saw his need for perfection and keeping busy with work. Seeing the distress on the average person's face wasn't unfamiliar to her; all she wanted to do was take it away.

"Your art is lovely, Joel," she spoke truthfully, "For what it's worth, I think you'd paint yourself beautifully."

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, taking in her warm smile and gentle words.

"You're very kind," he admitted, "thank you."

The temptress walked and stood in front of the mural to admire the thick blobs of paint that were still tacky. She saw the vision but just as quickly saw the block.

"You seriously do nothing to help the creative blocks?"

With a slight frown, he shook his head to confirm. "Just try working on something else until I find my rhythm again."

"Why not? Why not music or movies or going outside for more than Chinese on a Thursday evening?"

Feeling a bit antagonized, Joel scowled at her. "I paint what's in my head, not around me."

"Maybe that's the problem." She sat close to him on the floor and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Maybe you've painted all you know, and you're stuck right now because there's nothing new inside that pretty little head a'yours."

"Flattery only gets you so far, sweetheart."

"It got me in your apartment, did it not?"

His scowl grew, and he felt no need to hide his annoyance from her.

"Just tryna help," she smirked.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly not," she simpered; she pulled a bag of ground weed from her purse and held it up for him to see. "Maybe you need Mary's help."

"You're fucking joking."

"It helps me," she said softly. "When I don't smoke, I'm a very anxious and shy person."

Joel's eyes fell to her hands, which were beginning to work the weed into a paper very carefully, watching her roll it precisely. "Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Mock me all you want, Joel, but I must say that even a couple of hits can make you feel ten times better."

"Not interested," he quipped.

"Well... If weed isn't your speed, then maybe..." She licked the paper shut and placed it on the table, then reached in her purse again for a bag containing different colored pills. "...ecstasy would be more fitting."

"You expect me to take drugs from a stranger?" He asked.

She leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm no stranger, Joel. I'm your inspiration."

He found himself laughing at her choice of words, not paying her any mind as she climbed into his lap. She placed a pill between the rows of her teeth and bit down to break it in half, offering him whichever half was smaller.

"You don't have to if you really don't want to... But it will help."

Her voice was so enticing that Joel was sure he was already high from the affection she persisted in giving him.

"Help me paint?" He asked, still not entirely convinced.

"Help you create."

Joel thought about it: he had nothing left in his life to live for other than his talent for painting, and he even felt that it was being wasted on unproductive days and constant disappointments.

For months, all he wanted was to create one last masterpiece and to feel proud of it. If all it took was to give in to some strange form of peer pressure, then that's just what needed to be done.

Almost an hour later, however, his worries about art were set aside.

With his head lying in the pretty woman's lap, he tried remembering why he had been so angry before. He let her stroke the curly hairs on his head and trace his lips over and over again.

"You're doing good," she cooed gently.

"You're very, um," he swallowed between his heavy breaths, "nurturing."

He noticed the woman's eyebrow shift upwards, and an amused hum left her mouth. "Hm. No one's ever said that before."

"Really?" Joel began to realize how dry his throat became. "Well, it's a compliment."

"Thank you," she giggled. "Thirsty?"

"Mmhm," he moaned.

Reaching over to grab the water bottle on the floor, she took a long sip as she felt parched before holding his head up to help him drink some. He felt her sticky lip gloss around the rim and found himself latching even harder onto the plastic container.

She let him drink as much as he needed before closing the bottle and helping him stand up, urging him to paint something.

He felt a wave of heat envelope his body, the hairs along his arms and neck dancing along his skin. He wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny, so he tried to hold it in. He followed her around the room and watched the ends of her hair bend and curl around her arms. She opened a few paint bottles, squeezing some onto his stained palette and holding the brush out for him. She couldn't help but laugh at the elation in his wide eyes; he was definitely in a much better mood than before.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, not bothering with the meaningless utterance of words and just giving into his need to kiss her. She wasn't surprised by the gesture, inviting his tongue into her mouth for more. She tasted the cigar on his breath and lips, ignoring how bitter it seemed.

The paintbrush smeared itself against Joel's elbow, causing him to jolt back in shock, only to laugh when he realized the purple-coated paintbrush was bending on its own. He took it from her hand and approached the wall, immediately getting to work.

While he worked and ranted about how the piece was "basically painting itself," she undressed slowly while prancing around the room and humming to some tune that found its way into her head. Joel saw the colors blend and separate, waiting for the wall to respond with where his next brush stroke should be.

The woman found herself looking at that painting of the little girl again. She was unable to quiet her curiosity.

"Is she your daughter?"

Her voice broke the string tying him to his work, and he stumbled around a bit before turning around and facing her with an asking face. He let his tools go and followed the sound of the siren, looking deeply into her wide eyes.

"She was my daughter," he admitted freely, something he refused to do as often as possible.

"Where is she?"

He noted how concerned she seemed and took it as an invitation to confide in her.

“She uh… She died ‘bout ten years ago.”

Joel felt her fuzzy arms weave around him, encompassing him with a sense of comfort. It was the first time he could talk about the tragedy without bursting into tears. Her lips pressed warm kisses into his forehead and temples as she attempted to bathe him in consolation.

He removed his head from the crook of her neck to look at her face. Her eyes, although appearing a bit lopsided, were still wide and curious, like she was still waiting for something. He tried to focus on just her, but all he wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to pai-

A shriek broke him out of his trance: the woman seemed surprised about the splatter of paint that got on her bare chest and arms. Joel blinked rapidly and tried to decipher what had happened between talking about his daughter and... Now.

Had time managed to escape him? Was he too out of it to realize that? And who put on the jazz music?

The brown liquid dripped down her body and hid her nipples; he found the motion fascinating. How happy she seemed to be coated in the cold dispense helped him feel more at ease and join in laughing with her. Her hair, frizzier than before, somehow gave the illusion that she was underwater. It just flowed so freely.

"You are a mermaid in the most beautiful depths of the sea," Joel shouted dramatically.

"Wh-what?" She giggled before smearing a finger-lengths of paint onto his forehead.

His hand absentmindedly poked the paintbrush into her collarbone, tickling her in the process. "You are free... And kind... Did you turn the music on?"

And she's giggling again. God, he couldn't get enough of that sound. She was a siren, manipulating him with her songs of joy and laughter.

"You told me to," she answered; only Joel took a few minutes to process it. She covered her hand in yellow paint, cradled his cheek, and let the print of her hand stick to his face as if she were marking her territory. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Joel," she said quietly.

Instinctively, he beckoned for her to close the space between them. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

Her arms snaked around his neck as she looked at his aura and vented. "I was supposed to go on a date tonight with my ex-boyfriend. He wasn't the greatest guy. Abusive. Angry. But my parents love him, and they say he's changed, so... I wanted to try again."

Joel's drug-induced nosiness got the better of him. "Why didn't you?"

She sighed, a smirk daring to grow on her face. "I wanted to make him feel stupid."

He wrapped his arms around her waist at her wise words, holding her close as if she would blow away had he exhaled too hard.

"M'glad I met you too," he admitted. "Did I spill paint on you?"

"Just a bit, but it was my fault. You were in a daze," she admitted bashfully.

The pair took a few minutes to look at each other, feel their spirits, and soak up the serenity between the small gap in their lips.

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Those words would have left Joel speechless in any other scenario at any other time on any other day. But he was high out of his fucking mind, and once his brain had fully processed her question, he answered with a short and sweet "Yes."

He waited patiently as the vixen undressed him, and she took her precious time; her knuckles grazing the wiry hair along his pelvis sent hot shivers across his abdomen before his jeans pooled around his ankles. Lifting his arms to aid in the removal of his shirt, he flinched and giggled childishly when she placed a kiss or two along his collarbone.

She gasped at the nails digging into her sides, his hands begging for more because his voice was too weak to. The desperation grew in his eyes, and he wanted to feel close to her. To feel all of her depths and shallows and curves and grooves. Her essence rendered him helpless. The smell of her perfume was even more sickly than he recalled, but all the much more sweet.

Their bodies danced onto the floor, bending and curling around each other like snakes.

"I was always afraid of this," he spoke as she worked her hand around him, not that he needed it. "Feeling close with someone. After my last... You know."

She smiled at his words, telling him with her eyes: I know.

"I was so scared to feel close to someone..." She admitted. "After him, I wanted to be left alone. Untouched."

"What changed that- oh, fuck," Joel moaned, feeling her wetness encapsulate him.

"Someone found me, ha-ah, hmm... And took care a'me, just like I'm doing for you."

Joel clawed at her back, reaching for her hair, but his arms were too heavy, with the quick rushes of euphoria soaring through his veins. Her moans and pretty little sounds coaxing him into blindness. He couldn't see her face, covered in the universe of her bangs littered with stars and planets, until she leveled her happy face with his. The shimmer in her glossy eyes let him know she enjoyed this just as much as him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, ever s-seen," he moaned.

Finally able to lift his arms, he used them to hold her face gently. He admired her refreshing beauty. She moaned something about how sweet he was, though it went unregistered to him.

All he could feel was her thighs flexing against his hips every time she rode down, and he felt his cock brush that sensitive sponge deep inside of her. Her hands pressed painfully into his ribcage, but he didn't mind. He loved that she needed him so much that it hurt.

She laid her body down on his chest, bringing her lips to his chin; he whimpered at the softness of her lips, his warm breath hitting her nose and making her body shudder. His mouth parted to stick his tongue out for her to lick and suck, which she did graciously.

He never knew his tongue could feel so ticklish or that having it licked would feel so damn good. It made his cock throb against her walls, forcing a moan out of the both of them. Her nails scratched his scalp tenderly, hips rocking back and forth, creating the perfect rhythm.

Her breasts dragged against the hairs on his chest, making some of the dried brown paint flake onto him; her nippled peaked, vulnerable from the friction.

Joel wrapped his forearms around the base of her spine and rolled over as carefully as his intoxicated body would allow. With hair splayed out, she looked so ethereal, like a walking painting herself.

Then, he noticed a bucket of paint sitting nearby and dipped two of his long fingers inside, dragging the white liquid down the valley of her breasts until he reached the peak of her belly. He noticed how her body reacted: all of the little shakes and shudders signs of appreciation made his heart swell.

His hand reached around her hip to grip her ass as he rested his body weight on her and enveloped her in more kisses. His hips rocked gently and slowly, careful not to hurt her. He wanted to feel her cum and hear her beg him to keep going.

To her, it felt like he pushed deeper with each thrust, begging her body to swallow him whole and allow him the grace of becoming one with her. Her eyes were so low, yet she was seeing more clearly than ever. Seeing his aura radiate off of his broad shoulders and tousled hair - it was a haze of blue and purple. But hers were shades of reds and oranges in his eyes, a fiery tyrant that bullied him with praise and adoration.

His nose tickled her chin while his lips made their way up to plant another kiss on her sweet, sweet mouth. The alcohol in her perfume singed the hairs along his face and nostrils, pilling the hairs on his arms.

"Harder, ngh- please," she murmured.

He saw her blown pupils roll gently beneath her eyelids as beads of sweat formed along her hairline. Her breathing was shallow and short. She was close.

Licking his reddened lips, he pushed her knees back until they were flush with her jawline and shifted his body weight from his knees to his toes, then changed the force of his hips without changing the rhythm.

She loved that he listened to her: harder did not mean faster, and he fucking perfected it. Almost like he knew just how hard to go.

Joel drove into her deep enough to make her cunt squelch and clench around his thick cock. He felt clumsy inside of her like he was tripping up over his own orgasm. He felt all of her ridges and curves, the smooth and the rough; everything intensified in a way that could only be described by the God he didn't believe in.

But she had him questioning that in the back of his mind. He would have believed that she was God herself if he wasn't aware of how high he was. She looked celestial, her mouth forming an 'o', and her hair sprawled around her shimmering face. Even with her mascara flaking and running slightly, she seemed so content, so pleased.

Joel's desperation to come inside of her was almost primal, instinctive... If her nails weren't digging so sharply into his forearms, he wasn't sure whether or not he would have been able to hold back.

He didn't ease up on her throughout her orgasm. Honestly, he didn't think too much about it. He never wanted right now to end. With a sense of ecstasy coursing through his veins, he managed to turn into something he tried so hard not to be. He craved her body, her kisses.

He pulled her into his lap before resting his cheek on her breast. He inhaled the musk of her sweat deeply, cherishing the divine woman she was. She felt as beautiful as she looked. She fucked just as sweet as she smelled.

His clammy hand ran over her flexed calve as she bounced on him. Her movements were sloppy from his tight grip, not that either of them cared. She was sure not to go too high or come down too hard, allowing her pussy to drip white remnants of her orgasm onto his balls. He licked and kissed and bit her tits as a submissive thank you.

She kissed the top of his hair, strumming her fingers along his scalp. "Joel," she moaned, "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he grunted almost instantly.

Raising his head to look back at her blissed out face, he pulled her even closer. His chin dug into her clavicle, but his neediness only made her laugh softly.

Joel's face twitched as his body proposed its orgasm, his dick throbbed roughly against her sensitive walls. She gasped, taking it as a sign to fuck him faster despite the burning in her legs. He winced at her arms weighing heavier into his collarbones but just clawed at her ass to power through the pain.

She placed a hand over his heart and pushed gently, forcing him to feel the thumping against his chest. He felt so much of his anger and pain dissipate beneath her touch, instilling love and peace in place of it.

"You're so precious," he whispered. A lovely smile rose onto her face, one that drove him crazy. He looked at her with big puppy eyes that threatened to fill with tears. She licked along her teeth and bit her bottom lip. "I love y-you..." He knew he didn't mean it and that she didn't either, but he missed being able to say those words. "Tell m- oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Tell me you love me," he pleaded. "Tell me you love me 'til I cum, baby."

"I love you, Joel.”

His eyes screwed shut, face falling into the curve of her neck.

“I love you, baby. I want you to cum for me,” she moaned, breathless from exhaustion.

His nails dug deeper into her flesh, he was clinging onto his climax as much as possible, wanting to wait long enough for it to destroy him.

“Oh, Joel, fuck!” She yelped. “I love you, I love you!”

And he broke.

His nails scratched lines up her back whilst he screamed into her chest. Her pussy throbbed against his sensitive cock from the arrival of her second orgasm, heightening his sensitivity.

A few tears shed his eyes at the closeness; Joel felt like he was falling into the Earth. He was so dizzy and confused, cornered by the affection clouding his judgment.

“I love you,” she whispered into his scalp, placing one last kiss before climbing off of his lap.

He hissed at the last stroke of her cunt but helped her lay down, using his t-shirt to prop her head up.

“I love you,” he said before kissing her head.

“You should drink some water.”

As soon as she said that, he felt the itchiness in his dry throat. He grabbed water from the table a few feet away and chugged as much as his stomach could handle.

“Will you bring me the joint and a lighter?”

Joel fulfilled her request and sat the water next to her, immediately looking back at his work in progress while she got herself situated.

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “Are you coming down?”

Confused, he looked down at her but saw that the colors weren’t so loud anymore. “Think so…”

“Take a few hits. It’ll help.”

He hesitated but sat down and did as she told him.

“Thank you,” he said after briefly coughing and handing the joint back to her. “I think whatever that… Pill was actually helped.”

“If it wasn't the pill, it must’ve been the sex,” she teased, earning a laugh from him. She tapped his shoulder and pointed her head towards his mural.

ᝰ

A rough pounding woke Joel up from his slumber. He groaned, pressing the meat of his palm to his forehead and slowly sitting up before remembering the girl was still next to him.

He watched her sleep soundly, mouth slightly parted and a gentle snore creaking from her throat. The memories of last night flooded his mind, and while they were somewhat fuzzy, he remembered clear as day how it felt.

He felt most of his questions had been answered by something more complex than communication. It was frightening yet calming at the same time.

Her body stirring regained his focus, and he knew she must have been feeling the same tension headache as he was when she groaned before her eyes fluttered open. She squirmed from the cold air and looked up at the hungover man, smiling as she remembered the night before.

“Morning, Joel,” she said with a playful tilt.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Your head hurtin’?”

“Yep,” she grunted while sitting up. “Ever been to that café on thirty-fourth street?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll take you there for some coffee and breakfast. My treat,” she told him.

Her eyes landed on the big, dull wall that had been taunting Joel for weeks, only to find it was a brightened, complete piece of art.

She admired the woman's beauty and asked him without looking away, “S’that me?”

Joel smirked and reached for his boxers, standing to put them on.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” Joel kissed her head and walked away, leaving the woman alone to admire his masterpiece…

Her.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #joel tlou #tlou #tortured artist!joel

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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Soooo you cut us off right at the good part 😭😭 so if you are feeling up to it, how would angel Stevie help her. What would he say? I feel like he is such a smooth sweet talker 😭🥺😭 ALSO we can’t forget about our devil Eddie. What would he be doing? Would be continue to mock her for having to have her angel get her off? How she is corrupting Stevie(even though we all know that’s not the case) but I mean he is the devil so I feel like he would be a bit of a dick 🤔🤔

What do you think 🤔💋💋💋

A/N: PLEASE I just chowed down some chocolate and immediately wrote this continuation

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist

“Just block him out, baby,” Steve’s eyes bore into your very soul as his fingers deftly swirled your little pearl, “yeah, that’s it, there you go,” he let his other hand drop from the sweet hold he had on the side of your face, down to where your tits rippled like waves from every clumsy thrust your friend enforced from behind you, “it’s just us, yeah?” you felt him just lightly caress one of your nipples, tickling your sensitive bud before capturing it between his fingers, “just this right here…”

Silencing your whimper with his lips, Steve didn’t stay there long, dancing his gentle kisses over your jaw and along your neck. Eyes fluttering and with the angel no longer obscuring your view, you caught sight of Eddie still sitting on the desk, although now he wasn’t just watching you like a hawk, he was doing something very different.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, blinking as he brazenly jerked his angry cock, the flushed length rippled with veins so pronounced that you could almost see his pulse from here.

“Yeah, you like that?” Jonathan mistook your words.

Your eyes travelled up the demon’s body and locked with his impossibly dark ones, from here it almost looked like his pupils blacked out everything else, making his chocolaty gaze but a memory of yesteryear, “yes, please don’t stop.”

Detaching his lips from the lavender mark he swiftly blooming on your neck, Steve whipped his head around and scowled, “seriously, Munson? Can you not make it about you for like two seconds?”

“What?” he nearly laughed, not slowing his movements for one second, “she likes it, don’t you sweetheart?” and after offering him a shy nod of complete confirmation, Eddie continued, “see, I’m just doing my part, same as you. Now don’t start slacking, man. Make her feel good while I give her a show.”

Huffing out a small chuckle, the angel kneeling before you pressed down harder on your puffy clit, causing your eyebrows to curl up as you let out a moan much more authentic than any of the faked ones you’d let your friend hear all night.

“Yeah, there it is,” Eddie groaned, tightening his ringed fingers around his lavish girth, “keep sounding like that and you’ll have me drowning out buddy boy’s pathetic moans for you real soon.”

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cookiesuga55 · 7 months

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Subscription Gainer

Gainer Jungkook has a subscription to a weight-loss tips magazine... just so he can do everything they suggest in reverse. He gets so excited every month to get his new book of health tips, food trends, and learn what dietitians say you shouldn't eat... which means Jungkook tries it.

Jungkook happily flips through it across the next few weeks to pick up things that keep his gaining-lifestyle exciting.

"Oh... laying down after eating increases belly fat?" Jungkook moves from sitting to reclining on his couch after chowing down on Chinese takeout, a hand resting on his full belly as he smiles down at it. "You fatten up for me, okay?" He pats his gut and belches, rubbing in bliss.

"Dairy is one of the top foods on the list of 'what wrecks your metabolism'. They say to cut out milk... it's bad for your thighs and waistline." Jungkook puts four big gallons of whole milk in his cart at the grocery store, fully intending on having a thick glass with every meal. He gets blocks of cheese, tubs of yogurt, and a carton of heavy whipping cream just to top it off, humming contently as someone peeks over at his peculiar purchases.

"Someone who drinks 1 to 2 cans of soda a day will expand their waist line five times faster than someone who doesn't..." Jungkook pants as he reads that one. "Thankfully I've got that covered." He takes another swig from his two-liter jug of coke and flips to the next page about combating a sedentary lifestyle, and kicks up his feet.

"Using a smaller plate will make you think that you're eating more, because your plate looks fuller. Limit yourself to only one portion. Oh that'll be fun-" Jungkook piles up food on a massive platter that he serves guests with on holidays and uses it as a plate for himself. He loads it up with a mountain of mashed potatoes, fried chicken, cornbread, and creamy mac n cheese. "It's still only one portion..." He giggles as he sets the feast in his lap and begins to dig in.

"Low-fat foods are loaded with sugar and can actually make you gain weight..." Jungkook frowns as he warily picks up low-fat mayonnaise off the shelf, feeling like he's betraying himself. "I'm putting all of my faith in you, dietitians. If you deprive me of the deliciousness of full-fat mayo-" He turns over the two bottles to compare the nutrition facts and his eyebrows shoot up. Three times more sugar. Jungkook whips out his phone, googling if sugar or fat is worse for weight gain. He grins as he drops the low-fat option into his basket and happily pads away, his tummy warm with the promise of extra poundage.

"Cut out fast food." Jungkook racks up points in his delivery app. The numbers on his scale climb up just as quickly.

"Choose foods that keep you full for longer. Sugar makes you hungry. Stay away from sugary foods late at night." Jungkook drags his carton of ice cream out of the freezer at 1 am, licking his lips as he pops it open. "Sugar and cream. Delicious and so fattening. I love you, ice-cream. Marry me." He groans around his spoon.

"All it takes is a surplus of 200-500 calories a day to see quick results of gaining fat." Jungkook's mouth waters, and his hands come up to slowly squeeze and knead at his flab as he reads aloud. "If you eat an extra 500 calories a day- a few oreos or dessert- it will take 6 days to gain 1 pound of fat." Jungkook groans, greedily grabbing the heavy pooling of blubber resting in his lap that he is growing. He shakes it, wanting to drool as his entire body responds in wobbles. "And how fat will you get by overeating constantly, huh? How fat will I get from one stuffing?" He asks his magazine as his gut growls just at the thought of being stuffed and fattened. Jungkook reaches for his takeout delivery app, cashing in his hard earned reward points as he imagines the hearty feast filling his greedy gut.

Oh, how the dietitians that work so hard to research and make this health magazine would scream if they could see how Jungkook uses it like a holy bible of ways to get even fatter.

#why is this so adorable ;u;

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ficclings · 9 months

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Lost ~ Chapter Four

Previous Chapter

Taglist: if you would like to be tagged or I forgot to tag you, let me know! @laymegentlytorest @im-sinking-in-mud @hydroyaksha @hehe-24-hehe @neohyxn

The feeling of fingers gently petting her ears was a lovely feeling and she stretched out her limbs, fingers itching to grab onto Felix for a cuddle before she suddenly froze at the smell of rotting to the right of her.

Right, still with Lee Know she pushed away her slight disappointment and opened her eyes to see Lee Know smiling cautiously at her, hands moving away from her ears and quickly pushed a couple of cereal bars towards her.

“Eat up, Spots,” he stretched his arms and then proceeded to stretch out his legs, groaning as he did so.

“Have you left this building at all?”

Lee Know met her eyes for a few seconds before turning so he could try and stretch out his arms a bit more.

“No need to when I have everything here,” he explained, closing his eyes as he felt his muscles stretch making her extremely flustered for a second and she looked to the floor, “it’s why I’m stretching,” he added.

She nodded in response, too embarrassed to look up as she chowed down on a chocolate cereal bar; smiling at the sugar she was having after not having some for a while.

Once the two of them had gotten their things together, an air of nervousness washed over them, and a small look of comfort was shared between them as they made their way towards the window, she had smashed her way through.

“Be careful, I didn’t smash the window in a delicate manner,” she explained as she effortlessly slipped out, pausing as she immediately had the smell of blood enter her nose and she turned to see Lee Know holding his hand.

“It’s just a small cut, I’m good,” he assured her and waved his sore hand in the air, where she promptly grabbed his hand and licked over his cut making him yelp and jump backwards with a considerably redder face.

“I’m part Dog,” she pointed out as if it were obvious, “though normal dogs have a lot of bacteria, I don’t,” she showed her fanged teeth proudly, “hybrids have extra....things to them and dog hybrids can actually clean wounds....unlike full dogs,” she smiled when Lee Know nodded silently as she was pretty sure he was now the flustered one.

“I thought that was common knowledge, sorry,” she bowed a little as she apologised and Lee Know quickly snapped out of his daze.

“I was just caught off guard,” he mumbled and motioned for them to keep walking as he eyed the small group of zombies still pottering about the place.

As Lee Know looked around, he felt very small all of a sudden when he saw how fast the area had gone to ruin while he had been hunkered down in the office building.

He shifted his eyes to his new friend who was on high alert as she scanned and sniffed the area, both for danger and her lost friend. He was saddened that she seemed used to this situation, used to the way things looked outside.

“I can smell the road we were on,” she exclaimed and Lee Know smirked in amusement when she stood on her tip toes to try and sniff the air better over the stench of the dead walking around.

“Well, that means we’re close to your home, right?” Lee Know saw her nod in confirmation and they picked up their pace as they neared the shattered pharmacy that Felix had gone into.

She gasped at the sight of the doorway to the pharmacy, three freshly executed zombies were blocking the entrance; one of the zombies had been cut in half, the rotten flesh ripping as its own spinal cord was too heavy.

“Are any of them your friend?” Lee Know asked with a worried tone as he tried to read the hybrid’s face, her eyes still glued on the bodies before them.

“No,” she moved closer, trying not to be sick as she took smaller sniffs to try and pick up Felix’s scent, “he was here; he was the one who killed these guys,” she suddenly hurled backwards and cupped her hand to her mouth as she tried to stop herself from being sick, the oversensitivity of her nose really was becoming her worst enemy during this apocalypse.

“Spots?” she felt his hand gently press against her back, “I know it sucks that you can smell them more, but we need to move,” he gave her a small smile when she looked up at him with a pale face, mouth still blocked by her hands and her ears pushed back on her head in distress.

“C’mon, show me the way or y’know,” he twirled his bat in his hand, “we could always stand around and get eaten,”

She could sense that he was nervous being outside of the office building and she knew he was putting on a bit of a front, but she just wanted to get both her breathing and stomach settled before walking, one hundred percent certain she would be sick if she started moving.

Lee Know chewed the inside of his cheek and he looked around and over his shoulder, eyes widening as he could see zombies throwing themselves into other zombies in the distance, screaming like banshees as their fingernails became dirtied with one another’s grey flesh.

His hold on his bat got tighter as nearer screams started to echo around some of the buildings close to them; his heart beating frantically in his chest as he longed to be back in his almost-safe building where he could snack and drink without being on the menu himself.

“I need,” she stopped to try and breathe clearer, forcing herself away from the doorway to lessen the smell, “I’m...please look away from me,” she could feel her anxiety getting the better of her again and once Lee Know quickly turned away from her, she was sick once again and the only though that jumped to her mind was that the cereal bar was now wasted.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she whispered looking to the floor once she had finished, cringing as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, other hand waving her baton in distress, “t-this way,” she couldn’t meet his gaze when he turned back around, bat held in an attack form just in case and she moved forwards in silence as she tried to fight off the utter dread she was feeling as she wondered how weak Lee Know thought she was.

If Lee Know could pick up on her distress, she was glad he had the foresight to keep quiet about it whilst she tried to get focused again.

You’re outside you fucking moron! Focus! Both of you could die if you don’t focus! She nodded at her own thoughts and opened her eyes, a deep breath following.

“It’s going to piss down,” Lee Know informed her as the skies above them grew black in colour, “piss down and storm, aren’t we the lucky ones?” he commented sarcastically, feeling the tension leave the hybrid as she laughed at his sarcasm.

“Rain gets rid of the smell,” she pointed out, “so it’s a blessing to me,” she giggled quietly at the less than enthused expression on Lee Knows face.

Thunder rumbled through the area, but it sounded far away, she tried to concentrate on her hearing, but she couldn’t block out the sudden screaming from the zombies as they reacted to the noise of the storm brewing.

It didn’t take that much longer for the two of them to finally reach the apartments; after throwing themselves into alleyways to hide as groups moved passed them several times, they were just relieved to see the doors.

“Wait,” she froze at the sight of fresh blood across the handles of the doors, and it didn’t help that she could smell that Felix had been here not long ago.

“What’s the mat-wait!” Lee Know yelled as she suddenly took off in a blind panic, ripping the door open after fumbling with the button for a second, the door slamming against the wall of the building and cracking the glass.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out, tripping over her own feet as she climbed the stairs, knees now bruised and cut.

She was almost hyperventilating when she reached her floor, hands now frantically grabbing at her jean pockets to find her key.

She could faintly hear Lee Know shouting after her as he chased his way upwards.

Unlocking the door, she burst into the apartment, tears brimming as she looked around for her friend.

“FELIX?!” she was aware of how hysterical she sounded but she couldn’t stop her sheer panic at the thought of losing somebody who was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

It was then that she was suddenly grabbed from behind, sending her into another panic as she spun around with her baton held ready to strike; she then froze upon coming face to face with Felix’s large eyes shimmering at her with his own tears spilling down his face in relief.

“You’re safe!” she whimpered making him nod and she threw her arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder, “I-I saw the blood on the door and I could still smell you and I thought...I thought!” she wailed as she started to realise just how scared she had been; though her tail was now endlessly wagging.

“I thought you were dead,” Felix’s deep voice broke in the middle of his sentence as he gently her the sides of her face, “I tried to find you, but I just couldn’t get passed, I was chased back home,” he chewed his bottom lip, “I cut myself falling arse over head,” he pointed out with a small chuckle, watery smile on his lips, “that was the blood,” he waved his scratched up legs to her and it was then that she took in his state.

He was currently in just a shirt and shorts, plasters all over his legs.

“Me too,” she lifted her jeans legs to show her dark bruises, “we’re a mess,”

“And you’re soaking,” he added with a laugh as she really did look so defeated with her clothes soaked through.

“Why did you run off like that?!” she jumped at the sound of Lee Know’s voice as he reached the doorway, clearly out of breath from all the running he’d done.

“I-I’m sorry, I was worried,” she explained and gestured to a suddenly silent Felix who was staring at Lee Know with an almost disbelieving look on his face; as if he was seeing an illusion.

“Hyung?” Felix whispered with a voice that made him sound much younger than he was, “holy shit,” his face scrunched up as he broke down in tears once again, pulling the older man into his arms and burying himself in his chest, hands grasping the fabric of Lee Know’s office shirt.

“Yongbok,” Lee Know’s voice was shaky as he held Felix tightly, his eyes squinting as if he was trying to stop himself from joining the younger in his crying.

“Hyung,”

Lee Know looked over his shoulder at his new friend who was currently closing the door, locking it before she turned back to him with a thoroughly confused look on her face.

“You should have said you were looking for Felix,” Lee Know felt a lump in his throat when Felix whimpered against his chest.

“What the hell is going on?” she asked with an adorable tilt of her head, nose and cheek bright red from all the crying she was still doing.

“This is Minho Hyung,” Felix murmured finally pulling away and holding out his hand to her so he could have both close to him, “you found him,” he smiled warmly when her hand linked with his.

“Minho?” she looked to Lee Know.

“Lee Know is a nickname,” he explained with a shrug, “just used to introducing myself like that,”

80 notes · View notes

spicycinnabun · 5 months

Text

Delivered

WC: 3031 🥠 Rated: T 🥠 on Ao3

Somebody was banging on the front door.

“Who the fuck is there?” Mickey barked from the bathroom.

He had just gotten out of the shower and wasn’t expecting anyone to show up at the house tonight. Unexpected visitors were never a good sign. He wrapped a towel around his hips and held it closed, exiting the cloud of steam.

“Delivery!” came the reply, muffled behind pine.

“Ain’t ordered no delivery,” Mickey muttered, tromping to the door. His feet left wet patches on the carpet. He hadn’t even dried his hair yet, so it was dripping too, as he grabbed his Glock from the side table. Mickey opened the door without checking the peephole.

Sure enough, a delivery guy was standing on his porch in a green baseball cap and a tight grey t-shirt.

He looked startled for a moment, probably by Mickey’s appearance and the pistol in his hand, but he recovered with a (friendly?) half-smirk. “Order from Wok Around The Clock for Mickey?”

Mickey eyed the guy, trying not to focus on the broad shoulders or the sculpted chest. “Yeah, I’m Mickey, but I didn’t order any shit from—” he cut himself off, gesturing towards the logo on the guy’s shirt, “there.”

He’d ordered from Wok Around The Clock plenty of times—usually, he went and picked it up himself—but he was never going to repeat that stupid fucking name out loud.

“Well, someone did, and they used your name and address.” The guy held up a brown paper bag that was stapled shut and spattered with grease. “You might as well take it. It’s just going to go to waste otherwise. And hey,” he joked, “free noods. Doesn’t everybody like those?”

Mickey stared at him.

The guy ducked his head. With his cap obscuring his eyes, Mickey just saw the slightly pink apples of his cheeks and a magnitude of freckles.

“It’s already paid for? Guess it would be foolish of me to pass up free grub,” he admitted, putting the Glock back onto the side table. He snatched the bag from the delivery guy’s fingers, peeking inside. “What’s in here?”

“Chow mein with extra beef, egg rolls, and Ian.”

Mickey’s brows furrowed. “The fuck is Ian?”

“My name. Thought you’d wanna know.”

What the fuck…?

Mickey’s head whipped up, and his face heated unexpectedly. “Why, you want a fuckin’ five-star review on your app or some shit? Already told you I didn’t order, man. I can’t do that.”

Why hadn’t he just slammed the door and started enjoying his free noods—noodles—already, damn it?

“No…” Ian laughed. He finally lifted his head, and the light caught his eyes. Green and sparkling with amusement.

If Mickey didn’t know better, he’d say Ian was checking him out, too. He was still wearing that half-smirk that was turning into a (more than friendly?) full smirk the longer Mickey looked at it.

But Mickey did know better. People didn’t do that to him. Guys didn’t do that to him. Especially not guys like… this. Attractive, tall, kinda alien-looking ones.

“I don’t need a review, but if you have any complaints, I can give you my number.”

Mickey let go of his towel in disbelief. It nearly dropped off his hips until he hastily grabbed it again with a scrunched fist. Ian’s eyes tracked the movement. “The fuck you just say?”

Had Mickey gotten water in his fucking ears that was disturbing his fucking hearing? Or…

“If you have any complaints—about the food, the service, anything—Wok Around The Clock would love to hear them,” Ian replied smoothly. He took a pen out of his pocket (like some fucking boy scout), uncapped it with his teeth, and wrote something down on the side of the bag that Mickey was still holding. “Or if you want to talk to us in person, we’re just… a wok around the block.” He winked.

Winked.

Mickey let it happen. The bad joke, the—the whatever this was. He was so flabbergasted that he had turned into a fucking statue.

Faced with Mickey’s silence, Ian finally started to look a bit sheepish. He capped his pen and slid it back into his jeans’ pocket. “Okay. Well, enjoy your meal. See ya.”

He ducked away before Mickey could pick his brain up off the floor, getting into a black pickup truck parked on the street. It growled to life, and he lifted his hand to wave at Mickey before speeding off.

Mickey stood there staring until one of his neighbors, Connie, walked by with her beagle and a little girl. Both the girl and beagle were on harness leashes, and Connie looked like she had gone one too many rounds with a tanning bed, all red and splotchy.

She stopped when she noticed him, yanking the leash straps and making the little girl squeal as she was pulled back. “Hey, Milkovich, nobody wants to see your tits! Go on back inside before you scar my neice with your pervert peep show.”

“Lookin’ at your overbaked lasagna of a face every day, I’m sure she’s already scarred for life, Ms. Hannigan,” Mickey said. He closed the door on her middle finger.

After he was dry and dressed, Mickey settled on his couch in front of the coffee table and took a few big, healthy shots from a bottle of whiskey to shake off some nerves he had no idea why he even had. Then, once sufficiently buzzed and relaxed, he started devouring the free food that was mysteriously his usual order—Chow mein with extra beef, egg rolls, and Ian.

Christ, Ian wasn’t part of his usual.

Weird fuckin’ guy.

Weird, big shoulders, perfect for hanging onto.

Weird, sweet face that was kinda nice to look at?

Mickey’s teeth clacked against his fork. He felt warmth creep up his neck as his eyes strayed from the TV playing an old Friends rerun to the handwritten phone number on the side of the bag.

468-7883

Call me ;)

Call him. Like hell Mickey would call him. And that fucking winky face. That was suspicious, right? Why was it there?

His rescue kitten, Lucifur, took the opportunity to swipe a packet of plum sauce from the table and start playing with it on the floor while he was distracted.

“You think he was hittin’ on me?” Mickey asked him.

It was possible but… unlikely. The guy hadn’t seemed fruity at all. Didn’t do any weird shit with his voice or hands. Not like any of the fags Mickey had ever come across. More like him. Like, regular.

Lucifur ignored him, continuing to roll around happily with the packet. Mickey leaned over to grab it from him before he tore a hole in it with his claws and got plum sauce everywhere. He got scratched for his trouble but headbutted a few seconds later.

“Little shit.” Mickey scooped him up and stroked him affectionately. “You don’t got any opinion on this?”

Lucifur closed his eyes and purred, his whole body vibrating. Mickey leaned back, and Lucifur walked up his chest, curling up in the crook of his neck. Mickey couldn’t prevent the soft smile that bloomed across his face. “Guess not.”

Between the booze, the full belly of food he now had, and the tiny black fluffball of doom warming him from the inside out, Mickey could have fallen right to sleep.

He unlocked his phone instead, pulling up his contact list and adding a new one. He named it Complaint Dept. and shot off a text before he could talk himself out of it.

Yo I got a complaint about my order

Not enough beef

He dropped his phone onto his chest without waiting for the Delivered message to show up.

On the TV, Chandler said, “Oh please, could she be more out of my league?”

“He ain’t out of my league. He’s a fuckin’ delivery boy,” Mickey argued, defensive for no reason and talking to the TV like a fucking psycho. He really needed to get out more.

Lucifur mrrr’d like he agreed with that thought, tucking a paw beneath the collar of Mickey’s shirt and extending his claws to knead Mickey’s collarbone. Mickey let out a curse at the pinpricks in his skin but didn’t stop their assault.

His phone lit up with a notification. Mickey tilted the screen towards his face.

Complaint Dept. (now)

Oh really? I’m sure I can fix that. How much beef do you need, Mickey?

Mickey snorted and tapped on the notif to open the message, semi-drunk fingers fumbling over the tiny keyboard. He started this shit. He might as well play along.

It was also a good sign (why?) that the guy immediately knew it was Mickey. That meant he wasn’t a fuck boy who hit on every Tom, Dick, and Harry that he delivered food to. Probably.

How much you got?

I’ll take it all

Delivered

If they were talking about what he thought they were talking about, he was like seventy-five percent sure now that they were flirting.

Most guys can’t take everything I’ve got. You sure you can?

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up. Okay, ninety-five percent sure.

Guys you been with sound like complete pussies

Delivered

That was probably a lie, too. Outside of porn, the majority of guys were less than average or average in the dick department. (Hell, Mickey included.) And the small handful of guys that Mickey had fucked had talked a big game, but when it came to actually whipping it out and performing… eh. Disappointing. In size and delivery. So much so that he’d actually stopped one mid-fuck and topped him instead.

He got a response a few minutes later. It was enough time for him to reach out for his pack of smokes on the coffee table and light one up, blowing the smoke away from Lucifur.

What are you doing right now?

Mickey bit his lip. Was that supposed to be a sexy question? Was Ian trying to sext with him or some shit? Should he send a picture of his dick?

“Nah, too desperate,” Mickey decided. No way was he about to give the guy a personal penis portrait to hang up in his bedroom.

He opened his camera app and reversed it, angling the lens above himself. He missed the shutter button on the first try and nearly dropped his phone on his fucking face, but he got it on the second try. All that was included in the shot was his chest, Lucifur, the lower half of his face with his cigarette caught between his smirking lips, and his left hand, middle finger aloft.

Chillin with this villain

No free nudes for you, sorry

Delivered

Mickey watched the screen. It didn’t take long for those three dots to start dancing.

I’ll take a hot guy with a kitten over a dick pic any day of the week.

Mickey’s stomach swooped, brows furrowing. Hot… Him? Nobody had ever called him that before. Dirty guy? Sure. Smelly guy? Definitely. But hot guy? That was fucking new. Slowly, his brows smoothed out, and a gay-ass smile spread across his face as he read the sentence a few (dozen) more times. He was glad not even Lucifur was awake to see this. Shit was embarrassing.

Ian asked him a few questions. The kitten’s name, where he got him, and if Mickey had any other pets. Mickey was baffled why the guy gave a fuck, but the whiskey was making him more open to conversation, so he answered and even asked one of his own.

You got any?

Delivered

A picture of a German shepherd popped up on his screen. Its upper half rested on what Mickey assumed was Ian’s lap, and its head was lifted towards the camera, tongue lolling out happily like it had just finished playing for hours. It wore a blue collar with a shiny gold tag, and an alligator-shaped chew toy was between its paws. A big, freckly hand was buried in its fur, in the middle of ruffling its ears.

My girl, Lyla. Retired military K-9 unit. Best dog in the whole country.

Well, shit. Mickey’s smile grew a little. Fact that Ian was an animal lover might’ve been attractive as hell. He ashed his cigarette in the tray and picked up the whiskey bottle.

Cute

Bet you spoil her to death

Delivered

Mickey looked at the picture some more. He could see a dusting of hair all over Ian’s corded forearm. Why were the visible veins in his hand kinda hot? The hair was orange-ish, coppery, too. He was a redhead. Fuckin’ hot. Mickey nearly spit out his whiskey when the next message appeared.

You wanna sit on my lap next? I could spoil you too.

Mickey swallowed wrong and coughed, putting the bottle back on the table and thumping his chest. Lucifur let out a mew of complaint as he was disturbed. Mickey’s heart went haywire as he reread the message. It was a dumb joke, he knew, but hell. Ian sure was shooting his shot.

Mickey could flirt back.

Sure you could

Delivered

Okay, maybe he couldn’t.

You don’t sound convinced. I can fix that too.

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting another whiskey-fueled blush. More like he didn’t know what the fuck to say.

Think you might be all bark

No bite

Delivered

A dog joke. Nice, Milkovich. Real flirtatious.

Oh, I bite. If you ask nice. Sometimes I even like it…ruff. 🦴️

Despite himself, Mickey laughed. What a fucking nerd.

Lucifur, having had enough of Mickey’s constant jostling, hopped off him, tiny tail flicking. He meowed demandingly until Mickey scooped him up by the belly and lowered him to the ground. Mickey watched Lucifur scamper to the kitchen, making sure the little idiot didn't brain himself on the corner of the wall, before focusing on his phone again.

The TV had already moved on to another sitcom. This time, a rerun of How I Met Your Mother was playing.

Do those awful fucking jokes ever get you any ass?

Delivered

The dots did their dance.

Only the coolest guys like my jokes. Are you cool, Mickey?

On the TV, Ted said, “Shouldn’t we hold out for the person who doesn’t just tolerate our little quirks but actually kinda likes them?”

Mickey pulled his lip into his mouth, grinning. He guessed he could stroke the dork’s ego. Just this once.

Coolest motherfucker you ever met

Delivered

Nothing happened on the screen for long enough that Mickey got up and cleared the coffee table, packing up his leftovers and putting them in the fridge for the next day. He noticed a lone fortune cookie in the bottom of the bag as he was about to crush it up and put it in the trash, so he fished it out.

He also refilled Lucifur’s kibble and replaced his water with some fresh stuff from the tap since the little guy was howling in front of his bowls like he hadn’t eaten in three goddamn years. Never mind he was only five months old and had eaten a can of wet food only two hours ago.

Mickey was a bit unsteady on his feet and just drunk enough that his dumb fucking smile was still plastered across his face as he cracked open the fortune cookie and unrolled the little piece of paper.

“The greatest risk is not taking one,” Mickey read out loud, smile disappearing. “You callin' me a coward, bitch?”

Great, now he was talking to fortune cookies.

His lucky numbers were…

4 6 8 7 88 3

That looked familiar. “You can’t be fucking serious!”

Mickey squinted, dropping the fortune and fumbling for his phone to double-check, but he nearly had a heart attack when he saw the notification waiting for him. His ass hit the couch again as his world went loopy.

Complaint Dept. (2 minutes ago)

Does that mean you’d agree to go out on a date with me?

…Ian, the delivery guy he’d just met, wanted to take him out on a date?

Not a hookup. Like, a real fucking date? With fuckin’ conversation and shit?

Mickey was not sober enough to answer that, but his fingers were moving before his brain could catch up.

Don’t really do dates

Delivered

Had never done it, was the truth. Not even with a woman. Not even with Svetlana.

What kinda date?

Delivered

He was out of his fucking mind. He shouldn’t have asked that.

The dots danced again.

We could go for a drink?

Or something sweet? I know a great ice cream place.

“Christ.” Mickey covered his face with his palms. His heart was racing like his dad was about to rise from the grave and burst through the door with an AK-47 pointed right at his head. Mickey peeked out between his fingers when his phone pinged five more times in quick succession.

But it’s okay!

If you don’t want to.

No pressure.

Though you will be missing out on some great comedy.

I have a whole arsenal of puns you still haven’t heard.

Over the years, Mickey had never talked to anyone like this. There was never an opportunity for someone to flirt with him or ask him out. He was short and to the point. None of his one-night stands had even made it to the morning. Out of his bed before the sun rose every time—if they even made it to his bed in the first place. Even chit-chat was kept to a minimum.

His door had been slammed shut and bolted with his back pressed hard against it, fueled by fear, since he was a teenager.

But maybe now it was finally open. Just a crack.

“Go to hell, you fuckin’ prick,” Mickey muttered, picturing Terry’s rage-filled face. His thumbs tapped out a message.

That’d be a shame

Won’t scream for it, but I do like ice cream

Delivered

You don’t have to scream for the ice cream.

But you might scream for me. ;)

Mickey sniffed, then blew out an amused snort. Fucking winky-faced cheesy fucker.

Yeah

Guess we’ll see about that

Delivered

#fic #gallavich #gallavich au #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #tw internalized homophobia #bad puns #flirting #meet cute

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anxresi · 11 months

Text

Brace yourselves, folks… We’re about to enter the dark, dreary and sometimes disturbing world which is Thomas Astruc on Twitter. 😧

Those possessed of a weak disposition, prone to nausea or an complete intolerance to utter bullshit may want to turn back now. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. (but still leave me a ‘like’, if you’re feeling generous 🙏)

Anyway, what ‘delights’ has this stand-up guy, this pioneer of mediocre cartooning, this dude on the cusp of arguing with little kids on Twitter been sharing with us, the great unwashed, at this present time? Let’s run through a brief checklist of the ‘highlights’, shall we?

*Telling people the upcoming Miraculous movie is what the fans ‘want’ but the show is what we ‘need’ (whatever THAT means, typically modest reaction from the epitome of humbleness himself).

*Saying that anyone who DARES criticise the show should ‘keep it to themselves’ or they’ll be ‘blocked for spreading negativity about the artists’ (dude thinks he can police Twitter… good luck with that!)

*Informing fanfiction writers that their work is ‘pointless’ and the only people who know what they’re doing are him and his team (If you mean ‘How To Destroy A Franchise In Five Easy Seasons… I guess he’s right)

But his favorite topic (seriously, check out his replies… we’re talking more than 50% here) concerns a fictional teenage girl he constantly decries but can’t seem to get enough of moaning about. It is of course… oh let’s face it. You know the answer to that one already. ROLL THE TWEETS!!

Yep, you guessed it. Apart from the OP being uncommonly accurate in their opinion, now apparently ‘Chloe’ has become The Not-So-Great Bearded One’s new insult of choice for anyone who dislikes what’s been done to the show. Poor ‘Karen’ never stood a chance… 😢

What a mature, grown-up type chap he is! I have no idea why he’s no longer referred to as ‘Hawk Daddy’ in polite circles, and instead called ‘Man Baby’. Just look at him, REALLY giving it a bunch of teens on Twitter who DARE imply his show is nothing but da best! You go, Thomas! Go change your dirty diaper, that is. 🤢

So, abandoning all her subtleties and nuance , reducing her to a shrieking monster and choosing to actively give characters who have arguably done FAR WORSE throughout the series much better endings means they ‘wrote it well’? Gosh, maybe getting an F in English stands for ‘Fabulous’ after all!

Guess in Thomas’s somewhat warped worldview, everyone who doesn’t like 💯 of his show from top to bottom should be placed on a plane with their main abuser to be forcibly deported and probably tortured for the rest of their sorry lives. That’ll teach them!

And who cares about stupid stuff like ‘build-up’ or ‘character-development’ if they genuinely were preparing Chloe for… what was that thing he described it as again… a ‘damnation’ arc? Let’s just flip a switch at the end of S3 to turn her into a pathetic caricature of her worst excesses without explanation, then introduce a ‘perfect’ sister out of nowhere to throw all those undesirable traits into sharp relief! And that’s not even getting into that detestable retconning flashback episode… What an absolutely fantastic idea to make everyone hate her as much as Thomas does!

No-one will notice the sudden incongruity here… after all, the average age of their audience is 5-8 so if they just throw excrement like crazed baboons about Chloe at the young audience time and time again caveman-style CHLOE: BAD. EVERYONE ELSE: GOOD the kids will chow it up like cheap chocolate ice cream! The older ones that do kick up a fuss? Who gives a ****. They don’t buy the merchandise, and where would all those hard-working producers if it wasn’t for all that cheap plastic crap?

With considerably less cars, swimming pools and exotic holidays to hard-to-pronounce destinations, that’s where! Let’s keep that bandwagon of shit a-rollin’… 🤑

Ah, now I believe this is that classic tactic otherwise known as ‘gaslighting’. When you say something as a fact over and over again, when the opposite is clearly true. Those of lesser willpower may start to accept it as reality while others (mostly those with functioning eyes, ears and brains)… won’t.

You know who was also good at that gaslighting thing, don’t you? A few clues… A Former (thank God) President? Very orange? Initials DT? Yep, that guy.

…And coincidentally, someone Thomas has been known to compare Chloe (14 year old girl, let’s not forget) to regularly. I mean, with THAT kind of accolade hanging over her head from the guy who created her, how could she ever fail?

See? What a great influence he is on the young too! Now he’s got his own handpicked gang of sycophants out of the street labelling anyone with the slightest complaint from a)pointing out the animation was slightly better last season or b)saying they miss the old transformation sequences as a ‘Chloe’. I think we’ve found his new favorite insult, and it’s the worst word he can possibly think of. Figures.

I bet he’s putting together a petition as we speak, for an official entry into the dictionary. Fortunately, there’s already one for ‘Thomas’, as in ‘Doubting Thomas’… someone who talks so much nonsense you should disbelieve anything they say. Or Thomas The Tank Engine, because whenever you mention a certain Blonde’s name in his presence, he tends to blow steam, look very heated and… you get the picture. 😆

On top of everything else, now he’s issuing threats. I have to hand it to him though… that’s a pretty good one. NO PLEASE TAKE MY MONEY MY LIFE I’LL EVEN GIVE YOU A FOOT RUB A BACK RUB AND LEARN TO LOVE ZOE ANYTHING BUT THAT NNNNNNOOOOOO….

Seriously guys, we need an immediate intervention. THIS CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. I’m about to book an emergency flight to France, to barricade him in his office until he promises to never again even entertain the notion of… this. Who’s with me?

(And incidentally while I’m there, does anyone want me to pick them a souvenir? A beret? Frog legs soup? One of those miniature replicas of the Eiffel Tower? Let me know by tomorrow at the latest, and I’ll see what I can do) 😊🇫🇷

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ladybug #chloe bourgeois #ml salt #disney #ml #zag #ml leaks #thomas astruc #aah that felt good

124 notes · View notes

vampireghostlawyer · 6 months

Text

extremely niche and superficial pet peeve but i cannot stand when other americans have to make a show out of being confused/shocked/whatever by ambrosia or watergate salad or snickers salad or anything of that kind.

"i've NEVER seen this in my life and im american" i do not believe that for one second. you've never been to a potluck?? you've never had a class party? you've never been to a block party? or an old folks home??? like. they're not even shocking ingredients. it's almost always just sweet things in a dairy and/or jelly?? like honestly people from outside the US being annoying about american food is one thing, but i get that they might not have seen it before. but AMERICANS acting like snickers salad or any other old lady potluck staple is so terrifying and earth shattering makes my blood boil like . WHY are you pretending. it's like the kids who would shriek and make retching sounds in middle school when someone said the word "moist." like this is all clearly a charade for attention. why are you doing it.

porbably the same americans who claim to not know what puppy chow is , even though it's available in every gas station across america.

does it bother anyone else that as of late, it's so much harder to find slushies in midwest gas stations. when i was a child every single place had them and they were light and fluffy and never too strong and now when you go to kwik trip or most locally owned stations, it's always that very hard, sloppy, and pungent kind.

see? they are different. on the left, your mouth will be cut by the blades and the juice too sour and on the right, it is like sucking on a cloud. this is not the only change they've made, sources say.

no logner do they carry arizona iced tea cans, it is always the bottles. the bottles are 1.99 while the cans .99 so this is possibly a marketing ploy or some sort of trick. it has become more difficult to buy the large jugs of arizona as well. in 2022, i would buy four or five at a time in some cases, and now i brew my own tea because the atargets have made it increasingly difficult to find these tea. '

but this is not the most egregious of their offenses. the most of all is that the suare microwave yakisoba is nowehere to be found. when you go to the store, the options you are greeted with, the ramen that waves and smiles at you so sinisterly is only the cup. the cup canot be microwaved !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what use to me is an easy meal that requires a pote on the stope. it means nothing to me.

the suare yakisoba was microwavelle . simply remove the flavor packets and wrapping and microwave for four minutes with water. i did this every day for years. now, it is gone. gone from my sight and my grasp but never my memory.

i've googled a plethora of times trying to decipher when and if this is a choice, if they were discontinued but it seems this is just the plight of my circumstances because i have no information. just now

just now i've learned they are actually available on amazon.

#clem.txt

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saltiness-is-my-love-language · 27 days

Note

Hey! I love your art and blog! I'm glad your writing for DST AND I humbly request Wilson x a more modern y/n please and thanks chow!

Don't Starve Together (Wilson x Modern GN! Reader)

✿ You probably met when you first fell into the world and were to busy trying to get your phone to work that you didn't see him sneak up.

✿ You join his team and start working together to survive the constant. There are other members, but it seemed he wanted to hang out with you more and ask questions about future technology.

✿ Wilson will steal your phone to try and look at it to see how it works. But if you catch him he'll give it back. Makes you a charger and power source so he can look and use it again.

✿ Will ask you many questions about the future and write it all down in his journal. Imagine sitting by the fire and he plops down next to you and asks about the government/economy and the latest scientific improvements.

✿ Blown off his feet when you talk about Coivd. He probably lived through his own plunge but to hear how it started and how you all dealt with it will amaze him.

✿ Once you start dating he'll ask more personal questions like what you want to be or what was your family like.

✿ Remember that even if they seem like simple questions he comes from a different time so some of your answers may surprise him.

✿ Questions some of your fashion statements, sometimes he forgets he's from a different time and gets annoyed when you ask him why he talks differently or dresses silly.

✿ If you show up in the constant with different food from our time he'll become your personal taste tester. Want to try them all and copy the recipes. If he (which is just Warly) makes it right he'll rush over to show you and have you taste it yourself asking if it's just like from your time.

✿ When it's a slow day and you two are doing nothing, you'll talk about your different slang from both sides. Even laugh over some of them and make personal inside jokes.

✿ Find your life exciting and weird and is happy to learn more about it, but sad that when you all get out you'll be sent back to your own periods.

O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O○◯○O

(I have some art block right now, so when I get around I'll post the photo. Heads up I might stop posting photos with headcanons because I just don't have the time.)

#ds x reader #dst #dst x reader #ds #don't starve together #don't starve #don't starve together x reader #don't starve x reader #don't starve together Wilson x reader

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footprintsinthesxnd · 11 months

Text

The Good Die Young

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Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+. Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this. Special thanks to the lovely Fern @desert-fern for proofreading this chapter for me.

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Melbourne, January 1943

Jovial music filled the air, dancing over the way of American soldiers as the ship docked in Melbourne. The local band was playing music standing, their big bass drum booming loudly over the noise of the crowd. Women, children and boys too young to fight and men too old to fight lined the streets, cheering, flags waving frantically as the soldiers disembarked. Jake had never seen such a welcome. It was a welcome sight after the horrors of Guadalcanal.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Johnny barked, letting out a loud shout as he joined in, waving to a group of young boys on their bikes following behind the trucks.

The trucks lurched and groaned under the weight of the troops as the convoy pulled to a stop outside the large red cricket stadium. The men were ordered to disembark, collecting the few possessions they had and their kit bags before forming orderly queues and following the Commanding Officer up the steps towards the light. The men bumped and shoved each other, each one vying for first in a race unknown to them all. Jake was slammed into one of the metal railings, hissing as his ribs made contact with the cold, rigid bar, sending sparks through his chest

Jake shielded his eyes from the bright sunshine as he entered the vomitorium, his eyes landing on his fellow Marines, all taking their seats on small beds on the bleachers.

“Welcome to Camp Murphy,” the CO began, talking through the megaphone that he’d somehow acquired. “Stay with your Company, pick a bed and drop your belongings. Chow is in an hour. You are not permitted to leave the stadium without a pass or unless you are instructed to do so by a senior officer.”

Jake found an empty bed and threw down his kit bag, sighing loudly and stretching his aching back. George sat down on the bed next to him while Frank, Johnny and Edward all followed suit. Johnny fell face-first onto his cot with a loud groan, pulling the pillow over his head to block out the wall of noise that surrounded them all. “I could sleep for a year.”

Frank let out a muffled laugh, pulling the cigarette from the corner of his mouth. “So you’re telling me that later when we all disperse into town in the cover of darkness, you won’t come with us.”

Johnny peeked out from behind his pillow. “Will there be alcohol?” He asked, his voice small and filled with a childlike wonder.

“Obviously,” Frank retorted, causing the others to laugh as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Then count me in.” Johnny sat up, rubbing his eyes as if he’d woken from a long sleep.

Once the MPs had cleared out of the main cricket ground, the Marines flooded the streets of Melbourne, most headed to the local bars, some went into shops and a few even went down to the movie theatre. The boys of How Company found the nearest pub and vowed to drink to their heart's content. Jake joined in watching as Johnny and Frank poured every possible alcohol into a glass and downed it in one, their faces contorting comically at the bitter taste. George sat in the corner nursing his beer while Edward was talking to the pretty young barmaid. Jake finished his beer and stood slowly, “I’m going to have a wander around, see what’s about?” The comrades barely acknowledged him, too consumed in their next round of alcohol.

“I’d go with you but I think someone needs to make sure that none of them die.” George joked, motioning to Johnny and Frank as they continued sampling the spirits.

“That’s probably for the best,” Jake agreed, nodding at his friend before turning to make his way outside.

Jake took a deep breath as he stepped out of the stuffy, smokey bar, the clean air filling his lungs and the warm afternoon sun on his face caused a smile to grace his lips. It had been warm in Guadalcanal, hot even with a humid sticky feeling that caused you to sweat buckets, even at night and the incessant buzzing of the mosquitoes ever-present, but here the warmth was different. Somehow it reminded him of home, the sunshine filling his body with vigour and warmth that it hadn’t had since the day he shipped out to the Pacific. He began walking aimlessly down Main Street, his feet carrying him along the line of shops, passing fruit stalls, clothing shops, and the hardware store. Jake almost felt like he was at home, he’d often give his mother a lift to town, helping her carry the groceries back to the car. As Jake rounded the corner, he came face to face with a young woman on a bike, the brakes screeched to a halt and the young woman fell forward off her bike. Jake lunged forward, catching her before she collided with the pavement.

“East there ma’am, you should watch where you're going.” Jake smiled down at her as she glared up at him. Easing herself quickly from his arms, she huffed and straightened her dress. “Get your hands off me, Yank!” She exclaimed, her accent British and her mannerisms causing Jake to laugh at the light blush that formed on her already rosy cheeks.

“You’re very welcome, ma’am, anytime.” Jake gave her a mock salute and his sarcastic tone infuriated her more when she groaned. Jake hadn’t noticed the papers that litter the street until she bent down, scooping them up quickly as the wind began to flutter them away.

“Here let me help you,” Jake bent down helping gather up the loose papers. Looking down at the paper he noticed the familiar layout and fonts.

“You work for a newspaper?” He asked a crooked smile forming on his lips as he handed the papers back to her.

“And what is it to you?” She glared at him again. Jake couldn’t help but notice that despite her aggravation towards him that she was very striking.

“Well I used to work for a newspaper back home before I joined the Marine Corps,” Jake explained, noticing a small flicker of a smile gracing her lips before it disappeared again.

“Well good for you but you’ve made me late. Good day, Soldier.”

“It’s Corporal ma’am, I recently got promoted actually.” She squinted at him, her forehead wrinkling in confusion as if the information was meant to mean something to her. Jake watched helplessly as she climbed back onto her bicycle, securing the papers in the basket before peddling away without a second glance.

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The bar was crowded, smoke filling the air as the ambient glow cast shadows over the men in uniform who filled tables and chairs throughout the vicinity. A bartender with rolled-up sleeves moved from one end of the counter to the other, sliding drinks along the wooden top. Some of the men occupied the wooden stools along the counter, while others crowded around the darts board. A cacophony of laughter filled the dark corners of the room. Jake smiled jovially, balancing the beers on the wooden tray as he approached the group.

Several of the men were singing loudly and out of tune to ‘An Angel in Disguise’ while one of them played the piano. Each man had his arm around a pretty girl, all smiling enthusiastically up at the soldiers.

“This rounds on me,” he called out, earning a cheer from his fellow Marines.

“I knew I like this guy,” Johnny spoke up, taking a sip of the golden liquid and wiping the foam moustache away with the back of his hand.

“Alright Short Ass, stop being such an ass kisser,” Johnny called out, puffing up his chest in a desperate attempt to make himself taller. Frank just shook his head, a crooked smile gracing his lips.

“Hey Cowboy, did you see those girls at the bar, they keep looking our way?” George mused, coming to stand beside his friend. Jake turned casually, his eyes raking over the many figures until he made eye contact with her.

“Shit!” Jake hissed under his breath, averting his gaze in a desperate attempt to avoid further conflict.

“What?” George asked, standing on his tiptoes to try and see what Jake had.

“It’s the girl from earlier, the one I bumped into and know she wants to murder me.”

George threw his head back in a fit of laughter. “You’re fuckin’ with me right? You’re scared of her! Jake, you’re a fucking Marine and she’s just a woman.”

“Exactly!” Jake exclaimed, “They are very dangerous if you get on the wrong side of them.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m not having you being terrified of a girl.” George stood up, abandoning the beautiful woman beside him who looked rather put out and strolled towards the woman at the bar. Jake couldn’t bear to watch, turning away from his friend to try and preserve what little dignity he had left.

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(Y/n) grinned through red lips at her friends, Fern and Johanna, who were desperately trying to recount the US Marines arrival from that morning. Fern’s lips moved a million miles an hour while (Y/n) humoured her, sipping her whiskey neat as she kept up with the story. Fern, Johanna, and (Y/n) had been friends since she first moved to Melbourne and couldn’t find her way to the local newspaper. They had been willing to volunteer and the rest was history.

“Have you noticed that group of Marines over there, they keep looking at us,” Fern whispered, trying to point towards the group of soldiers without making it too obvious. “That blond one certainly has eyes for you.”

“I like the dark-haired tall one,” Johanna mused, biting her lip seductively.

(Y/n) turned round to look and let out a small groan, burying her face in her palm as she spotted the blond Marine. “Not him, anyone but him.”

“Come on, stop being so picky. There is a bar full of extremely attractive Marines and you're still being picky.” Fern protested, placing her glass on the bar to grip her friend's shoulders. “Just give them a chance. Please.”

“Fine,” (Y/n) signed, throwing her head back and downing the rest of her drink.

“Good because one of them is coming our way.”

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It turned out that George was quite charming and although he informed them he was off the market, he did encourage the three girls to join their group for the evening. Everything was going smoothly so Jake took it upon himself to try and talk to the mystery girl that had been occupying his thoughts.

“So… how are you feeling, Sweetheart?” Now even Jake would admit that he was probably coming on a little strong but with the amount of alcohol he’d consumed he honestly wasn’t surprised.

“I was doing just fine until you appeared,” she retorted, glaring at him. Jake nodded slowly letting out an amused chuckle as he watched her friend elbow her and hiss something in her ear.

“I'm doing just fine, thank you,” she corrected herself and sent Jake a pleasant smile.

Jake nodded, “I'm pleased to hear that.”

As the evening progressed, the longing looks and fleeting touches between the pair grew to an unbearable tension. Jake could feel the sweat trickling down his back and began to pull at the collar of his uniform, desperate for the feeling of the soft evening breeze hitting his sweat-drenched flesh. He let out a soft huff as he felt a hand tapping his shoulder, he was pleasantly surprised when he came face to face with his mystery lady.

“Do you play?” She cocked her head to the side, letting her hair fall gracefully from her shoulder as she thrust several darts towards him, cocking her eyebrow as she waited for a response.

“Sure,” Jake replied, puffing up his chest. “As long as you don't mind losing.”

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“If I win, the next round for the entire bar is on you.”

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed slightly but his poker face remained stoic.

“Alright, but if I win I get to take you on a date,” a mischievous smirk sprung across his lips as he looked down at her. She blushed, averting her gaze to her shoes.

“You want to take me on a date? Why?” (Y/n) couldn’t understand why he of all people wanted her, why did he find her so interesting.

“Well, aren’t you just the most beautiful woman in all of Melbourne.”

She blushed furiously, “Well I don’t know about that,” her voice shook and she struggled to meet his eyes.

“To me you are.”

He was shamelessly flirting with you, all the Marines flirted with the women, you also knew that a lot of them just wanted sex and nothing more but Jake seemed different. Yes, he was charismatic, handsome and charming but he had a sort of edge to him that others didn’t. He was different and there was something behind those blue eyes that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

She nodded her head slowly, “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal, Corporal.” He took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“Well then little lady, you got yourself a deal,” Jake stood slightly taller now, eyes shining brightly as he grinned at you as if he’d already won the bet.

Luckily for you, Jake did win. The more you thought about his offer of a date throughout the evening the more you realised you were rooting for him to win, throwing the darts with little force, using your left hand instead of your right, you’d never been one to let others win but Jake had awoken something in you, even when you felt like he was the worst man on earth.

To say Jake was feeling smug that he won would be the understatement of the century, his face erupted into a wide grin, eyes shining brightly. He slung his arm around her shoulder, “Well Little Lady, looks like you owe me a date.”

“It looks like I do,” (Y/n) stood up swiftly, “but I must be going now, I have an early start tomorrow.” (Y/n) found herself hurrying quickly to the door, desperate to get away from Jake before she did something she might regret. She felt him running after her, hearing the odd complaint as he pushed past other Marines to get through the crowd to her. (Y/n) reached the door, hurrying out into the cool, evening air, she let out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding, feeling her hands begin to shake a little at the restraint she had shown. (Y/n) didn’t know what to do, she had never felt this way about anyone before.

“HEY! HEY!” The all too familiar voice called from behind her, loud footsteps echoing on the quiet street. “Hey wait up.”

(Y/n) stopped abruptly, turning herself round and hurrying towards Jake. She grabbed hold of his shirt, yanking him harshly towards her and cashing their lips together. Jake let out a surprised squeak that caused her to smile into the kiss before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her impossibly close. (Y/n) had always thought it was ridiculous to think people saw fireworks when they kissed but the fireworks that erupted inside her stomach provided the theory right. Her hand wove its way into Jake’s short hair, tugging it gently.

When they eventually pulled apart Jake’s lips were swollen and smudged with red lipstick, his chest heaving from his effort.

“Goodnight, Corporal,” (Y/n) whispered, her lips brushing against his once more before she pulled away, her legs carrying her quickly down the now-silent Main Street.

“Hey, when can I see you again?” Jake hollered after her, his voice echoing down the dimly lit street. “You promised to go on a date with me.”

She turned sharply on her heels, her red lips creeping into a wicked smirk. “I said I’d go on a date with you, I never said when though.” She laughed as she turned back around, continuing the short walk to her house. Jake groaned in frustration. How could one woman have such an effect on him?

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#jake hangman seresin #marine corps #ww2 marines #jake seresin x reader #the good die young #ww2 #ww2 jake seresin #jake seresin #the pacific

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