TONIGHT

🌗✨TONIGHT ✨🌗

Shame @staff

thought they needed a little reminder that they still have far more to lose if they double down on this stupidity. spread the word, it seems they're... very forgetful about this.

YESSSSSSSSS ❤️💋❤️💋💋❤️ tysm V

punishment

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You drag your boyfriend to your best friend’s annual Halloween party and get brave after a couple of drinks—it’s not like Joel’s really going to punish you while all of your friends are under the same roof, right?

*possible dubcon, see note after tags.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. HALLOWEEN FIC, no outbreak AU. non canon Joel. ESTABLISHED CONSENSUAL BDSM DYNAMIC. (TWs) daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, dom Joel who has a firm hand (literally) but he does provide some gentle aftercare after punishment. self indulgent age gap, reader is in her mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but please tweak it to your imaginations. alcohol, candy, food, reader dresses up as Belle, Joel is a kind of a party pooper who doesn’t dress up as Beast. Grumpy-ish Joel, reader is a little bit of a brat but not over the top bratty, harsh spanking (reader gets spanked 3x in the fic) brief aftercare in the form of cuddles, petnames (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, princess, y’know because of her costume ha, little one is used like once in the fic) SMUT; fingeing, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) very quick fuck, creampie, Joel and reader fuck on her best friend’s bed (oops).

*the reason i say possible is because reader does drink at the party, it’s stated she sobers up a bit by the time they get to the bedroom. i would rather just put this warning JUST IN CASE. it was something i realized completely on my own and i want to be as careful and honest as i can.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i’m gonna throw up. so first thing is first, i edited the tags as i saw appropriate. i took out soft dom, i added harsh to the spanking, and clarified that it is an established bdsm dynamic and it is consensual. i also added dubcon. this was out of my own volition as i realized reader does consume alcohol and at this point i feel like i’m being monitored so let’s be safe, yeah?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this is not your cup of tea please just scroll by. if even a hint of any warning raises a red flag for you, please do not read.

this fic in my head is from the strawberry universe and you can read the fic here to get a sense of their dynamic. you don’t have to, and you don’t have to associate the two but i do.

Joel leans against the wall, lips pursed together as he glances around and takes in his surroundings.

He feels so out of place—he looks so out of place.

He knew he’d stick out like a sore fucking thumb.

How could he not?

He’s surrounded by nothing but a bunch of twenty something year olds dressed in costume—not that normal attire would have made a difference. Joel’s twice the age of everybody in that goddamn room and he wouldn’t have fit in no matter the occasion. But for as uncomfortable as he feels, he is sucking it up for one reason, and one reason only—making his sweet girl happy.

Joel lifts his bottle of beer to his lips, taking a swig of the cheap domestic lager that tasted as awfully watered down as he’d imagined it would. His deep brown eyes follow you as you float about the party with your best friend, Maddie, arm in arm. He isn’t trying to be overprotective, after all, you’re among friends you’ve known since high school, hell some of them you grew up with on the same block when you’d been a child. Still, he’s already noticed some wandering male gazes, which he half expected the moment that he’d first seen your costume back at his place.

“Where’s your costume?” he’d asked you from the bottom of the staircase as you appeared at the top of it wearing bone-crushingly tight yellow corset—the thin, matching satin skirt fell above the middle of your thighs, showing off your soft, smooth legs; even from a distance he could see you had dusted them, along with every other inch of exposed skin, in the body glitter he had something of a love-hate relationship with. He loved it on you, but hated the way it would get all over him, how it would take an entire week’s worth of showers for it to come off—how the idiots at work would give him shit and ask him if he’d spent the night fucking Tinkerbell.

“Um, this is my costume,” you’d replied with a tiny grin, waving around the single long-stemmed rose in your hand. You had completed your outfit with a pair of white, ruffle ankle socks and five inch heels that you could only pray to the heavens above that you would last the whole night in without breaking a bone. “I told you I was going as Belle, Joel. Don’t you remeber?”

Of course he remebered, because you had wanted him to go as Beast. He’d put his foot down then.

“Funny, I don’t remember her showin’ off so much skin in the movie,” he remarked as you descended the stairs towards him. Throat bobbing, he tried to keep a straight face. He couldn’t fucking deny you looked so heart stoppingly gorgeous. “Sweetheart I ain’t all too fuckin’ comfortable lettin’ you out like this. You’re showin’ off way too much. Besides, it’s fuckin’ sixty degrees tonight. S’too damn cold and the last thing I want is you gettin’ sick—”

Joel had stopped when you made it to the bottom of the staircase. He bit back a groan when you put both hands on his chest and looked up at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes that always got him good.

“Daddy.”

The word had fallen from your plush, gloss-slicked lips, sweet like honey.

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m going to have you to keep me safe tonight.” Fingers splayed over the soft fabric of his plaid brown flannel, your eyes met his and you added, “And warm, too.”

“S’that right, little one?” he’d rasped.

“Mhm. Safe and warm, just like you always do.”

Jesus fuckin’ Christ.

Oh, how easily you did him in, especially whenever you called him Da—

Joel’s train of thought is broken when he notices a younger blond man dressed as a baseball player in a corner, drinking with his buddies. He isn’t paying attention to his friends, though. His eyes are glued to you, glazing over every inch of you from head to toe as you stand nearby with Maddie and a couple other of your girlfriends, sucking on a lollipop.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Joel saunters through the crowd of party goers and over toward you and your friends. Without hesitation, he slides his free hand around your waist, biting back a little smirk when he sees the look of disappointment on the younger man’s face from his peripheral vision.

“Hi Joel,” the the girls coo at him, giggling.

He gives them a subtle nod hello. “Ladies.”

“Excuse me, but where is your costume?” Maddie, who is donning black lingerie and matching wings on her back, reaches out and pokes his chest. “It’s a Halloween party! You’re supposed to dress up!”

“That’s what I told him,” you say, pulling the candy out of your mouth with a pop. “But nooo, he didn’t wanna listen to me because he’s a party pooper!”

Joel catches the way your words slur together just a little bit, enough to let him know it’s time for him to get you to start drinking some water, instead of the fruit flavored alcohol in your plastic red cup. “I did dress up,” he states, gesturing with his beer to his flannel. “Came dressed up as a lumberjack.”

“You’re broad enough to fit the part,” Maddie says with a wink, touching his bicep. “Isn’t he, girls? So broad and big and strong—”

You glare at her. “I’m standing right here, Mads—I would appreciate it if you don’t flirt with him right in front of me. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Better than behind your back babe,” she quips as she brushes the rose you’d brought to the party as part of your costume against the tip of your nose.

Annoyed, you snatch it out of her hand.

“Alright, alright,” Joel steps in just as you’re about to open your mouth to respond. “S’cuse us, ladies. We’ll be over here for a minute.” He pulls you away over to the refreshment table near the kitchen. He sets down his beer and then takes your plastic cup from you, putting it down beside his bottle. After a minute, he finds the plastic bottles of water on the edge of the table and grabs one, twisting the cap. “Here,” he says, handing it to you.

“I don’t want water,” you wrinkle your nose at it.

“Y’need water. Don’t want you gettin’ too drunk.”

“But it’s party!”

“Baby listen to me. I want you to drink water,” Joel says, holding the bottle out to you.

Refusing to take it you, you lift your lollipop, giving it a seductive lick. “You can’t boss me around. Not here, Joel.” You innocently bat your eyes at him. “I don’t have to listen to you tonight.”

Joel calmly puts the cap back on the bottle before putting it down. “Is that so, darlin’?”

Confidently, you nod, humming, “Mhm.”

He leans down and presses his lips to your ear, the scruff of his beard ticking your cheek. “Baby, don’t you think for one second that I’m afraid to put you in your place here at your friend’s party. You’d best stop actin’ like a little brat.” He pulls away and lifts his hand, yanking your lollipop out of your mouth. Dropping it into the table, he adds, “And don’t you dare try and test me. You understand, little girl?”

Smiling, you give your rose a delicate sniff.

“I don’t think you’ll do a damn thing to me here.”

He knows it’s the alcohol talking. He knows.

But that doesn’t stop Joel from wrapping his hand around your wrist. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You had sobered up slightly by the time you found yourself being pulled into the first bedroom on the left at the stop of the staircase. Maddie’s room—if Joel looked out of place downstairs, up here in the pink and white bedroom, he looked even more out of place. “Joel, what the hell are you doing?”

Joel says nothing.

He locks the door and then stalks over toward the foot of the full-sized bed where he takes a seat on the pink floral duvet. He pats his lap and finally, he speaks, his tone calm but serious. “C’mere.”

Your heart skips a beat or two. “Huh?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Now.”

Bewildered, you simply stand there.

He’s going to do this here? In Maddie’s room?

While she and all your friends are downstairs?

Nerves set in, but so does another sensation.

Excitement.

“Joel—”

“Don’t make Daddy tell you again, darlin’.”

Somehow, wobbly legs and all, you make it over to him and he pulls you down, draping you across his lap. He lifts the satin skirt of your costume up over your ass and you can feel the way he freezes when he realizes you’re not wearing panties underneath. His cock twitches against your belly and there is a part of him that wants to forget the discipline, just let you get away with your behavior and throw you onto the bed so he can fuck you senseless. But he somehow resists the urge.

“Daddy, I’m sorry for being a brat—”

“S’too late, baby. I told you not to test me and you did.”

“But Dadd—” Your own yelp cuts you off when his large hand delivers a swift, harsh strike to your ass without warning. Dropping your rose, you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your hands into tight fists. Your heart’s pounding, and the adrenaline courses through your veins. The first blow wasn’t so bad, it was the two that followed that always brought you to tears. “Daddy, I’m sorry!”

Joel kneads the spot where he’d spanked you with his rough, calloused fingers and tsks in response. “I warned you. Shoulda listened to me, darlin’.”

He lifts his arm over his head, pauses, and then he brings it down, smacking the same tender spot.

Thankfully, the music downstairs is loud enough—no one can hear the cry that rips from the back of your throat. Hot tears begin to well up in your eyes and you blink them back furiously.

“Betcha regret testin’ me, don’t you, princess?”

Your mind can barely register the new pet name.

“I—yes. I do, I really, really do. I’m really sorry.”

Joel rubs his palm over your ass, eliciting a painful groan from you—it’s raw and it hurts. It’s taking all the strength you have in you not to squirm, or else you’ll earn yourself an additional strike.

“One more darlin’ and you’re done. Alright?”

All you can do is nod and brace yourself for it.

Joel’s hand comes down on you for the last time.

You cover your mouth with your hands, muffling a scream that the music downstairs isn’t quite loud enough to hide.

Joel comes back into Maddie’s room with a bottle of water in his hand. He finds you pacing back and forth and knows you’re afraid to sit down because you’re sore.

There’s a small part of him that almost feels bad.

Almost.

He only ever disciplines you when it’s necessary.

When you need guidance.

He doesn’t do it for fun or for pleasure.

No. Joel does it because he wants you to become the best version of yourself while under his care.

“C’mere sweetheart,” he beckons for you with one motion of his free hand as he sits down at the foot of the bed once again. Taking your hand, he gently seats you on his lap. With his arms around you, he twists the cap off the bottle and then lifts it. “Here baby, want you to drink,” he murmurs, putting the mouth to your lips. He watches you take a few sips and praises, “That’s a good girl. Little more, now.”

Once he’s satisfied with the amount you’ve had to drink, Joel puts the cap back onto the water bottle and sets it aside before wrapping you in his arms.

“Did so well with your punishment, baby. M’proud of you,” he says, pressing a kiss into your hair.

Melting into his broad chest, you sigh contentedly and murmur, “Thank you, Daddy.”

For a while, he just holds you and assures you over and over again how good you did for him, tells you how proud he is of you for handling discipline even through the discomfort and the pain. He tells you how much he loves you.

Lifting your head off his shoulder, you utter a quiet “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Earlier you called me something—something you have never called me before.”

The creases between his brows deepen. “I did?”

“Mhm.” Shyly, you nod. “You called me princess.”

Joel clicks his tongue. “I s’ppose I did call you that name,” he muses with an amused chuckle. “Guess the costume made me think of it.” He notices your eager smile, the glimmer in your eyes and he grins at you. “Did’ya like it when I called you that?”

“Yes.”

He places a hand on your thigh.

“Yes, what?”

His touch causes your breath to hitch.

“Yes, Daddy,” you breath out.

He leans forward, brushing your mouth with a kiss so soft and tender thst a pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest.

“My princess,” he murmurs huskily before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a bite.

The arousal pools between your legs and your first instinct is to squeeze them together. He notices.

Joel pulls his mouth away from yours, just ever so slightly, and drags his hand further up your leg. He skims the hem of your skirt with his fingertips.

“Couldn’t help but notice,” he starts, his voice low, husky, “That you ain’t wearin’ any panties tonight. S’there a reason why? Can you tell Daddy why you left the house with nothin’ under this pretty skirt?”

Heat floods your face, pooling in your cheeks. “I—I was just thinking about later. After the party, when we got home.”

He smirks. “Didn’t wanna waste time or what?” He nudges your thighs apart with his hand and slips it between them. Skimming your jawline with the tip of his nose, he runs his index finger up your damp slit, lightly grazing your clit. “Christ, my sweet girl. You’re fuckin’ soakin’ for me already.”

Moaning, you reach for a fistful of his flannel, heat blazing in your lower belly.

“What is it, baby? What d’ya want?” Joel asks. He drags his finger down your cunt and then back up. “You want Daddy’s fingers? Hm?”

You nod almost frantically. “Yes, please.”

“Where do you want ‘em?”

You buck your hips forward into his hand in reply.

“Use your words, princess. S’only way to get what you want.”

“I want them inside me, Daddy. I need them inside of my pussy, please—”

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel kisses your temple and slips one finger inside of your throbbing cunt, followed by a second. Your head lulls back and you arch back in his lap as you adjust to the delicious stretch of his thick digits.

His mouth latches onto your exposed neck and he nips at the delicate flesh with his teeth.

“Fuck,” you moan when you feel his fingers curl to hit that soft spongy spot within your walls. “Daddy please, I want more. Need—need more—”

“Such a needy little girl, aint’cha darlin’? Always so needy for Daddy?” He says into your collarbone as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Yes, yes, yes—fuck that feels so good—”

He slides his fingers out of your core and starts to rub slow, but firm circles around your clit. With his cock straining against the zipper of his denim blue jeans, Joel picks up the pace. He knows Maddie is probably already looking for you, and he refuses to allow you to leave this bedroom without the inside of your thighs coated, dripping with his come. But he has to take care of you first, he always does.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, the coil wound in between your hips ready to snap forward. “Close, I’m so close—fuck, Daddy can I please come?”

Joel sinks his two fingers back into you, his thumb circling the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. He nods, “Come for me, sweet girl. Want you to come all over my fingers like the good girl I know you are for me. Come for me—” The firm command sends you free falling over the edge. Your soft, breathless moans fill the bedroom, your velvet walls fluttering around his fingers. “That’s it, fuckin’ let go. Let go for Daddy. There you go, such a good fuckin’ girl.”

As you come down from the high, Joel withdraws his hand from between your legs, his digits coated in slick. Normally he’d have you suck them clean—but there’s no time. With only a very minor protest from his back, he manages to stand up with you in his arms and sets you down. “Bend over the bed.”

Still slightly drunk off your own climax, you do just as you’re told and lean over the edge of the bed on your stomach. You hear him unbuckle his belt, and the sound alone causes another fire to ignite deep in your lower belly. “Daddy?” You glance over your shoulder at him with lustful, half lidded eyes as he pushes his jeans down to the middle of his thighs; his thick cock springs free from confinement and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of it.

“What baby?” his gaze meets yours. He strokes at his length, willing himself not to fucking explode—seeing you in your costume, bent over, perfect ass up in the air waiting for him? He isn’t going to last.

“I need you to fuck me,” you say sweetly. “Please.”

A guttural growl rumbles through his chest and he leans over you—a massive bulk of a man shielding your entire body, making you feel so much smaller than you were. Joel wraps a hand around his base, then drags the head of his cock along the seam of your cunt, coating it in your sweet slick.

Still hunched over you, he asks, “Ready to take me baby? Ready to take Daddy’s cock?”

“God, yes please.”

Joel trails a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder and makes his way up your neck. He slides into you, his length and girth stretching you until he finally bottoms out. He pauses and groans into your skin, giving himself a second to savor the feeling of the initial stretch. “S’tight for me. Christ baby, s’like your sweet little pussy’s made for me.” He lifts himself and grabs at your hips, rocking his own in a pace that starts off slow, but then speeds up when he hears the sound of high-heels clicking their way up the stairs. Worried it could be Maddie coming to look for you, his thrusts become sloppy and quick, causing you to cry out loudly.

Without losing rhythm, Joel reaches down, pulling you off of the bed so your back is against his chest as he’s fucking you. He wraps one arm around you to hold you in place and his opposite hand clamps over your mouth to keep you quiet. “Gonna come, baby. Gonna come and fill you up—you want that? Hm?” His breath is hot against your ear. “Want me to send you back out to your friends so fuckin’ full of me?”

Eagerly, you nod.

He wants to draw it out, doesn’t want it to end this quickly, but there’s a knock at the door and he has no choice. He shoves you back down onto the bed and pins you down, biting down on his lower lip to keep as quiet as possible as he snaps his hips, one final deep thrust that has him spilling into you.

Maddie calls your name. “Are you in there?”

You clutch at her bedsheets, your mouth open in a silent scream as you feel your cunt milking him for all that he has, filling with every last drop.

“Hello?” Maddie knocks again. “Who’s in here?”

Joel slumps forward, leaning over you. “You’d best just answer her, darlin’,” he grunts quietly. He rests his arms on either side of you, his cock still buried inside your center.

In the steadiest voice you can muster, you call out, “It’s me, I’m in here!”

There’s a pause. “Is Joel in there with you?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“Jesus.” You can hear the eye roll in her tone. “You couldn’t at least do it in the fucking bathroom like normal people do? You had to do it in my room?”

“Sorry, Mads.”

Joel snorts in amusement into your shoulder.

“You owe me a new set of bedsheets!”

And with that, you both hear her stomp away.

Joel pulls out of you and stands. “C’mon, let’s get ourselves decent.”

After the two of you clean yourselves up—not only do you owe your best friend new bedding, but you also now her a fresh pack of feminine wipes—both of you take one final glance in the mirror just to be certain there wasn’t a single hair out of place. Well for you, anyway. Joel’s thick, salt and pepper curls were always out of place no matter what.

“Can’t forget this,” Joel comes up behind you with your rose. Handing the flower to you, he smirks as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So—princess, huh?”

You turn your head and kiss his cheek. “That’s one name I could really get used to, you know.”

“S’long as a princess attitude don’t come with it.”

“No promises, Joel.”

divider credit to @saradika ❤️

AHHHH AS SOON AS I READ THE TITLE I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE GOOD

I forgot to post this here, but here's a thing! Updates Saturdays.

I know what I have to do

Taking a break from being sad - Dieter would 100% insist on wearing these if he’s ever cast in a western 🤠

DAMN YOU REALLY PULLED MY HEART OUT LIKE THAT 😭❤️❤️❤️❤️

You're Bad for Me

Don!Boysen x Motti

If there was one thing Motti had never thought she would end up doing is tailoring for a well renowned mobster. 

She had fantasized about how her life would go- she would find a nice shop to work at, work there for a few years and save every penny to open up her own. And then she would spend the rest of her life making beautiful suits and dresses until she was old and grey. 

And so when she found this job, it paid extremely well, reasonable hours, and plus, walking distance to her apartment complex. She was excited and thrilled her life was going on track and so conveniently too, but she could have never accounted that she would be working with none other than Boysen, a mobster. And not just any ol' mobster, a Don. 

To say the least, her heart dropped in her stomach when he made his way into the shop. However, to her surprise he was quite cordial and patient. Not at all like the rumors Motti heard about him. 

He made her nervous in the beginning, walking on eggshells and even afraid to breathe in his direction. He was a man of very few words, and he had a gaze so sharp she could swear it cut down into her very soul. His face was scarred and only enhanced his tough exterior, but Motti could not deny he was rather handsome.

But over time the nervousness of being around him lessened. He made quips towards her, teasing Motti about her short stature here and there. It ruffled her feathers each time and she made a few comebacks herself, albeit they held no weight and would often make the mobster smirk. 

She doesn't even remember when it started when he brought her bouquets, but she remembered that they used to be a lot smaller in the beginning. And now, she would lug bouquets big enough to block her view as she walked home. 

Motti even remembered she first declined this gorgeous sapphire broach and the way she saw Boysen's shoulder drop just a centimeter that it tugged at her heart strings. To anyone else, Don Boysen was unperturbed and carried himself with dignity, he didn't utter a word as he set the broach on the counter and did not take it with him when he left.  Motti knew she hurt his feelings, she didn't know how, but she felt it inside. 

She took the broach home and the next time he came in he saw it clipped to her collar. He spent the whole appointment there making harmless snarky comments and Motti could just tell he was elated. 

Somehow their relationship became more natural and easy going. Motti complained whenever Boysen would bring in a tattered suits. Some of the suits could be salvageable, others so torn and stained red Motti would just throw it in the incinerator outback. In the beginning it made her queasy with what the stains could be. She knew what they were, but for her sanity, Motti pushed it in the back of her mind. Now she just gripes to him openly if he even dared to bring in a suit that far gone. 

Grillby, the shop manager and owner of his own bar, would frequently check up on the shop and often gave her knowing looks when Boysen would not appear for some time. Boysen often made trips there every week or two, but sometimes weeks would go by with no sign of him. Grillby would point out her sulking and Motti would often brush it off and tell Grillby it's because she's had Boysen's order ready and she just needs it out of her work space. The flame monster would flicker as he stared at her. Sometimes Motti would see his shoulders shake and just knew he was chuckling at her. 

As much as she was denying it openly to her boss and even her friends, Motti knew she was developing feelings for Boysen. Part of her was scared, but then there was the other half of her that was thrilled by a powerful gangster fancying her. Sometimes the way he would speak to her made her feel on top of the moon. A strong, silent skeleton monster that was a powerful mobster completely putty in her hands. 

The power and thrill it gave her, knowing that if she so willed it, Boysen would give her the city. Yes, it was thrilling but also terrifying. Motti knew his hands were stained. Sometimes she would lie awake at night riddled with fear at the realization that this man has killed and could possibly put her in danger. And other times she thinks she must be mad, taunting and scolding such a person knowing his suits were ruined because of his line of work. 

But something about Boysen made her forget all of it. Made her mind turn to mush and all she could think about was his rare smile. His raspy soft voice gracing her ears and just making her feel safe…. Wanted. Desired. 

What were they? She would often ponder. They haven't openly stated their feelings to each other. Motti and him have only shown affection through gifts and teasing quips. She could consider him a friend, she supposed. Even though both of them knew they were pining for each other. 

But Motti was scared. What would it mean if she became his? Would her life change? Would her life goals be altered now this terrifying but charming monster entered her life? Can she still picture herself mending clothes with wrinkly hands in the future?

What if her life was cut short. 

Would being Boysen's be worth it? 

Time had gone by since Motti last saw Boysen. Longer than usual and to say the least, Motti was worried. She went about her work, but each day her thoughts drifted to him. Was he okay? Did he perhaps find a different tailor shop to go to? Her heart sank at the thought of him finding someone else, but they weren't anything exclusive! Right? 

As the work day was ending, Motti was clearing her station when the shopbell rang. Making her way to the front she was shocked to see Crust, Boysen's brother and right hand. He looked at her wearily, and seemingly nervous. 

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Motti jest with a forced light tone. 

Crust gave a crooked smile, "Yeah…been a while, hasn't it." 

Motti tapped her fingers nervously on the counter, trying so hard not to immediately ask about his brother. "What can I do for you?" 

Crust shifted where he stood and shrugged his shoulders before looking off to the side, "Am here to pick up some suits. Gotta be quick about it though." 

Quick? How come? Motti looked at him quizzically but retreated to the back to gather the suits. As she walked back, she gazed at the atricle of clothing in her arms. Feelings of uncertainty and anxiety washed over her as she pictured Boysen.

When she handed the suits to Crust, she noticed he could barely keep eye contact. He handed her a slip and she barely registered that she grabbed it. He went to turn when her voice spoke up, "H-how's Boysen?" 

He visibly stiffened, but did not turn around when he answered. "S'okay." He walked toward the entrance when Motti came around the counter fast on his heels. 

"Is he ok- I mean- is his services being taken elsewhere?" She tried to ask and keep it professional. He may be just a mob boss, but he's a customer and she's just a seamstress. Right? Can she justify that? "Was…was our service unsatisfactory?" 

At this Crust turned around and looked confused. "Whaddya mean? He ain't going to any other place." 

She had to swallow the wave of relief and keep her face from looking too pleased at that. "Then… is he-" but she couldn't seem to justify why she was asking. Wanting to know more. Where has he been? 

Crust shifted uncomfortably, and muttered how this was a 'pain in the ass'. He sighed, "Ya know you can just be honest." 

Motti was taken aback and began to speak when Crust cut her off. 

"Look.. I ain't supposed to tell ya, but it's annoying keeping it under wraps." His gaze softened as he looked down at the much shorter woman. "Not when you're so desperate to know where he is." 

Motti flushed in embarrassment and Crust couldn't help but smirk. 

"He's comin' back." He reassured, looking at Motti with soft mirth. 

Motti fiddled with her fingers, "Is he okay?" 

At that, Crust's brows furrowed and his jaw tightened. Motti was overcomed with another wave of anxiety. "Crust." She goaded. "Is he okay?" She stressed again. 

He sighed and clicked his tongue. 

"Crust."

"He's…not dead?" He answered awkwardly. 

Motti could feel tears brimming at the corner of her eyes and looked at him frustrated. 

"Ah- no. No, don't do that. I can't stand tears." Crust grumbled and sighed, exacerbated that this dame could make anyone soft. 

"Can I see him?" Motti was surprised by her own question. 

"Er… I don't know…" 

"Crust…" Motti stepped forward, her eyebrows furrowed. "I won't stop bothering you until I do." 

Crust could have laughed, which he will later, but seeing this tiny redhead sizing him up and being assertive, he could see how Boysen grew fond of her. A little spitfire, she was. "Fine, but I'm putting all the blame on you." 

He turned and grumbled, "And ya owe me for a drink too." 

Motti quickly grabbed her things and locked up the shop as she followed the tall monster. 

When they pulled up to an estate behind a grand gate, Motti began to wonder just how powerful and rich Boysen was. Motti couldn't believe with her eyes to see such rich and grand items decorating just the foyer alone. 

Crust and Motti went upstairs and he directed her to heavy dark oak doors. Without knocking, Crust let himself in. 

"I don't know where you get off without announcing yourself, Crust, but I have half a mind to-" Boysen's threat fell short when Motti stepped out from behind Crust.

His expression went from surprise to clear anger and annoyance which he directed at Crust. 

Crust held up his hands in defense, not really at all perturbed by his brother's intense glare. "She twisted my arm." And he turned on his heel and winked at Motti as he shut the door. 

The silence felt heavy and suffocating while the pair didn't know how to address each other. Motti took in Boysen lying in his bed, he was battered and covered in bandages. She knew monsters had abilities to heal faster than humans, but seeing him laid up and covered with gashes and bandages made her stomach hit the back of her throat. He looked at Motti with an expression she didn't know quite how to decipher, but her heart was beating fast in her chest with hot searing waves of grief and pain running through her nerves seeing him so injured. 

"What happened?" Was all Motti could muster out. No hello's or howdy do's. No time for formalities. 

Boysen looked at her with a composed stare. His shoulder rising with his sigh and leaning back into his nest of plush pillows.  "Would you like something to drink?" 

"Stop it." She snapped, "Answer me." She stepped closer and Boysen kept his expression cool as he watched her approach his bedside. Her voice quivered with frustration, "Who did this to you?" 

If Motti wasn't so filled with worry and vexed, she would have noticed the fleeting turn of his smile before his face fell neutral again. 

"Are you going to hunt after them?" 

"Don't tease me." Motti knit her brows together, clearly not in the mood for his jests.

Boysen's head tilted to the side, his eye light flickering about as he looked at her face. "You're crying." He simply stated. 

"I-" She started, but she was flustered and embarrassment rising up, "I'm not crying. I'm just-" What was she to say? 

She couldn't say she was angry that he's been gone, could she? She couldn't say that she was appalled to see the reason why was because he was so heavily injured. 

Boysen leaned forward, his face wincing just the slightest as he did so, and touched the tear that slipped from Motti's eye. He rubbed the tear between his thumb and forefinger as he raised a brow at her. 

"I am just frustrated and I-" Motti hastily wiped at her eyes, "I have a difficult time expressing myself without crying. It doesn't mean a-anything." She was so angry with herself. Motti wished she could be composed like Boysen.

"It doesn't?" His raspy but comforting voice rang in her ears. Oh, how she missed it. He placed a hand on her cheek, and stroked his thumb under her eye to wipe away the stray tears. 

She couldn't help herself and leaned into his touch, placing her hand on top of the one on her face. Her breath shuddered as she sighed, "I shouldn't be here. I don't know if I have the strength for this." 

The thumb stroking her cheek stopped, but still held her face. "Elaborate." His tone stiffened. 

Motti felt she could crumble. Break into a million pieces right then and there. "I don't know if I can see you hurt like this. I don't like it." 

"I am far too deep to change my lifestyle now, Gem." He said so matter of factly, it frustrated her to no end. She could curse at him for using his little petname for her. "But you're not too far in. If you so wish, I can make arrangements to give you a start elsewhere." 

"What??" 

His expression was neutral, devoid of any sort of emotions while Motti was crushed with pain. 

"You're gonna send me away?" She asked incredulously. "Do you want that?" 

"Not even in the slightest. But is that not what you want?" Again, his voice is ever so even. 

"I.. I don't know what I want." She said more to herself than to him. 

He sat back, the sensation of his hand fading from her cheek and she already missed it. "Why are you here then?" It really wasn't a question, but his tone was softer. This time Motti caught a certain tone of pain. 

Silence befell the two while Motti wasn't sure how to answer. Her next words would decide her stance; stay or leave him. It would decide the kind of person she was. But what would that be? A mad woman falling for a criminal? Or just a hopeless romantic afraid to let go of an unexpected good thing in her life? In so many ways, he was bad for her. 

"I missed you." She finally answered. 

Boysen stayed silent at her confession but he grabbed her hand as she plopped herself down on the side of his bed. 

Motti looked frustrated, the tears building up in her eyes again. "I don't like this. This is all too real now. But I-" She looked away, gritting her teeth and holding back from stomping her foot in frustration. She sighed defeated, "I am in too deep. I think I'm nuts, but the thought of never seeing you again is worse than anything I can deal with." 

Boysen's grip on her hand tightened. 

Motti looked back at him, taking in all his injuries; the cuts, the bandages and his crisp clean silk pajamas that contrasted with his disheveled appearance.  "I don't want to see you like this, but-" Motti shifted closer, Boysen letting Motti gently rest her forehead on his shoulder.

"I'll be damned if I let you get another tailor." She laughed lightly and hopelessly resigned to her feelings. Boysen chuckled so slightly and gently ran his fingers in her hair.

"I wasn't planning to."