#and she's saying fuck you to that mentality

[vivwritesfics]

"You Did It"

Something short in celebration of me passing my dissertation! I didn't think it would happen but I fucking passed!

She'd been staring at the keyboard of her laptop for a good ten minutes now, fingers itching to dance across the keys. But the words just weren't coming to her.

"I hate this," she mumbled. She'd said it at least once a minute for the last few minutes.

And one of her boyfriends was getting bored of it.

"Stop then," said Lando. He was laying on the sofa beside her, head propped up on the cushions, legs stretched out in front of him and his arm slung over the back of the sofa.

Suddenly, Oscar raised his head. He looked like a meerkat on sentry duty, searching for any danger. "Nope," he said as he stood up and walked over to his partners. "Don't listen to him, not when you're so close to being done," he said as he leaned over the back of the sofa.

Immediately, Lando was begging for his attention, but Oscar ignored him. No, Oscar was focused on their girl. "Promise me you'll try and do as much as you can tonight," he said before he leaned down to kiss her.

"I promise, Osc," she said and tried to get back to it.

And she really did try. She got maybe a few more sentences done, but that was about it. Still, it was progress.

She worked on it for the next week, on and off until it was finished. Concentrating wasn't easy with Lando and Oscar around. But then they headed off to the next grand prix and she was, admittedly, grateful to be alone.

It was easy to get it finished now that she was alone. She worked in silence, maybe to some music as she checked for any kind of spelling mistakes.

But no, it was perfect and it was ready to go.

As soon as she hit submit on her final essay of her final year of university, she called Lando and Oscar.

They couldn't answer right away, not with them both being on the race track. But as soon as they were out of the car, as soon as they had debriefed and as soon as they were back in their hotel room, they called her back.

She picked up almost instantly. "Hi, baby," said Lando as he held Oscar's phone. She could hear the shower running and could only assume that was where Oscar was. "Sorry we missed your call earlier."

"I forgot you guys were out on track," she mumbled as she laid herself in the bed the three of them shared. Her head was on Lando's pillow, half of her face squished against it. "Osc in the shower?"

Lando nodded.

"Surprised you're not in there with him," she said with a small grin.

Lando let out a chuckle as he ran his hand through his curls. "You know I would have," he replied. "But I wanted to call you back."

She and Lando made idle conversation as they waited for Oscar to return from the shower.

And, once she had both of her boys on the screen in front of her did she tell them the good news. "Boys, I did something pretty cool," she said to them as she sat up slightly. They could see her properly now, could see that she was dressed in one of their hoodies (it had originally belonged to Lando, but all three of them wore it so often that it had no owner).

"What did you do?" Oscar asked as Lando settled against his chest. She could have done anything to be there with the two of them, cheering them on through the weekend and cuddled up in bed with them.

She was unable to keep her grin from her face. "I submitted my final essay," she said as that grin grew wider.

Lando sucked in a gasp and Oscar's grin matched her own. "Well done, Baby!" Lando cried.

"We're so proud of you," said Oscar.

They were so fucking proud of her. The final year had been a mental struggle for her, they knew. But they'd encouraged her, kept her going through it. She could safely say that she wouldn't have been graduating without them.

"I wish I was there with you guys to celebrate."

Lando let out a laugh. "It's fine, baby. We'll make it up to you when we're back. Plus, I'll throw in another win on top."

"Or maybe I will," Oscar said as he looked at their boyfriend.

A laugh bubbled up from her lips. That might have been the only thing that would have made this weekend better.

"I love you boys."

"We love you too!"

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastries fluff #oscar piastri x you #landoscar #landoscar imagine #landoscar fluff #landoscar x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #poly!f1

[catherinnn]

I thought of this at work today and I couldn't stop laughing: Imagine Dustin having an older sister who's back from college. So when they need a sub for Hellfire, he asks her because she's the one that taught him how to play in the first place. As soon as she walks in Eddie's brain short-circuits because "Jesus H. Christ Henderson, why didn't you tell me your sister was my dream girl?!?!? I would've at least brushed my hair!"

Que Dustin not sure whether he should be disgusted because his sister keeps flirting with his DM all night or excited because there is now a very strong possibility Eddie could become his brother-in-law now.

Roll for Initiative eddie munson x henderson!reader warnings: nothing much really, just fluff overall. eddie self-doubts for just a second, no use of y/n, cursing. a/n: thank you so much for requesting! I really hope you like it. reblogs and comments are very very appreciated. 2.2k words masterlist

“So,” Mike starts talking, Dustin takes notice of his sarcastic tone. “Who the fuck do we know that secretly plays D&D and would want to sub for Lucas”

“Um, well…” but before Dustin can get a word out Mike interrupts him.

“I mean, we’re fucked! Eddie’s gonna hate us and kick us out of Hellfire!”

“Dude-“

“No Dustin, I’m serious! I’m gonna kill Lucas and all his stupid new friends”

“Mike! Do you remember what I told you earlier? About my sister?”

“Uh… no?” he confesses.

“Honestly! Do you ever listen to me?!” Dustin claims angrily. “What I told you is that she’s coming back home. And she used to play, dude!”

“Are you serious?” Mike exclaims, unable to believe their luck. He asks “When does she get here?”

--

Dustin's heart pounds with anticipation as he waits at the doorstep. It had been months since he last saw you, and he couldn't wait to catch up.

And as your mom’s car pulls into the driveway, Dustin cannot contain his excitement. He rushes to greet you, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his haste. You step out of the car, a weary smile on your face as you spot your little brother.

"Dustin!" you exclaim, opening your arms for a hug. "You've gotten even taller since I last saw you."

“You think so?” he asks with hope.

“Oh right? He’s turning into a whole handsome tall man already!” your mom butted into the conversation and you both cringe at her choice of words.

“Ugh, I missed you!” you hug him again and he laughs.

Once you’re inside the house, Dustin wastes no time in bombarding you with stories of his D&D campaigns. He told you about the epic battles and the incredible DM the club has. You make a mental note to tease Steve as soon as you see him since he’s no longer Dustin’s coolest older friend.

“That club sounds so fun!”

"Do you think... would you want to join our club as a sub?" he asks eagerly. "We're short one person since Lucas joined the dark side”

You frown in confusion and he explains. “He’s in the football team”

“Really?” you ask surprised.

“Yeah…” he sounds disappointed. “Anyway, would you help us? Please”

“You’re sure they won’t mind?”

“They would be so thankful if you help us beat Eddie’s ass”

“Okay, sure then” you agree laughing.

--

“Come on! We’re gonna be late!” Dustin shouts from the living room waiting impatiently for you.

“I’ve been ready for like ten minutes, you’re the one who’s taking so long” you answer calmly, not knowing what all the fuss is about.

Meanwhile in the drama room in Hawking’s High…

“Alright gentlemen, are we ready to start?” Eddie says as he walks in.

“Umm no, Dustin’s not here yet” Mike stops him.

“Well, where is he?”

“He’s probably arriving any time now”

“Wheeler, we don’t have all day-“ Eddie starts complaining but the door opening abruptly interrupts him. An agitated Dustin walks in and starts apologizing, but Eddie’s not listening to him.

The club leader still frozen mid-sentence, his brain seemingly short-circuiting as he laid eyes on you, standing by the door. He stumbled over his words, his thoughts are silent but screaming at the same time. Suddenly, the room seemed smaller, the air thicker, as if a spell had been cast upon him.

However, you’re still oblivious to the effect you had over him.

“Soo, who’s this?” Gareth finally asks after waiting for Eddie to ask that question, but he was not even moving.

“Oh, this is my sister” Dustin starts introducing you. Eddie’s trance is broken when he hears your name, the prettiest name he’s ever heard. “She’ll sub for Lucas”

“She will?” Eddie asks with a hint of hope in his voice. All of the sudden hoping Lucas won’t be able to join Hellfire ever again.

The rest of the boys are waiting expectantly for Eddie to ask you all types of question until he finds an unsatisfying enough answer and he’ll decide you can’t sub. But he never does. So Gareth starts asking if you even know how to play D&D.

“Sure she does, she was the one who taught me how to play in the first place” your brother steps in.

You tell the boys your level in the game and for some reason they all seem surprised. They start murmuring among each other. But you notice how the boy on the big throne leans over to your brother to whisper something. You play dumb and walk closer to them.

"Jesus H. Christ Henderson, why didn't you tell me your sister was my dream girl? I would've at least brushed my hair!" He whispers-shouts and a smile starts forming on your face.

You’d be lying if you said he hadn’t called your attention. His big puppy eyes, all the rings on his hand. You don’t know why he says that about his hair, you thought it looked really good like that.

At any rate, you take a seat next to your brother, which just so happens to also be next to Eddie. Happy coincidence. And you start playing, Eddie sets the scene. He makes you imagine every single little detail so you feel like you’re actually there. He makes different voices for each character which makes you giggle. He even stands up, or leans over on the table, he talks to every single one of you, not forgetting about anyone. It’s mesmerizing to see him like this.

“I love how passionate you get” you comment and it makes him smile so hard.

He noticed before, every time he would change the tone in his voice to imitate a character, you’d laugh, and now he keeps changing voices just to hear it again.

“Give me the gold! He says. Or I’ll set my hungry wolves free, right this second!” Eddie acts and without failing he’s able to hear your snorts. It distracts him in the best way possible. “You have an adorable laugh” he tells you with a smirk.

This obviously makes you giggle once more, this time with a pink blush decorating your cheeks. “Thanks, it’s just- you’re cute making all the voices”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to blush and smile once more.

Dustin notices this exchange —all of the other boys did— but he can’t decipher how he feels about it. On the one hand, he feels a little jealous and uncomfortable that you two keep flirting. But on the other hand, it would be really cool to have Eddie as his brother in law.

However, the game continues and so does the places Eddie takes you all to in your minds. So much so that at one point you start getting dizzy.

“Wait, where are we again?” you ask.

“In the mountains near the lake” Gareth answers.

“Are we close to the palace?”

“No no, the palace is behind the woods” Mike explains now. They have more of an advantage than you do, they've been playing this campaign for weeks now.

“Wh- Do you have a map?” You finally ask Eddie and he nods passing it to you.

“Here’s the palace” he comes closer and signals on the map, “and here is where you are”

“Oh, okay”

“You know, if you’re still lost I can stick around to guide you” he whispers giving the closeness.

“Well, you’re the bad guy here,” you argue imagining you’re still inside the game. “How do I know you won’t try to kill me?”

“Me?” he gasps acting offended. “I would never!”

“You already killed Jeff!” you accuse him.

“Yeah, but he’s not half as pretty as you are. I’d miss you too much” he makes sure he’s whispering very close to you now, just because if Jeff heard him he’d start acting offended. Just because of that… no other reason.

“Can we keep playing now? My mom will be here in like ten minutes to pick me up” Mike complains.

Those ten minutes fly by. Before you even realize it, Mike’s mom is honking in her car to hurry him up. And so you finish for the day, starting to gather all your things.

“You know, you owe me a pencil” you tell Eddie.

“Oh really? Why’s that?” he asks playfully.

“I only borrowed it to you! I did not gift it!”

“So you’re calling me a thief? First a killer and now a thief? Glad to know you think so badly of little old me”

“I didn't just called you that!” you say in you defence and he makes confused face, signalling you to continue talking. “I also said you’re cute. You’re a really cute thief and killer”

He starts laughing. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when I'm around?"

“I could ask you the same thing”

“Oh only with you, sweetheart” he promises.

“Me too” you admit a little shyly.

“Yeah?-” he tries to keep flirting but Dustin cuts him off.

“Are you ready? Let’s go”

“Wow, since when are you so eager to leave hellfire?” Eddie notices.

“No reason” he lies, he’s still not sure if all this flirting between you two would be something good or not.

“I think he’s a little jealous his sister is taking all of Eddie’s attention” Gareth teases him.

“No, I’m not!”

“Aw Dusty bun!” Eddie joins in the teasing.

“I’m not jealous! Ask her out for all I care!” he says but regrets it as soon as it left his mouth.

“Really?” Eddie checks in but Dustin is a very proud person, he’s not one to bend. So he nods encouraging his friend.

Good thing you know him like the palm of your hand.

“Let’s go dingus, mom’s probably waiting for us”

Eddie feels this as punch right on his chest. Did he read too much into this? Were you not actually interested? Was it just some playful flirting?

As you walk out the school and into the parking lot. You open the car so your brother can get in but tell him to wait a second, and you walk over to Eddie who was about to get in his van.

“Wait! Thief!” you call him and he turns around. “I think you should, you know… ask me out”

He feels the happiness creeping back into his body. “Yeah? I should?” his playful tone back in his voice. “Would you want to go out with a thief and a murderer?”

“If he’s as cute as you are, then I’d think about it” you make him laugh again.

“How about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up at eight” he proposes.

“I’ll be ready”

“Good”

“Yeah, good” you walk closer to him. “See you tomorrow then” and before leaving, you give him a kiss on his cheek. Hiding your need to kiss him more after seeing his flushed face. You’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow.

Dustin sees you getting in the car with the biggest smile on your face. “Did you ask him out?”

“Um, yeah… listen-“

“It’s fine, really”

“No, listen. I know that maybe it’s a little uncomfortable to think of one of your best friends going out with me. But I promise I would never do anything to hurt him and make it weird between you two-“

“I know that, and I know he wouldn’t do that either” he interrupts you. “I’m just- I’m worried that I won’t be a priority to you or to him anymore”

“Dustin, are you kidding? You could not be more wrong about that!” you argue. “Imagine this date goes well, we’ll start hanging out at home and watch movies with you, we could go out to eat all together, go to the cinema, anything! You name it!”

And the more he thinks about it that way, the more he loves that idea.

So the next day, he helps you choose your outfit, he tells you which hairstyle will look better and then hurries you up when it’s 7:50 pm and you’re still putting mascara on.

“You look fine already! Amazing even! Grab your jacket cause he’ll be here any minute now!” and as soon as he says that, he recognizes that car outside with the loud metal music, seconds later he hears the door knocking.

“I’ll get it, mom!” he yells so his mother won’t embarrass you.

“No, you won’t. I will” you stop him before he can open the door. “Go back to your comic-book. I’ll be back in a few hours”

And he waits until you get back. 

When you finally do, he’s on the couch watching TV but mutes it as soon as he hears you.

“Hey” he notices the big smile on your face is on again. He also notices your lips are a little puffy and he cringes at that thought.  

“You can go to sleep happily now, the date went amazing” you explain. “God, I think I’m love with him!” you comment as you go up to your room.

“Already?” he judges a little.

But as you promised, the three of you hang out together most of the time. And as long as he looks away when you two kiss or ignores the fact that Eddie’s spending the night in your room after you all catch a movie and order some pizza. He’s really happy that you two found each other.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x henderson!reader

[eff4freddie]

Privates

Joel Miller AU x Javier Pena x AFAB Reader/You

Word count: 9k

Joel takes a second job at the local strip club, hoping to cover Sarah's fees for her fancy new private school. He just has to make sure no one's gettin' too rowdy, and watch out for the girls. It would be really simple. If it weren't for you.

Warnings: porn with plot, this is a Joel Miller story but it's about a strip club so obviously Javi is there, reader is a stripper, no shame get your dollars ladies, MMF, Oral (f receiving), slow burn then smut, also a couple of other cameos, reader has limited physical descriptions other than in reference to her lady parts, this is really filthy even for me, pining while Joel really trying to hang on to some semblance of morals, Javi says maybe two words? Explicit. Minors DNI.

He thought his hearing was bad before he took the job, that years of construction work; drilling, hammering, screaming at Tommy for fucking up the A-frame, would be the thing that robbed him of one of his more essential senses. But it turned out it wasn’t that, it was the incessant bass, the thrum of the sub-woofer reverberating around his skull. The way he felt it jolt his spine, Mikey the DJ hell-bent on obliterating the patron’s ability to think straight with sound alone, as if the watered down booze wasn’t toxic enough to cloud their judgement.

But Sarah needed to go to the fancy school, the one with the uniforms and the shiny brochures, and he hadn’t figured it would be all that mentally taxing. He could do without the late nights at his age, but he got paid after-hours rates to basically walk around and look menacing, and only once or twice a night did he have to actually step in and boot a guy. Sarah had just joined the debate team. Like she needed any help with arguin’.

He'd only told a handful of friends, Tommy so that he knew if he was late to a job it wasn’t because he was on a bender but just because he was working late, a couple of the guys at poker night because he thought they might get a kick out of it. They had, immediately asking him to get them in without the cover charge. He’d refused, but in a good-natured way, and so far they’d steered clear of the place.

He wasn’t sure why he was shy about it, if that’s what it was. Giving the air of authority, trying to be respectful while the girls did their work. He mostly ignored the stage, felt his cheeks burn if he happened to look up to see a girl bent over, thong waving in a guy’s face. He scanned the floor, walked the halls outside the privates, kept his eye on the clock and the bar, waited for his break so he could take a load off and get away from the kick drum assaulting his temples.

The guys kept telling him he’d won the lottery, lucked out on a dream job. And he would agree, except for you.

He’d met you on his third shift, right when he was allowed to walk the floor without a supervisor. He was already learning how to read the floor, how to pick up on cues from the girls that a guy was trouble, was figuring out that just standing with a scowl on his face and his black shirt on in a darkened room was often times enough to keep a blowhard in line. He was getting used to the girls tipping him at the end of a shift, although it felt weird to take their money when he’d just seen how they made it. He was getting used to the dull ache in his knees, in the soles of his feet, reminding himself not to complain when he saw the six-inch plastic heels the girls traded in.

He was learning that each girl picked their music, that often times the songs they chose reflected their dance personas, the girls dancing to pop songs going for the cutesy vibe, the girls dancing to heavy guitar riffs and shouty lyrics dressed up in black and red lace, dangerous and menacing. He was getting used to the way the room shifted in response to whatever was going on stage, was noticing he needed to pay more attention when the younger-looking girls, the blondes in pigtails, took to the stage.

He felt the room go quiet, a kind of hush when your name was called. The shift was enough to make him pause, mid-stride, moving his gaze from a man trying to buy a drink for a girl he suspected was under 21, to the stage. The heavy bass hit him in the chest, the stage lights purple and red, when you emerged, thigh first, from behind the tatty little red curtain. You were all hips and cleavage, all gentle curves and smooth lines, skin glowing and buttery soft under the stage lights. You moved slowly, your hands ghosting over your breasts, as you made eye contact with every patron in the room, your red painted lips curling into a knowing smile as you regarded them, as you took purchase of them, as you measured them and found them all wanting. You were selecting your prey, he could see it in your eyes, and he was fully prepared for your gaze to skip over him, to see his outfit of black and his number around his neck and know that he was a non-starter, except that as soon as your eyes landed on him they stared there, and he could swear you added an extra little wiggle in your hips for him, an exaggerated dip as you held the pole to you and swivelled around it, as you winked at him, fucking winked right there in public like it wasn’t the most obscene thing you could have done in this environment, and he felt it then, that the two of you were in it together, that you had let him in on the grift, that if you were his Bonnie he would do everything he could to be your Clyde.

He turned as you got busy, gave you the privacy he felt you deserved as you shimmied your skirt down, and he found he had no idea where to look now, had forgotten his rotation, had been thrown completely from his rounds. He wanted a shot of hard whiskey, the proper shit that they kept for the high-rollers, he wanted to go out the back to the employee bathroom and dunk his head into the sink. He wanted to march up that stage and pull you off it, bundle you into his car and disappear with you into the night, his fingers nestled in your wet, wanting cunt as he drove, claiming it back from all the men you’d ever shown it to.

He balled up his fist, wondering what exactly had just fuckin’ happened to him, lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you revolving around the pole, your legs curling into the air in front of you so that, if he were to look, he would get a perfect view of Eden between your thighs.

He figured he should check the back room. It had probably been a while since anyone had.

--

You weren’t there every night. From askin’ around, none too subtly he suspected, he’d learned you were studying your master’s degree, taking classes in the daytime then coming by to work some shifts. You’d been there for a while, degrees are long and hard to get, and you mostly kept to yourself. Sometimes on slow nights you read your textbook in the dressing room until someone dropping cash came by. He felt his pulse quicken at this, at the earnestness of it, the innocence in it, and he resolved then that it would go no further. He would stop. He wouldn’t check the roster to see which nights you were working, wouldn’t watch the back door until he saw you appear, bundled up in a winter jacket and a heavy bag over your shoulder, in sneakers and jeans and somehow all the sexier for it, wouldn’t make shitty mistakes on the job site because he was distracted, waiting for your next shift to roll around, wouldn’t stalk the floor sullen and moody on the nights you weren’t in. He would do none of that, because he was too old for a schoolboy crush, because you were both working professionals, colleagues even, because it could never go anywhere without some sort of destruction, because Sarah was doing so damn well in her new school.

He watched out for you. That was his job, to watch out for all the girls. He watched out for you when you started to approach a guy who was already four drinks deep and threatening to get handsy, stepping in before you got to him to redirect him to a glass of water, then the door. He watched out for you when another girl got too drunk or too high and started causing a scene right beside where you were standing at the bar, pulling her away gently by the biceps before she could shatter a bottle and ricochet any glass into your general direction. He watched your back when you were in the privates, kept a respectable distance outside the open doorway, the little U-shaped couches meaning often times all he could see were the guy’s legs, sometimes the cream of your thighs as they dangled over his, the curve of your calf easing into the point of your heel. He watched out for you as you retreated to the dressing room for a break, kept an eye on the door to make sure no patrons tried to slip in while you were resting. He steered clear of the dressing room itself. That was your private space, you and all the girls. He had a little office back there, but he would just make sure to take everything he needed with him at the start of his shift, take his breaks in the back room amongst the toilet rolls and broken sound equipment.

He watched out for you when he wouldn’t let you tip him, figuring you needed it for school, gently pushing your hand away when you tried to pass him a twenty at the end of every shift.

--

Sunday nights were dead.  Most of the girls never worked it, preferring instead the busier nights, the bucks’ parties and the bigger crowds. There was only a small subset of girls who worked the Sundays, the ones who tended to have regulars come in to visit them, the ones who liked the chilled-out vibe a little more, who used the downtime to practice new tricks on the pole or discuss hair removal and boob jobs right there on the floor. Those were the nights when he felt everyone was a little more themselves, that the grift was a little lesser, when the patrons were generally more well behaved so the girls could let their guards down. No one felt like getting up to all that much bullshit on a Sunday.

But his feet didn’t know any of that, protesting all the same despite the more relaxed vibes, and he was hovering behind one of the booths on the floor resting his hip on it to ease the pressure off one foot for a moment, before shifting his weight to the other. This little method meant he could stay standing, more or less in the same position, for sometimes up to an hour. But on the quiet nights, with so many empty booths around, it was all the harder to resist just sinking down into the cushions and stopping the blood pooling in his shoes.

Candy Jane was on stage, shifting her hips without much conviction, a couple of regulars already with their girls. He could see you, propped up in a corner booth, your eyes on the stage but unmoving. He thought you looked tired, wondered if your feet were hurting as much as his were, and he thought long and hard about sliding in beside you, pulling you into his lap and nudging your head onto his shoulder.

You looked up, then, swivelling your eyes to him and he felt his stomach drop. He was about to start another round of the privates just for something to do but you were getting up on your feet, strolling over to him, the singles and twenties strapped to your thigh by your garter.

‘Joel,’ you said, grabbing his hand and pushing him into a booth behind him. ‘Come sit by me, I’m bored.’

He had seen you flirt with the patrons, a kind of hyper-sexualised bunny thing that promised them every sexual desire they could ask for without ever actually delivering, the art of the tease so acute in you that none of them seemed to even realise they’d been played. He marvelled at that, always kind of admired it, at the street smarts of the girls extracting money from the men who thought they had any power in the situation. He looked at you now, sitting an arm’s length away from him, and felt almost entirely under your spell.

‘Not s’posed to sit on the floor when I’m workin,’ he said, almost apologetic, and you shrugged your shoulders at him.

‘It’s dead, Joel-y,’ you said, and you weren’t flirting with him now, you were just yourself, and he liked you all the better this way, all the more for the earnestness of you, for this version of you none of the other men ever got to see.

‘Just don’t be offended if I have’ta get up and leave quick,’ he said, and you smiled at him.

‘I don’t think you could ever do anything offensive,’ you said, and you were kind of teasing him but also really meant it, and you watched him blush, shifting his body in his chair to face a little further from the stage. ‘Why don’t you watch?’ you asked, rolling your ankles and feeling the tendons stretch. You were hoping your regular would show up soon so you could finally earn something, the house fee already putting you in the red.

‘S’not right to watch, not here for my…jollies,’ he finished, and you grinned at him.

‘Your jollies?’ you teased. He huffed out a shy laugh, looking down at his lap.

‘Y’know what I mean,’ he went on. ‘M’workin’, we’re all workin’.

‘You aren’t curious to take a peek?’ you asked, leaning closer to him. If he was a better man, he would have been able to resist the urge to peak down the top of your dress, the silly little spandex straps barely holding you in, your tits heaving with your breath and with how heavily you were teasing him.

‘Course I am,’ he confessed, almost hissing it out over the bass thumping through his body.

‘A man of principles,’ you appraised, moving back to give him a little break, wondering if he was hard yet. You knew he watched you closely, knew that he lingered outside the doorway for you more than any other girl when you were in a private, knew that he was going out of his way not to look at you when you danced on stage, and the innocence of it, the thrill of it when you had everyone else’s attention except his, it fascinated and annoyed and scolded you, tickled you around the collarbone. You watched as he scratched at the salt and pepper patches dotting his jaw, at how he swallowed so hard his muscle ticked and strained under the force of it.

‘Why don’t you take my tips?’ you asked. Candy’s dance slot was nearly over, and you were waiting to see Destiny. She’d promised to show you one of her new pole tricks hanging inverted, and even after all this time you still hadn’t worked up the courage to do that.

‘You need to save ‘em up, get your degree,’ he answered, without thinking, finding it so hard to think through the want for you, for the proximity of you, now that he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat along his side.

‘You know about that?’ you asked, surprised.

Oh shit, he thought. Just like that he’d fucked it.

‘One of the other guards, he mentioned it. Said he saw you reading a textbook one time,’ he covered, as quickly as he could given the circumstances. You nodded at him, as if this satisfied you, but he wasn’t sure if he’d actually pulled it off. His throat was dry, and it was so hot in the club, was it always this hot in the damn club? First chance he got he was gonna call his HVAC guy.

‘What are you studying?’ he asked, but you were smiling then, eyes bright and over his shoulder.

‘Hey, Javi!’ you squealed, giggling and rising from the booth, pushing your chest out and wiggling towards the man Joel had come to recognise as your regular. The lucky bastard always wore aviators, his jeans so tight Joel was surprised he didn’t burst a button when he got a hard on, his moustache quirking up in greeting to you. Joel wondered if you would ever squeal and rush towards him like that, not caring for one second that it was just part of the grift. 

--

You’re not on shift, haven’t been on shift for a week, and his bones itch under his skin, his feet pacing up and down the carpet outside the privates, patrolling the floor like it insulted him. He hates that he checks the roster at the start of every shift and doesn’t see your name listed, hates that he’s worried about you; that you’re sick, that you’re hurt, that you’ve fucking left. He’s useless at his real job, nearly degloving his entire hand with a band saw he was so distracted wondering if he’d see you that night. This can’t go on, and he knows that, but he just needs to know what happened to you, just needs to know that you’re OK, and then he can get back to being dead inside.

Because that’s what you’ve done to him, he realises. You’ve made him feel alive. He can’t resent you for it, you didn’t know it was what you’d done, but it sets his teeth on edge and it unnerves him in a way that makes him consider quitting, finding another club, maybe not a titty-bar, maybe something he can actually put on his resume. He considers it while simultaneously knowing he won’t do it, would never do it, that he’s too far gone even while he can’t go any further.

He stops checking the roster. It hurts in a way he can’t quite get his head around, a pain he doesn’t have any room to accommodate sitting tight and hot in his chest. He keeps his eyes on the patrons and the clock. He takes his breaks in the back room. He feels tired down to the bone.

--

Two weeks after he’d last seen you, he starts his shift the way he always does, going into the back before too many girls arrive to put his bag in his locker and fill his pockets with whatever he’ll need for the rest of the night. He’s busy trying to put a protein bar in his pocket in such a way that it doesn’t look like he has a hard on when he hears footsteps behind him.

‘Joel-y’, you say, and he swings his head towards the sound so hard he thinks he hears something snap. You’re smiling at him, dressed in your jeans and a Fleetwood Mac tee, and he has to consciously remind his heart to keep beating. You’re holding one of your enormous heels in your hand.

‘Where have you been?’ he blurts out, not caring that he sounds needy. You blink at him, surprised.

‘You missed me?’ you ask, and you’re teasing him but he doesn’t care, because he’s glad all over that you’re back and he’ll take all the sass in the world from you if you just stay there.

‘You didn’t…’ Didn’t what, he thinks. Didn’t check in with me? Say goodbye? There’s no reason why you would have. Didn’t promise you weren’t grossed out by him, that he’d made you so uncomfortable you’d gone to work at another club? ‘You didn’t mention you were taking a break,’ he said, eventually.

‘Oh, I had mid-terms,’ you say, breezily. He’s stepping out of his little office now, trying to put space between you before he says something else blatantly insane and stupid, hoping to go back to just looking at you from dark corners while he furtively hopes you don’t see.

‘Wait,’ you say to him, grabbing him by the arm. You hold your shoe up, and he can see where the strap has come away from the base. He takes it from you, feels the brush of your fingertips as he does it, tries to ignore the little flip in his tummy.  

‘Leave it with me,’ he says, stepping towards the backroom where he knows there’s superglue. ‘You got another pair?’

‘Yeah, but those are my favourites,’ you say, looking up at him carefully, watching his face for something. You haven’t got your heavy stage make-up on yet, haven’t curled your hair into gentle waves, and you’re so beautiful like this, he thinks, when he can see the actual colour of your lips, your cheeks.

‘Twenty minutes,’ he says. You smile at him. He wonders if you’ll put your hand on his arm again. You turn away.

--

In the backroom he sits on an upturned milk crate, holding the strap to the base so the superglue will affix to it. If he had his tools he would try and nail it down, but there’s a chance he could shatter the base and these heels seem expensive for something that makes all you girls look so darn cheap.

Your shoes are so small in his hands, and he imagines just for a second its your foot he’s cradling in his lap. He has the presence of mind just enough to wonder what fucked up version of Cinderella he’s trying to live.

He checks the strap, pulls hard on it three times, before he’s satisfied enough to give it back to you.

--

He realises his error, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. He had mentioned to the guys at poker that Sundays were the quiet ones, that the music was just low enough to be able to think, that the girls mostly entertained themselves while their regulars paid them to chat, sometimes to dance. Where you could always get a seat at the tipping rail, could even swing a three song dance out of a twenty if the girl was bored enough.

He feels the drop in his stomach when he sees them, approaching the bar en masse. He can’t remember where you are, he’d lost sight of you between the booths on the floor and the privates, and he tries to remember what time your stage slot was, having checked the roster again despite swearing black and blue he wouldn’t. They haven’t seen him yet, and he wonders if he can just slip out the back and make a break for it, tell them he was sick so he wasn’t working, and they need to fucking call him first. He knows them, knows that they’re not bad guys, that they’re here to keep him company and maybe see some butt while they’re at it. But it stirs in him a deep panic, that they will see you, that they’ll get their eyes on you before he’s really even let himself have a chance to, before he can make you all his own.

A silly little delirious part of him, right at the back of his skull, whispers that it’ll make your wedding really awkward. He shoos it away like an errant mosquito.

Benny sees him, then, is waving him over.

‘Joel, we made it!’ he yells over the music, the guys turning to him to welcome him into the circle. Tommy is already at the bar ordering the beers, but he nods to his big brother. Joel worries for a second that you’ll like his brother better, before he remembers you don’t even like him at all.

He stalks over to him, his jaw aching from the strain, while he looks through the darkness to try and find you. He’ll just have to run interference for a while, keep them busy while you work the floor, try and bundle them back out into the cold before your stage slot.

‘Gentlemen,’ he says, laced with irony, and they’re slapping him on the back, welcoming him in. He reminds himself these guys are mostly Tommy’s friends. Wouldn’t be that sad if he never saw them again.

Frankie tries to hand him a beer but he pushes it away. ‘Workin’.’ He says, simply.

‘More f’me,’ Frankie grins from under his cap.

‘So where’s the best place to sit?’ Benny asks, surveying the room. There are a couple of girls walking the floor, Amber on the stage twisting her hips to the music while staring out over all of their heads.

‘You gotta tip if you sit on the rail,’ Joel says, simply, and Benny nods.

‘I got singles!’ Pope says, ever the responsible one, always the one planning. ‘Sorry, hermano, not enough for you.’ Joel grins at him. Pope can stay, he thinks. Pope will keep his mouth shut.

‘Look, you sit in that booth there,’ Joel says, pointing them to the centre of the room, ‘you can see the stage perfect. You wanna tip a girl though, you gotta get up onta the rail, make sure they know about it.’ He leans in a little, like he’s sharing a secret. ‘These girls work real hard. Make sure you treat ‘em right, ok? They’re good girls. Smart girls. You don’t come here just to look and not sling ‘em some hard earned.’

‘Yes sir,’ Pope says, making a salute that Joel considers might actually be real. He can’t be sure. Tommy was the one who spent a few years in the army with them, not him.

‘Vamos!’ Pope calls, rounding them up and shoving them down onto the cushions. Now Joel just needs to figure out where you are.

--

You keep fuckin’ evading him. One minute you’re in a private, the next you’re at the bar chatting to a patron, trying to get him to buy off the top shelf. Electra is on the stage, and Tommy is entranced by her, the bills practically falling out of his hands while she bends to pick them up with her teeth. It’s distracting Joel, trying to keep an eye on them while also trying to keep distance between you, and the boys are inviting girls over to them, beckoning to them from the stage to come sit by them, and he knows it’s not long before your dance slot is up, knows that as soon as they see you they’ll want you, that they’ll beckon you over, that you’ll fuckin’ go.

He can’t be everywhere, can’t keep doing his job while also trying to manage this situation, has to keep pacing the privates to keep the other patrons in line. He never thought there’d be a time that he wished that fuckin’ Javi guy would show up just to keep you out of sight for a while.

They keep calling to him, too, trying to get him to come over and sit down no matter how many times he explains to them he’s working, that the girls need him to keep an eye on things. Will’s trying to keep a straight face but he’s snickering up at him, and Joel wonders what’s so damn funny.

‘Bet you do keep an eye on things,’ he grins, a little shit-eating thing that makes Joel’s hand curl into a fist. He shakes it loose, the music making it so hard to think, jarring his nervous system. He’s about to say something, about to find a reason to throw the lot of them out, when your name gets called over the loudspeaker. You’re being called to the stage. You’re up next. On the stage.

He has approximately thirty seconds to do something. He is completely rooted to the spot. At the tipping rail his little brother is waiting, dollars in hand. He thinks he might pass out or puke, possibly both and not in that order. His head is swimming. ‘Not like this,’ he thinks. He just doesn’t want you to meet his friends like this.

‘Holy shit,’ he hears Pope say, and he turns to the stage. Your thigh is appearing around the curtain, the shoe he fixed for you running up and down its raggedy edge. You’re all swagger and tits tonight, your hair swept over one eye, and he’s transfixed for a second, completely unable to move, as you shimmy up to the centre of the stage, take the pole in your hand and swivel, kicking your legs out behind you so that you corkscrew down to your knees. Pope is moving to the tipping rail, Benny following close behind. Tommy is leaning forward on his elbows, pulled in by you almost on instinct, and you’ve clocked him now, crawling on your hands and knees towards him.

For a second, Joel sees you pause, studying Tommy’s face, before you search for him in the crowd. You’ve noticed the family connection, and he freezes, terrified of your reaction. Are you going to be angry? Feel betrayed? Hurt that he’s brought his friends here to ogle you, to watch your hips shimmy and your tits bounce? Has he broken some kind of professional code, could he get fuckin’ fired for this, will you never speak to him again? He tries to communicate to you with his eyes that he didn’t bring them here, that he doesn’t want this, that whatever the fuck’s going on with these guys he wants no part in it. He wants you to know he sees you, you in jeans and a tee shirt, that it’s that you he wants.

For a long moment you stare at each other, Joel’s pulse heavy and thick in his ears. You lean back, rear up so that all your weight is on your knees. You run your hand up your side and into your mouth where you bite down on your index finger. You keep your eyes fixed right on his. You wink.

--

So, this is what its like to have a heart attack, Joel thinks. It’s slower than he expected. It’s been hours, and the guys are still here, and by some stroke of divinity or possible the opposite, so is he.

The number of times he’s reminded the guys they have work in the morning. How he’s complained that the music is giving him a headache, and man that pounding base makes it hard to think, and wouldn’t it be fun if they all went to a sports bar, see if the replay of the Knicks game is on? But they can’t leave yet, won’t leave, because they want to see you on stage again, want one last look at your creamy thighs and your bucking hips before they go home and jerk off thinking of their tongues in your cunt. He’s going to have an aneurysm right here on the goddamn floor of this fuckin’ strip club. Sarah’s gonna find out where he’s been workin’ all this time.

The one thing his brother has done for him, the one thing Tommy has done right in his life, is to lay down a rule before they got there that they can’t get any private dances.

‘Didn’t come out here to see ya’ll with hard-ons’, he reminds them, and they snicker but begrudgingly agree, and Joel won’t lie that he feels a surge of pride in his fuckin’ idiot baby brother and his one good idea.

Joel knows the girls are on a roughly two-hour rotation, that by the end of the night all of them will have been on stage about three times. The only problem is that if a girl’s in a private she gets skipped until she’s ready, so sometimes some girls might even need to do more. It seems especially cruel to him that if a girl’s having a bad night, not reeling anything in, not making any money on her own that she gets paraded out even more to the baying crowds of disinterested patrons. He’s seen a few girls with tears in their eyes on the way to the dressing room, complaining of an off night. He’s been around long enough to know that these happen, that there’s no rhyme or reason to them really, just that sometimes that particular girl just isn’t flavour of the night. He’s never seen it with you, though. Never seen you fail to take a man by the hand and lead him down the dark corridor to the u-shaped couches if you deem him worthy. It burns him up with jealousy and also he’s proud of you for it. His good girl taking no prisoners.

He wonders if he can tell the DJ to take you off the rotation, if you’ll notice if you just don’t get called again, but he also knows it would be messing with your money, that Pope and Benny and Will are making good on their promise to tip well. That you’ve got bills and a college degree to earn, that the fact that he’s sick in the guts with a jealous want doesn’t matter, should never be part of the equation when it comes to you.

He does another round, still hoping to see you, still hoping to find you in a private somewhere, but you’ve made yourself scarce and he wonders if it’s because of him, because of his friends being here, worries that he’s embarrassed you. There’s only one other place you could be, tucked away in the dressing room hiding out, unless you’ve just got dressed and left completely, not even bothering with the attempt to tip him tonight.

He shouldn’t but also he needs to, knocks hard on the door and calls out that it’s him before he pushes it open. With all the lights on around the mirrors the place has a warm glow, and he scans quickly to make sure he’s alone before he pushes himself into the room. You’re not here, either, which means he doesn’t know where you are, and he feels a little flare of panic in his sternum. He rests his hand on it, trying to steady his catching breath. He should check the roster. Maybe you had an early finish.

He nearly steps on you when he rounds the corner into his little office. You’re lying flat on your back on the floor, headphones over your ears. For a terrible second he thinks you’ve passed out in here before he realises you’re tapping your feet, your head swaying back and forth to the music only you can hear. He leans down and pushes, gentle, at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you startle, pulling the headphones free.

‘Jesus,’ you say, and he steps back again, hangs around the door.

‘Sorry,’ he says, hands up in appeasement. ‘Didn’t mean to scare ya.’

‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ you say, scrambling to stand. Your heels are catching on the carpet and you waver, Joel coming forward to steady you. ‘Sometimes I come by here and stretch out my back a little, the heels are…hard work,’ you say, and he realises you’re blushing, that you think he’s mad. He shakes his head at you, brows saddled.

‘S’ok,’ he says, not letting go of your arm.

‘You’re just not normally in here,’ you say, and you look up at him then, fixing your eyes on his.

‘You can come here any time you like,’ he says. Wants to add that everything you ever wanted he will get for you, that anything you ever asked he would do.

‘-nks,’ you say, feeling shy all of a sudden, realising the size of his hands for the first time.

‘I didn’t know they were comin’,’ he says, trying to keep his voice steady, and you blink for a second, trying to understand. ‘I didn’t invite ‘em, they just showed up.’

‘So, he is your brother,’ you say, smiling now. Joel nods his head at you, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘He’s cute,’ you say. ‘Runs in the family.’

Joel grunts at this, can’t quite believe he’s heard it, tries really hard to think straight. You’re wearing practically nothing in his little office on a quiet Sunday night while his brother and four of his friends throw dollars at random half-naked women. It’s a lot to take in.

‘They’re not getting dances,’ you observe, and Joel shakes his head.

‘Their decision, outta respect or somethin’, I guess.’

‘Respect for you?’ you clarify.

‘Each other, I think.’

‘Oh, that’s silly,’ you say. He feels the heat up his neck, a bloom of something worrisome in his tummy. ‘That’s like going to Disneyland and not getting on any of the rides.’

‘I’m gonna have to beg you to rephrase that,’ Joel says, and you grin at him. He can see that flirty sex bunny emerging in you again, can see that you’re up to somethin’, his brain too addled with the smell of you in his office to figure what.

You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you smile, your little dimple on your right cheek popping up when you’re thinking of something sneaky. He wants to kiss it every morning in the warm light of dawn. Wants you wrapped up in his sheets, hair stretched over his pillow, his hands on your tummy and your breast while he eases his fingers between your thighs.

‘Breaks over then, I guess,’ you say, and you’re practically bouncing out of the room now, his brain working just enough to remind him to follow you. He’s three or four paces behind, alarmed at how fast you can go with those heels on, and he sees it now, that you’re making a beeline for them, that you’re a woman on a mission to finally tip him over the edge, to send him right to his grave.

He can only watch, helplessly, trying to figure which one you’ll reach for. Prays it’s not Tommy. Or Will. Or Benny. Or fuckin’ Frankie. For some reason he thinks Pope might be OK. He watches, his pulse hard and racing in his throat, as you approach, six paces from them, then four, then three. Tommy’s noticed you, is pushing back his chair.

And right before you get to them, right before you’re within grasping reach of his brother, you turn, pivot on your heel to the bar, where fuckin’ Javi is waiting for you, cigarette hanging out of his mouth and beer in hand, one knee cocked to the side. You melt into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder, and somehow Joel is relieved and also it’s so much fucking worse then he could ever imagine, burns him brighter than if you had chosen one of his friends, knows that it’s both a lifeline and a spool of barbed wire you’ve thrown him, knows that he’s latched onto it anyway, can feel the tug and tear of his skin.

--

He's hovering outside the privates. His friends have finally packed it in, it’s nearing 1 AM, and in all the commotion he’d forgotten that his feet are killing him, and they’re really crying for his attention now. But he ain’t leavin’ you alone with that Javi guy, doesn’t trust the way his shirts never fuckin’ fit.

He’s so tired, the adrenaline of the night leaking out of him just to leave him wavering and empty, and he feels like he’s on his last nerve, the stress of the evening, the strangeness of it, wearing him down to the stub. But your little shoe sat right in the palm of his hand, but you went to this office to relax when you thought he wouldn’t know about it, but you fuckin’ winked at him like the rest of the room wasn’t even goddamn there, and he ain’t leavin’ you now.

And if he leans on the wall a little, takes the weight off one foot and transfers it up into his shoulder, if he cocks his head to the side, he can just peek you, see Javi’s tight jeans and the plush of you bottom as you grind it on him, your arms up over your head to make your sweet little tits sway in his face.

He shouldn’t be hard at work. Shouldn’t be leaning like this, crowding himself into the corner to get a better look. He knows there are camera in the hallways, as much to keep an eye on the staff as to keep a watch on the patrons, and he knows that somewhere footage is being collected of him right now peeping in on you. He doesn’t fuckin’ care. He can see the way your stockings are banding too tight across your thighs, and he wants to sooth the skin with his tongue, pull the nylon off you and kiss his way around the angry red rings in your flesh. He can see your hips rocking to the music, your hair swaying down your back. Your hands moving to grasp behind you, pushing your chest up and out into Javi’s face.

And he sees it then, the way Javi’s hands are hovering, lifting off the couch and threatening to come down on your skin. The club has a strict no-touchin’ policy, it was drilled into him on his first day. That’s an infraction worthy enough to get him booted out of here, never allowed to set foot in this fine establishment of dirty tomfoolery ever again. Joel swallows, his eyes now fixed on Javi’s hands, waiting for the moment they brush against your soft, glittering skin, takes a step forward towards the doorway, doesn’t even notice that you’ve pivoted, your hands on Javi’s knees as you grind your bottom down, leaning back to rest your head on Javi’s shoulder. Locking eyes with Joel.

His cock is throbbing in time to the music. The bass thrums in his chest. You hook your knees over Javi’s, first the left then the right, and push them open just enough to give Joel a tease. You’re still in your thong but it’s enough for Joel to see the sheen of the fabric, that you’re wet down there in the valley between your thighs. He licks his lips, a hand coming to rest on his chest, as he gazes at you with the kind of want that sets your nervous system on fire.

You’re swivelling your hips on Javi, can feel that he’s hard underneath you, but you want it to be Joel, want more than his eyes on you now that you’ve got them, want his hands and his tongue and his cock. You whimper, and you hear Javi groan behind you, as if any of this is for him. Javi pulls his knees further apart, unknowingly opens you up for Joel, and there’s a moment where you feel more naked then when you’re topless in front of fifty strange men. Joel has stripped you bare, to the quick. You can see how fast he’s breathing by the way his hand rises and falls on his chest. You time your movements to it, jerk your hips as if he’s breathing his touch into you from across the room.

Except he’s mad, now, you can see the way his brows have furrowed, the way his jaw has set, and you’re too hot and too overwhelmed to realise until the last moment that Javi has his hands on you, is cupping your breasts from behind, trying to reach from behind to tweak your nipples, pulling you further down into his chest to rub more fully on his cock.

Joel’s with you in four strides and you reach for him, both arms lifting up to his as he wrenches you free, screams at Javi to back off, pulls you behind him and shields you with his body while he threatens to beat Javi to a pulp before throwing him out onto the street, then beating him to death where the cameras don’t point.

‘You don’t fuckin’ touch her,’ he’s yelling, and he can feel that his throat is raw, dry, but he can’t fuckin’ think over the crushing beat in his ears, realises after a couple of stilted moments that it’s not the music that’s deafening him but that it’s his heart, that he’s vibrating with fury and want, that Javi has backed up a bit on the couch and lifted his hands in the air but hasn’t scurried away, that he’s not scared or worried at all, that he got to put his hands on heaven and will do nothing to apologise for it, and something snaps in Joel, something feral and needy and primal, something that has been chewing at the bars of its cage for months.

He pulls you to him and you gasp, can feel Joel’s pulse through your back as he manoeuvres you to rest on his chest, lifts one foot up onto the couch while he strips your thong from you, spreads you open for Javi, your body weight leaning on his as he holds you with just one arm around you.

‘This is how you fuckin’ touch her,’ Joel seethes, pushing his hand down over your belly and onto your waiting cunt, cupping your slit and teasing the slick gathering there up and over your clit. You gasp, the leg you have planted on the floor shaking as he strums, gently but somehow so firm, and you can feel yourself opening up to him, your cunt wet and aching, trying to draw him in.

‘You seein’ this, see how wet she gets for me?’ he’s saying, and you glance down to see that Javi is indeed watching, shock on his face and locked in a kind of paralysis, his eyes flicking between your cunt and Joel’s furious face. ‘You couldn’t get this from her,’ Joel is saying, and you’re leaning back into him because your knees are definitely going to buckle, but he holds you firm and steady, and you lift your face up to the ceiling and gasp.

Joel isn’t thinking, just listening to you, just letting his fingers finally touch what he’s dreamt about for months. Your sopping cunt is probably dribbling onto his pants and he doesn’t care, wants it there, wants you deep down in the fibres of the fabric where he’ll never scrub you free. You gasp again when he pushes two fingers in, feels your walls expand to accommodate him, raises the heel of his palm to ease the stretch by rubbing quick little circles on your clit.

‘Slide right in,’ he says, his unhinged commentary gritting out over the music, loud enough for just you and Javi to hear. ‘S’what happens when you’ve got her achin’ for ya,’ he says matter-of-factly.

You’re rolling your hips now, unable to help yourself as you arch your back, wanting to twist in his arms and sink your teeth into his neck, lick and lave at his collarbone, keen into his skin until the sound of it attaches itself to his bones.

‘Look at that pretty cunt,’ Joel is still saying, almost frantic now, the heat on his skin making it impossible to think of anything else, anything so complex as consequences. He’s lost in the touch of it, in the way Javi is looking at him imploringly, the way he can see that this pompous fuckin’ arsehole is getting a schoolin’ on pleasuring a woman, in the way you’re gasping and whimpering just for him. ‘S’mine,’ he says, twisting his fingers up to the knuckle in you, hooking into the spongey spot he knows will make you see stars.

He wants Javi to beg him to stop. Wants him to get down on his knees and apologise, wants him to swear he’ll never come back. But he’s distracted, because you’re calling to him now, the sound of your sweet cries of his name echoing through the vacant halls of his brain.

‘Joel-y’, you’re whimpering, babbling. ‘Joel-y, please,’ and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for, just that he’s torturing you, setting you on fire right here in the privates, that the pleasure he’s wringing from you is too much, too overwhelming, that you want to collapse into him but you’re still trying to bear some of your weight, that your thighs are wobbling and your body is screaming at you to let go but you can’t, not in this position, no matter how good it is, because you can’t get purchase, you can’t grind, the heel of his hand is too blunt on your clit.

He can sense it, that he’s trapped you right where it’s too much and not enough, and a part of him wants to leave you there, wants to make you feel what he’s felt all those weeks he spent waitin’ for ya, checkin’ that fucking roster like a goddamn fuckin’ dog, causin’ all those little fuck ups at the job site thinkin’ about this little cunt wrapped so tight around his knuckles.

But he’s not cruel.

‘Lick it,’ he barks out, gesturing down your body to Javi while he pushes you forward, shifts your weight more fully to the couch. You instinctually hook your knee over Javi’s shoulder, the extra leverage finally giving you purchase enough to properly move. ‘Suck her little clit ‘til she fuckin’ soaks me,’ Joel says, and there’s no arguing with him, not that you would, not that Javi would by the look on his face.

He's looking uncertain, like this might be a trap, and you reach down and grab his hair in your hand. ‘Please, Javi,’ you say, and he’s on you then, without further hesitation, his lips catching your little bud and grasping it between his teeth. You scream, feel Joel jostle you until your head is twisted around to bury in his neck, and you can feel more than hear the little rasps of encouragement as he talks you through it.

‘Such a good girl f’me,’ he’s saying, and you’re barely registering it, but your cunt is listening, clamping down hard on his fingers as Javi grips you with his mouth. ‘Teachin’ us both a thing or two, ain’t ya, baby? Showin’ us just how to treat a sexy little cunt like yours.’

You’re going to die. You’re going to burst into flames. There’s just no question in your mind that this is how you go, but you just fucking hope that you’ll get to come before it happens. It’s like every single nerve ending is now in your pussy, like you are only breathing Joel and Javi, your body sandwiched between them as you grip Javi’s head to you and twist in joyous agony against Joel’s chest.

‘Wanna hear you, baby,’ Joel’s whispering again. ‘Wanna hear it when ya come f’me.’

You open your eyes, look down your body to Javi, where he’s watching you, his eyes travelling up your body to rest on your face. He’s palming his cock, you can see the way his arm is moving up and down slowly, and you can feel Joel throbbing behind you.

‘Don’t look at him,’ Joel admonishes, and you slam your eyes shut, turn again to bury your head in his neck. ‘He can’t help ya,’ Joel goes on. ‘S’just there to make you come, baby.’

God it’s fucking debauched, is what it is. It’s filthy and sweaty and you’re so wet, and you feel sexier than you ever have, feel the power in your body and in your desire, feel the way you have finally, finally brought something feral out in Joel. You’re going to come, because Joel has determined that you are going to, and you just know without him even telling you so that he won’t let you go until you have, until he is satisfied that he has wrung out every last whimper from you, until you are sated and he is confident his job is done.

Javi’s licking hard at your clit now, sometimes sucking on it, and you slam your hips down onto Joel’s hand when he does it, rock your knee to bring Javi closer to you, try to swallow him with your cunt and your hands in his hair.

You can’t get enough breath to warn them. It’s just going to happen, they’re just going to throw you over the edge and into the abyss and you can’t even tell them they’re about to do it. Joel sees it though, feels the way your cunt is gripping him.

‘Do it, baby,’ he’s gritting into your ear, catching every roll of your hips so you won’t fall. ‘Show him what it’s like when I wreck you.’

And you do, then. Harder than you ever have in your life, your lungs pillowing out in your chest to suck in all the air available to them, your wails lost to the music as streams of your slick press into Javi’s face, where you soak him and Joel behind you, shivering and convulsing as you topple over the peak, dimly aware of Joel’s words in your ear as you go, calling you his pretty girl, his beautiful, perfect girl. His girl, his girl, his.

--

There are too many broken workplace safety rules to count, so Joel doesn’t bother. He knows he’s lost his job, that the cameras will have picked up all of that, that as he drops his ID badge and set of keys on the desk in his little office that it was worth it, that you were worth it. He’ll get another job, find a bar open just as late as this one even if it’s further out of town, will travel and will keep Sarah in school and will keep the memory of your sweet little cunt fluttering around his fingers locked up tight in the back of his brain for when the nights are cold and lonely.

When he drives you home, bundles you up in his car and puts the heater on full blast to keep you warm, you tell him that you finished your degree weeks ago, that you were lying about the mid-terms, that you had actually been down in Florida helping your mother move your grandpa into care. It hadn’t seemed necessary to talk about them in that environment, you said, and he rests his hand on your knee because he understands, and also because he likes you.

He doesn’t ask for your number. Knows you probably wouldn’t give it to him, is too afraid that you’d regret everything that you did together, that you were humouring him with even letting him drop you home, that this isn’t even your house.

He only found it later, written in your neat writing, your number and your real name, when he was stripping his pants off himself and dumping them into the hamper, his come collected on the inside where he exploded as he rutted against you, as he listened to your desperate, whimpering cries for him.

He tacks the little piece of paper to the mirror, memorising the digits in case one day it falls. He isn’t gonna call it. He just wants it there, a reminder of you and what you’ve made him feel, how you’ve lifted him, freed something in him. He just wants it there. Proof that you were real.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #joel miller x female reader

[lucysarah-c]

Euphemisms

Summary: Levi may not have attended school, but he knows a thing or two about pregnancy… and also periods. (Levi takes care of you during your period) Author's Note: I wrote this story a while ago for my main fic. Then, I wrote a different version for the final cut of the fic, so I decided to re-arrange this one so it could be a one-shot. Warning: Suggesting themes, mentions of pregnacy. The reader is a virgin. Word Count: 3.5k

The calendar that was peacefully and innocently lying on top of Erwin’s desk. ‘March…’ her mind read, ‘It’s March already, the 7th to be precise.’ Her mind tried to count days, desperately trying to find missing days that could make the counting lower. Biting her nails with worry, this was a new topic for her to be stressed about.

Levi had joined the military only a year ago, right? He hadn’t been promoted yet, but the gossip in the halls said it was imminent. Perhaps because in the few months he had been part of the Scouts, he had already killed more titans than anyone before. Maybe it was because he worked directly for Erwin, who kept ordering her to write letters to the military board requesting the special promotion of Captain for those who were impressive additions to the military but hadn’t gone through the regular training.

The yet-to-be Captain and she had locked eyes in the past, or… done more than just locking eyes. That was the issue now. Every single time Levi was dragged into Erwin’s office because he had replied with his colorful vocabulary to a higher-up or fought another cadet, she was there. One thing led to another, and during common chores or after training, they had gotten more “familiar” with each other.

Y/N wouldn’t even dare to complain. The thug that Erwin had decided to bring to the surface kicking and shouting was many things. Rushed wasn’t one of them. She had clarified to him that she had never had a boyfriend before, or anything to be more precise, and he had reassured her that she could set the tempo. They would do anything that she felt comfortable with.

“Lev- Ah-“ she whimpered as he kissed her neck enthusiastically and his fingers played thoughtful circles over her clit.

“You like that, hm?” Levi replied almost as joke, it was obvious that she did by the way she rocked her hips against his hand.

“I-?!”

“Shhh,” he hushed her, half as mockery, half because they were breaking curfew “Don’t worry, I won’t go too far… two fingers are all I need,”

Blood rushed to her cheeks as she tried to concentrate on work, pen marking the time as it repeatedly hit the paper she was supposed to be reading while her mind recalled the exact scenes that, she believed, had dragged her into this situation.

The little knowledge that had been shared with her was more lies and tales than realistic information. The sudden crucifixion of her actions a couple of months ago passed in her mind as a picture book, one after the other, as her less pure side made an emphasis on bringing back the mental sequence of him taking off his shirt while smirking and then going down to kiss her, or better say devour her, taking her breath as if he needed the oxygen from her lungs for himself. Perhaps, the rocking of his bare hips against hers, with his manhood in full display for her to see as it pressed against her lower stomach.

‘Maybe it takes longer to show… no no, maybe I’m not. But what if I am?’ ‘Who do I tell? Who do I ask? What do I do?’

“Oi, are you going to tell me what the fuck is up with you or not?” Levi asked, pissed off already after an entire day of him asking, “You alright?” and her answering with a face that seemed far from okay, saying “Yes.” He was resting his body on the railing of the watch post, with a hot cup of tea between his hands.

“Nothing,” her voice came out whispery and sad, and he sighed loudly and groaned in pain.

“Just say it. Don’t be like ‘nothing,’” he emphasized the last word with sarcasm and disdain and kept going, “with the most fucked up face. It’s obvious that something is going on. Don’t be a pain in the ass and say it. Cut the show.”

A part of her wanted to be mad at him for saying that she wasn’t making a show or a scene. “It’s nothing that concerns you,” her response came dubitable, which made Levi keep up the demanding attitude, as if this time he wasn’t taking that as an answer. “It doesn’t concern you… you as a man.”

There was a brief silence before he sighed loudly. “You’re on the rags, that’s it?” She raised an eyebrow at the euphemism that was a bit more “street-like” than what she was used to. “You’re on your period, you’re bleeding. That’s what I meant.”

Leaving aside that it wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last that despite both of them talking the same language as every human inside of the walls, Underground slang was so distant from what she was used to that sometimes that they got lost in translation. When she got what he meant, she blushed intensely, ashamed. “No, and God, you could be a bit more delicate about it.”

Possibly, she wasn’t used to bringing the topic around the other gender. She had been told (since it happened for the first time) the bearable minimum amount of information: “You’re a woman now, it will happen every month, men must not know.” Telling Levi was breaking one of the three rules set in stone for her. The second rule was also broken, so she felt like stepping on completely foreign land.

The permanent wrinkled frown in Levi’s complexion was slightly changed with the addition of a raised, thin eyebrow. “If you’re not, then what’s the problem?”

She joined in the frowning and avoided his glance with questionable security and a mortified appearance. “More like… the lack of it?”

“Why are you worried about it?” Levi’s straightforward nature was testing her limits of politeness.

“Well, you know!” she cussed at him. “That I may be expecting,” she whispered the last part, terrified that someone might even hear her, in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. As if those words could travel through walls and arrive at someone.

This was the time for him to be shocked and surprised. His eyebrows raised, and his eyes opened. Suddenly, even without him wanting, a pang of hurt appeared in his face. Levi was quick to question, “Are you fuckin’ someone?”

Perhaps the details or the official title of what they were sharing hadn’t been discussed yet, but Levi somehow thought it was rather clear that they were exclusive. However, since she seemed genuinely worried, Levi considered that perhaps he was the only one taking this more seriously. The idea of him misreading the relationship was like a bucket of cold water mixed with the raging fire of jealousy. He took a sip of his tea, mostly to disguise the disappointment mingled with hurt.

Her coldness was lost, and she pressed her lips together while raising both eyebrows, irritated. “You!”

The former thug, not following her train of thought, admired her in confusion before saying, “How could I get you knotted up?”

Levi’s usual frowning expression changed slightly as he was certainly not getting the point of the conversation. “Are you fuckin’ someone else?”

Gasping in disbelief, “Are you already questioning my loyalty to you?” She felt dreadfully offended. She turned around and gave him her back. “My grandmother was right. Men back up so easily. They leave you as soon as they find out.”

He shook his head slightly while wrinkling the nose, as he tried to process everything. He was completely confused but at the same time he got a rush of relief at her words. “You… you think you could be knock up?”

“Couldn’t you be softer about it? You say it so harshly,” she complained about his sharp tongue. As a silent reply, the hand that wasn’t holding the cup left his trousers’ pocket and raised as he also cocked an eyebrow, completely misunderstanding what was wrong with his choice of words. “I don’t know, maybe a bun in the oven or with child.”

She was freaking out inside and out, and Levi dedicated his best disinterested look to her after her correction of words. “What am I going to do?” she questioned to no one in particular as she felt the fear kicking in.

Levi’s expression remained the same as he gave it a thought, and then said almost as if he was confused of his own actions too. “I … I haven’t put it in yet,”

She seemed to have completely ignored him. Once he had finally concluded there was actually no real problem he sighed and then said, “Then you’re not pregnant, chill. Calm down.” As soon as those words left his lips and she turned around with a dead gaze, his free hand raised again but this time as some sort of white flag. “Fine, fucking terrible choice of words.” Aware that not a single person in human history had calmed down after being told so.

“You don’t know that,” she murmured as a reply to his first statement.

“I think I kinda do.” The calmness in his tone and the disinterest in his face made her even more infuriated.

“People in my life, especially my family, had made it clear before. Messing around with a man could lead to pregnancy. We were both naked and your… your thing was touching me and close by. I don’t know! Maybe it worked somehow,” she desperately tried to express her fears until she heard him chuckle. It was starting to be tiring to dedicated him dead glances.

“Sorry,” he apologized, probably realizing that laughing in her face wasn’t helping. “I may not be the most educated moron around here, but that simply is not how it works. I didn’t put my dick in, not even close, so you’re safe.”

“Are you implying that you know more than everybody around me?”

“More about sex than you? Apparently, yes, I’m sure of that.” As he arrived at the end of his reply, he couldn’t stop a side smirk from appearing on his features, and then he took a sip from his tea. "If getting knotted up was that easy, girly, there would be more kids than fucking grass.”

Her stubbornness didn’t allow her to believe him. She walked around the watch post worrying, “What if I need to carry it on? Will I lose my job? Erwin will be so disappointed in me! I’m not ready for that. I’m not ready to be a mother either.”

Levi rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You know, there’s no fucking schools down there but I’m sure about this.” He commented, thinking to himself so stupidly prudish surface people were compared to the underground. “You’re not knock up. I’ve to put it in and shoot my load for that to happen”

When he noticed she wasn’t really paying attention, Levi took a cup and filled it up with tea. He placed it in her hands and grabbed her face. His rough, calloused hand applied pressure on her cheeks and raised it slowly, to look up at him even when they were more or less the same height. “Calm the fuck down. Why would I lie to you? If it was possible, don’t you think I would freak out? Drink the tea and relax for goodness’ sake. We are one week away from an expedition, and you’re stressed as a fucking cornered rat. Of course, your period is not coming down.”

“Alright,” she stuttered. “But what if I am? You’re not leaving me to deal with this alone, right?” She gave him her best doe eyes.

“Of course,” he replied, mostly to not argue with her but the thought that she was still considering it made him roll his eyes.

Stress is never an excellent ally. He was right in everything. They came back from the expedition; she relaxed for a few days, and it came right in. If there’s something worse than a period, it's a late one. Her hormones were messed up, and everything hurt twice as much.

"Trying" was a generous word for her attempts at pretending she wasn’t in so much pain that she wished she'd never left her bed. It was a mix of the constant discomfort from the unrelenting waves of pain and a boiling sensation in her lower belly. Not to mention the random rushes of intense pain in her butt that made her feel as if time froze until the sensation slowly passed. She felt moody, mostly because the uniform felt like it was pressing in all the wrong places. It was too tight, complicated, impractical, itchy, and either too cold or too warm. She wanted to put on a long shirt and lay in bed for a week.

Her fork moved the food from one side of the plate to the other. She was hungry, but not for breakfast. The usual meal felt like an insult to her state. ‘I want comfort food, not healthy stuff for training,’ she thought.

“Why the shitty face? Are you constipated?” Levi asked bluntly. Her initial thought was, ‘Yes, try going to the bathroom normally when you feel like dying.’

“I have a headache,” she replied miserably.

Levi hummed a positive reply, “Ah,” looking her from the other side of the table and simply stated, “Your blood finally came,”

She choked on the glass of water she was drinking, coughing loudly. When she finally recovered, her embarrassed expression made it clear how she felt. “Don’t say that! Or at least not like that. Haven’t you imagined that a headache is a social clue since you’re a man and I don’t want you to know?”

Levi, who once again didn’t understand her reactions, kept his uninterested facade and raised the teacup to his lips. “I don’t get your fucking embarrassment. Men know about it. It’s not a secret.”

“It’s girls’ stuff,” she tried desperately to keep the traditions she was told, while Levi was obstinate about going against them.

“It’s normal. Why are people here on the surface so fucking obsessed about hiding normal shit?” Levi, still getting used to another society, snarled.

The need to argue left her body as she writhed in pain from another cramp. She tried to hide it as best as she could, even though Levi already knew; she felt like expressing her pain was something he didn’t want to hear.

“If you feel that bad, go to bed and rest.” His voice was calm and monotone as always, but there were hints of compassion escaping his stoic expression.

“I can’t tell the superiors,” she used as an excuse.

Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Who cares? What’s the point of you training while feeling like this? Go, rest, and I will tell Erwin.”

“Erwin shouldn’t know,” she cried out loud, as if that was the worst fate.

“Don’t be an idiot. Erwin has hair on his balls. He knows how it works.” Levi felt as if she was talking nonsense but when he saw her conflicted face, he added, “I will tell him you caught a cold, whatever, so rest. I’ll do your chores.”

“You sure?”

“Just go.”

She did exactly that. At first, she felt she shouldn’t because she could bare it, but as soon as she arrived at her shared bedroom, changed her clothes, and laid quietly on the bed, she knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else. She fell asleep; it was still early anyway, so it was more like resuming the rest of the night than an actual nap.

Later, a few hours before dinner, she was feeling quite bad but wasn’t tired enough to take another nap. Laying on her side, curled up as she read a book slowly because it was hard to read from that position, she heard a knock on the door. It was unusual because her friends would have just rushed in.

“Come in!” she said, slowly and lazily sitting up.

Levi's figure appeared, and she felt the urgent need to smooth out her hair, which was heavily tangled from lying in bed all day. “What are you doing here?” she questioned quickly, running her hands through her hair. “Men are not allowed in the female barracks.”

Levi left a tray with tea and some buns with jelly, probably leftover from breakfast, on her nightstand as he moved next to her between the two bunk beds. “Who is gonna keep me out?” he replied monotonously, as if they both knew nobody was going to pick a fight with him or get on his bad side by snitching to a higher-up.

Before she could thank him, he asked, “You have a hot water bottle?”

“Yeah, but it’s cold already,” she replied, still confused. He extended a hand as a silent gesture for her to give it to him.

Once she handed it to him, he declared, “I’ll come back later. Drink the tea before it gets cold. Bread with jelly was the closest thing to something your bratty sweet tooth would like.”

She accepted the warm cup he handed her with a tender smile. “Thank you so much, you shouldn’t have.”

“How are you feeling?” Levi asked, keeping his eyes on her while she tasted the tea. ‘Chamomile,’ she noted.

“Could be worse, I’ll survive,” she replied, still embarrassed that he was around. “Did you warn the higher-ups?”

Levi nodded. “Told them you had a headache. Erwin said to take it easy today and let him know how you feel tomorrow. He mentioned something about administrative activities or some bullshit like that if you’re still not feeling well enough for training.”

She accepted the white lie without question. While resting warmly in bed, she thought, ‘If it’s only him knowing, I could get used to this kind of pampering.’

The white lie was necessary because when Levi walked to Erwin, who was leading his squad’s early morning training, he stood in front of him and said, “Y/N isn’t training today, she’s bleeding.”

The blunt words made the blond, who was casually writing on a spreadsheet, snap quickly in shock and then chuckle slightly out of nervousness. “Oh, alright, I’ll write her down as indisposed.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fucking ashamed, too?” Levi rested his hands on his hips, looking deeply at his squad leader.

Erwin, probably smiling at the unexpected situation, said, “Well no, but usually people are a bit more discreet… especially the girls.” Levi clicked his tongue, annoyed, before Erwin added, “I highly doubt Y/N told you to tell me that.”

“She told me to say she had a headache.”

“Of course,” Erwin chuckled, knowing those were not her words. “Try to be softer next time, especially if you ever have girls under your command. They get really embarrassed, especially when they are young.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Got it. I’ll add it to my long list of stuff that you fuckers from the surface get scared about.”

He was ready to go back to training while Erwin let the swears slip by as if he was tired of calling Levi’s attention to those. Then the shorter man asked, “Do you have chamomile tea?”

Erwin raised his attention from the spreadsheet to look at Levi and simply replied, “No. I have black tea.”

He clicked his tongue, “it’s for the brat,” Levi clarified, as if that would make a difference.

“I imagined, but no. I can give you black tea if you want.” Erwin insisted, confused about the specificity.

Levi frowned. “That doesn’t work, moron. Caffeine makes cramps worse. Chamomile works better. Don’t you know that?”

The blond shook his head, not ashamed of admitting his lack of knowledge. “Usually, female cadets don’t talk to us about that.”

“About their bleeding? Don’t you have a little sister?” Levi questioned back, as if that was reason enough.

“Step-sister, and she was born after I joined the military. We never shared a household,” Erwin explained as he went back to his work, disinterested. “And we prefer to call it indisposed,” he added, instructing him again.

“Tch, got it. I’ll add it to the other list of stuff I should say instead,” Levi said, ending the conversation as he turned around and walked away.

Or so he thought, because Erwin spoke up again. His attention was still on his paperwork while he switched the weight from one leg to the other, making the little rocks of the training ground move and crack. “Euphemisms.”

The former thug looked back over his shoulder, frowning, and asked, “What?” from a slightly bigger distance now.

“Euphemisms,” Erwin repeated as if the question was because the cadet didn’t hear it. But as soon as the blond didn’t get an answer, he proceeded to explain, “A euphemism is a word or phrase used to avoid saying an unpleasant or offensive word.”

Erwin had no intention of displaying his education to the former thug, more of a plain explanation. The blond even raised his eyes and did a slight smile as a “white flag,” not trying to sound superior in his explanation.

Levi replied with his best deadpan expression, “You surface assholes know that but not about chamomile tea? You should check your priorities.”

This time, the black-haired cadet truly walked away, hearing his superior chuckle a bit. “Check with Hange. They may have the tea,” Erwin called after him.

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously @blackdxggr @ackermanswifee Wanna join my tag list? Here!

Ps: If you ask me... Erwin know they are fucking lol

#levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackeman #levi attack on titan #captain levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captian levi x reader #captain levi ackerman x y/n #captain levi x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi x you #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titans #levi smut #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman x female!reader

[puckslxt]

JHUGHES INSTA POST IMAGINE

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jhugh thank you!

jackandy/nfanacc @/yourusername @/jhugh OMG OF COURSE! THANK YOU FOR THE REPLY!

(jhugh and yourusername liked this comment)

yourusername

yourusername welcome to the world Jacqueline @/jhugh

Liked by jhugh, lhughes_06, and 358,275 more

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jhugh so proud of you for carrying our girl for almost 10 whole months and especially proud of you for giving birth to her. Forever in awe of your strength and beauty

yourusername thank you for helping me all those months. The late night craving runs, wiping my tears away when I cried for no reason, changing my clothes, and even helping me shower… None of it went unseen and unappreciated and I love you so much for all of it

jhugh it’s the least I could do for everything you do for me

mattrempe fuck the Hudson River rivalry, Jacqueline is the best and sweetest baby ever 🥺

yourusername ladies and gents, Matt Rempe not being cocky for 5 minutes!

mattrempe yk sometimes I really despise you y/n

yourusername never that! who else is gonna be your stylist and petty maid when I’m in NY for my modeling gigs?

jhugh now Matt… Matt Matt Matt… do we have to give the people what they want? 🤨

mattrempe @/yourusername come get Jack please 😭

jhugh so lucky you’re friends with my girl cause I woulda fought you 🙄

yourusername

yourusername surprise! Welcome to the world Carson!

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jhugh Jackie is the best big sister already

yourusername I knowwww 🥺

nicohischier next Dev’s first pick? @/jhugh

jhugh oh 100% he’s got it in the bag

njdevils next Hughes in line for the team!

yourusername next number 86?

jhugh @/yourusername taking over dads number

njdevils @/yourusername @/jackhughes making those jerseys right now!

#jack hughes #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #luke hughes #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #njd #matt rempe #trevor zegras #nico hischier

[rowrowrowyourboat13]

📱 “ Obsessed? Me? Oh please.”

[ ← Previous | Next → ]

—

y/n would stay seated on the floor with the materials they needed for the project while sukuna would stay seated from the opposite direction from where you were

"if I'm being honest, I don't know how to do this"

Sukuna would scoff before rolling his eyes at your statement

"aren't you the smart one? Figure it out"

"You're also supposed to help, it's called a 'group project' for a reason so help me out."

"are you always this noisy?"

"are you always so bitchy?"

"tch, what do we even do"

"make some sort of collage that has a deep meaning behind it,"

"the fuck? Is our professor trying to see if we're mentally stable or what?"

"you don't look mentally stable for sure.."

You'd mumble in a whisper like tone making sure he wouldn't hear, but of course, he heard.

Y/n would turn her head away but the moment she did sukuna grab a hold of her shirt and pulled her back while his other hand went to go grab her chin to make her face him

"fuck did you say?"

"what? I didn't say anything? You're probably hearing the voices in your head, you look like the type to have those, put me down"

Sukuna would scoff before putting you down like you asked and crossed his arms

"whatever, were making a collage with a deep meaning behind right?"

"mhm yeah"

"just throw in some pictures and make some sad backstory,"

With his example he grabbed two random pictures before throwing it over the canvas

"there, just say it's a kid whose mother died in a car accident and is now being filed for a lawsuit"

"I don't think that's how it works.."

"says who?"

"our profes—"

"hes not here so it doesn't matter."

"I swear.."

—

After HOURS. it's finally done. Y/n would slump down towards his couch before opening her phone to check the time,

"How is it 10pm already..."

"we would've been finished if SOMEONE. wasn't complaining every 5 minutes.

"oh please. You weren't even doing it right."

Sukuna would repeat your works in a mocking and nerdy tone.

Y/n would roll her eyes before groaning

"whatever, I'm gonna head back"

"I hope you get abducted."

"..."

"what? That wasn't me it was probably the voices in your Head"

"fuck you"

"yeah you wish"

Before he could say anything else you were already out the door,

—

—

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix (comment or say so to be added !!)

A/n: guys mind you it's a slow burn so the er interesting stuff might be in part 3 or 4 🙏🙏 as always u guys can give some criticism!!

#jjk sukuna #jjk smau #jjk ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you

[chaifootsteps]

This is probably completely wrong but I remember when I first saw Ozzies I thought Blitzø was mad for a different reason. When he watches the illusion of Stella and Octavia walk away from stolas and fizz put him in the chair. He grimaces at stolas as if he’s genuinely disgusted with him for betraying his family. This is a guy who desperately loves his own family and would die before betraying them, with fizz being a grim reminder of that. He says “we don’t get rid of family” right from the beginning. But Stolas doesn’t care about that. The best he gives Via is “I know it’s a lot”

Outside the car when stolas says “Octavia is away with her mother this weekend so we could (have sex)” it’s one of the triggers that pisses blitzø off. But maybe it was me projecting, because when stolas sounded genuinely happy that Octavia was away because she isn’t permanently living in her own home anymore, so he could be alone with Blitzø I wanted to punch him. It just reminded me of Via saying that it doesn’t feel like home anymore because he ruined it.

Idk I wish I could write Blitzø because him being so family oriented while stolas is so sex and work oriented would be such an interesting conflict. It’d be a much deeper layer to him being upset with stolas too, especially because at the end of that night he looks at his photo of him his mom and his sister and that breaks him. He’d say “well if my daughter had to leave our home every weekend I’d be too busy doing anything i could to win her back to cuddle with a hooker. So why don’t you just call your kid for a change instead of sending me your booty calls. See you next full moon, boss.”

Apparently they’re having stolas do that now, prioritise his family, but it’s taken a year, two mental breakdowns from his daughter, and a full on rejection by Blitzø for him to start it. The shot where Blitzø is tugging on stolas’ arm and stolas pulls away to clench his fist in determination, it looks so fucking goofy because the roles have been utterly reversed.

Holy shit...we talk a lot about ways that scene could have gone and "reason you suck" speeches Blitzo could give Stolas, but I think this one might be the most in-character yet.

I read it in his voice, actually clapped a little. God, if only.

#Anonymous #vivziepop critical #stolitz critical #actual blog post #helluva boss critical #viv stuff

[heartsforvenus]

supernova ⛥

robin buckley x fem reader

summary- you and robin are newfound friends, but you wish you were something more. little did you know, so did she. you were both too afraid of admitting your own feelings

tags- song fic 'red wine supernova' by chappell roan, fluff, kind of angst, 'one-sided' pining, sex references, mention of drinking, the joys of a first homoerotic friendship

lowercase intended

this is lowkey trash and all over the place, but i had the idea and thought it was cute. hope you enjoy my first fic <3

i'm in the hallway waiting for ya, mini skirt and my go-go boots

"we're gonna be late!" you exclaimed, standing outside of robin's bedroom.

you had recently befriended robin buckley, one of the band geeks of hawkins high, and somehow convinced her to go to a party thrown by tommy h. not only is she your new friend, she is also your longtime crush, but that was a secret between you and your diary.

that led you to this moment, where you were standing in the hallway outside of robin's bedroom waiting for her to get ready and contemplating your life actions. robin did say that you could stay in her room while she changed, yet you knew yourself better than that. even if you were turned around and forcing your attention on the most mundane object in her room, you were sure to die of embarrassment, thinking about her bare body standing mere feet away from you.

"would you chill out? i'm getting ready for a party i didn't even want to go to, nor was i invited to for that matter," she reminded you and you leaned your head on the wall behind you.

"half the people at those parties weren't invited, he's not gonna point out you in particular," you told her and you saw her head pop out of the door.

"i look like a fucking idiot and i can't zip up this dress. let's just not go," robin decided. your body was on autopilot when you turned the corner into her room and grabbed her arm. the touch of her soft skin against your own was almost enough to make you forget what you were even doing, as she stared at you waiting for you to say something.

"let me zip it for you." your voice came out in almost a whisper as you were still kind of stunned from the previous interaction. and don't get me wrong, the two of you have touched each other before, even held hands, but you weren't sure if you would ever get over this phase.

"fine. but don't break it. maybe i can return it after tonight," robin thought aloud, which made you frown.

i just want you to make a move, so slow down, sit down, it's new

"robin, you look... i mean, this dress... it's so nice."

you mentally facepalmed at yourself. obviously she looked beautiful. this was not the first time you chickened out on complimenting her and it surely wouldn't be the last. you were honestly just saving yourself from the inevitable embarrassment. you couldn't handle the 'i only see you as a friend' from robin, that would just be the point where you would genuinely hope the ground would swallow you whole. or that you'd get hit by a car. or that the world would end.

"thanks, you can have it if you want it. it would probably look better on you anyway," robin commented, and you could feel the all too familiar feeling of warmth rising to your face.

"no..." you shook your head. you wanted to tell her that the dress looked like it was made personally for her. it showed off all her curves in a way that wasn't too revealing, but it was just enough to catch your eye as you glanced over her body in a manner that was not as discreet as you hoped.

in an attempt to change the subject, you yet again grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her out of the room.

"let's go before all the attendees get too bored and start having sex in every room," you suggested. her lack of resistance was a shock as she willingly let you drag her out of the house.

"now, how are we even getting there? if you plan on drunk driving me home then you're even worse of an influence than i thought," robin wondered, leaning back on the hood of your car.

"i was just thinking we could walk. it's not too far from here." robin groaned at your suggestion before standing up straight.

"fine, but you can carry me on the way back," robin agreed.

i just wanna get to know ya, guess i didn't quite think it through

once the two of you made it to the party, you began drinking whatever anyone would hand you in a red solo cup. you guys were stuck inside of your own bubble, accidentally ignoring everyone around you to just speak to each other. you each spoke about your families and your deepest fears, but there was always that one thing on the tip of your tongue that you couldn't force out.

not here, you'd tell yourself, someone might hear and then everyone will know.

as if she could read your mind, robin narrowed her eyes and asked, "what's on your mind?"

"oh, it's nothing," you promised her, not realizing your dilemma was so evident on your face. or maybe she could just read you that well already.

"right... well i just told you about how i literally peed my pants a year ago, so i think we can talk about anything." her blue eyes pierced into your soul, and you so badly wanted to tell her what you were thinking about. another day.

"i was just thinking about how embarrassing it is to pee your pants," you lied and she giggled, that giggle that would've had you weak in the knees had you been standing.

"okay, you jerk, i'm sure you've done embarrassing things too." she pushed your shoulder lightly.

"not yet," you told her. she shook her head, wondering why you were such an enigma, and why it always felt like there was something you weren't telling her. for a moment you snapped out of your bubble to notice everyone around you was either making out or passed out, just as you had predicted. "maybe we should take this as our cue to leave."

this caused robin to notice her surroundings for the first time and jokingly gag, which caught the attention of one of the girls who was kissing some guy. she just glared back at her, and robin jumped up.

"yeah, let's go before this girl beats the shit out of me," robin, wide eyed, agreed. the two of you clumsily rushed out of the front door, passing more and more couples until you finally made it out into the night.

there was a breeze in the air, but it wasn't too cold. you hoped that robin wasn't cold, because you didn't bring a jacket to offer her. she hoped the same about you.

fell in love with the thought of you, now i'm choked up, face down, burnt out

now, you were laying next to her in her bed. wearing her spare pjs, literally surrounded by her scent. you couldn't sleep, because you were thinking about the girl beside you, as you often did in the middle of the night. usually in your own bed, though, so being near her was making it much worse. you had half a mind to just leave, but you didn't know if you'd ever have the opportunity to sleep in her bed ever again. you certainly wouldn't once she found out what you were, or so you thought.

you felt her shuffle closer to you, and you tensed up. she had been jerking about the bed the whole time, but you didn't expect her to unconsciously move closer to you.

god, you had it worse than you thought.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #stranger things #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader fanfic #maya hawke #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #robin stranger things #stranger things x reader #robin buckley fanfic #wlw #wlw fanfiction #fxf

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part 4

authors note: the love and response to this story continues to absolutely floor me. you guys are all so sweet! i was nervous about posting, but everyone has made me feel so happy that i did, so thank you!

couple of hints about things sprinkled through this one. the more i write, the more things are getting fleshed out, so idk how many parts this will be atp, nothing too crazy though!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angst, fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 5.8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @shayaaaaaaa @usoholic @brokenglassslippers @gators-aid @dersha89 @southerngirl41 @empressdede

You couldn't eat. 

Couldn't sleep.

Could barely think straight.

All that consumed you, ate at you, gnawed at your sanity was one thought and one thought alone.

He wanted to take her from you. 

Joe wanted to take your daughter from you, your four year old daughter who still couldn't even go to sleep at night unless she got to see or speak to you.

The daughter who he'd only known existed just recently but was seemingly set on ripping away from you.

That thought destroyed you, made you raw from blistering agony at just the idea of not having Callie with you full time. It destroyed you to the point that you decided to throw some clothes on, hop in your car, and set your google maps for the hotel you knew he’d be staying at. Damn the fact that it was the middle of the night or that you were stupid as hell for being in that situation in the first place. None of that mattered. 

You needed to talk to him, and you needed to talk to him now. 

Joe opens the door with a forceful swing, looking as irritated and disheveled as you’d expect one to look at nearly 1am in the morning. However, when his eyes land on you, confusion meshes with irritation. “Y/N?”

“Hi.” It’s said in a breathy tone. You're struggling to remember the script you rehearsed the whole drive there. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late—”

“What the..….” He sighs heavily and steps aside, motioning for you to come in. “Get in here.”

You don’t need to be told twice, looking around the hotel room that looks so plain and undeserving of someone with Joe’s stature. But, you also know this area isn’t exactly saturated with 5 star hotels, far from it. This is probably the most elite one he could find with such short notice, and it’s not bad at all, just….basic.

He clears his throat, and you return your attention to the man who you just realized is also shirtless. If not for the pending mental breakdown you’re fighting to keep at bay, it would be extremely distracting. Joe is a lot of things, and fine as hell is at the top of that list.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He sounds exhausted, and you can’t tell if it’s from the argument earlier that day or being woken up in the middle of the night. Probably both. 

“I just—I need to talk to you.”

“Now?” 

Nodding, you continue. “I know….I know I messed up, okay? I should have told you, but I just—I need you to look at it from my perspective. I need you to just hear me out, and if—if you still feel the same way, then–then I’ll have to deal with that….but please.” 

He’s leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed, taking time to answer as he weighs your offer. Finally, he concedes, “you came all the way over here. I’m not just gonna send you away.”

You’re thankful for him being willing to at least hear some of what you have to say. “Callie.....she was conceived the last time we were together.” Not sure if that part was necessary or the best way to start out, you quickly move on to the next point. “I didn’t find out I was pregnant until two months later. And on top of not knowing what the fuck to feel, I barely knew what to do. I was pregnant by a married man that I’d been sleeping with for three years. A married, famous man at that. Who I finally decided I needed to move on from.” 

Revisiting this is harder than you expected, harder than when you rehearsed it on your drive here. “I was scared, Joe, okay? I was scared, so I—I did what I thought was best at that time, and clearly it was wrong. I 100% own up to that, and you get to be angry with me, but you don’t get to let that anger influence your decision making, because it is.” 

This is the part you debated so deeply on whether to say or not say, to potentially poke the already irate bear. But, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t speak up for yourself and your daughter. “You want a legal custody arrangement, and I understand why, but—Joe, your name isn’t even on her birth certificate, but to tell you the truth…..I wanted it to be. I did.” Whether he believes you or not is on him, but it’s true. Because while he wasn't present in her life, he was still her father. Nothing would change that. “They wouldn’t do it without you present and without a paternity test—”

“I could have been there,” he interrupts, sounding more hurt than anything. “I should have been there.” 

“You’re right, but you weren’t, and I’m sorry for that too. I’m not trying to make any excuses here, just lay out facts. And the fact is that you can get a paternity test, you can establish paternity, and you can try to secure joint custody, but we both know there’s no way you can take her on. You work nonstop, Joe, and she can’t be on the road like that. She’s four for fucks sake. Calista needs stability, and she has that with me. You know I’m right.”

And you can see that he sees you’re right, the wheels turning in his head as he takes in your sound predictions.

“And I know you don’t right now, and that’s okay, but I am asking you to please trust me enough to know that I will not get in the way of you getting to know Calista. Trust that I only want what’s best for her, I’ve only ever wanted what was best for her.”

“Why should I?” Despite his words, you can see and hear the crumbling of his defenses, of the brick and mortar wall he'd erected earlier during the first round of this conversation. “What’s different now?”

“Because she asked about you.” This is the part that crushes you the most, that makes you wonder if you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself for even putting her in that situation. “Because she thinks you’re not in her life because she’s not a good girl, and I will not have my child grow up thinking she wasn’t good enough for her father to want to be in her life.”

You won’t let her grow up like you.

Period.

Having this discussion, saying these things aloud, you’re slowly starting to recognize how some of your own unaddressed issues have contributed to this situation. How your refusal to confront buried trauma has bled into another generation. It’s…..uncomfortable, to say the least.

And something you definitely need to revisit, probably sooner rather than later. Just…not right now. 

You’ve got to sort this through first.

It’s after a few minutes of silence that he finally speaks, voice surprisingly calm. “You’re right.” You let out a deep breath, nearly falling back at his words. You knew he was wavering but not to the point where he would yield. “I know….I know our situation is complicated, and I’m sorry for being so cold with you. I just—fuck, I don’t know how to process all of this.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Neither do I, but we can figure it out, because we can’t…..we can’t put her through a custody battle. I won’t do that.” Despite your very valid facts, you also recognize that while he probably wouldn’t win, he has access to the best legal team money can buy and would outlast you in court by miles. 

You won’t say it aloud, not even sure if you can, but you’d soon rather concede than put her through that. You’d give him whatever he asked for if it meant sparing her from that trauma. 

It’s a far cry from your stance hours earlier, but time and actually thinking things through made you realize the pain you’d experience at having Callie taken from you would be nothing compared to what that experience would do to her. You know custody disputes can be long and nasty, and though she was still young, you didn’t want to find out if they would question her. 

You’d sacrifice your soul and surrender. 

You loved her enough to let her go.

“You’re right.” He repeats himself, even and calm. It’s such a stark difference for both of you compared to the blowup from earlier. There’s actual communication occurring, talking with each other, instead of at each other. Listening to hear, not to react. “I—I couldn’t do that to you. I spoke out of anger. My schedule is crazy and she needs stability. You give her that.”

There’s an insurmountable amount of relief that washes over you at his words. It’s night and day from the angry—though rightfully—man that stood before you earlier today. And you couldn’t be more grateful. 

“Thank you.” There aren’t enough words to adequately express the depth of your gratitude. Joe is well within his right to be upset, and like you said, you’ll take whatever that is, so long as the both of you can agree that Callie being with you is for the best. For her, but for you too. You won’t deny that. Your daughter is your life, and the thought of being without her, even for a period of time makes you sick to your stomach. “I–” You wipe your eyes, completely unaware that you’d been crying at one point, the tears starting to dry up. “I’m taking off work tomorrow and keeping her home. You…you can come over once I pick her up from Mariah's."

His eyes light up with appreciation that matches your own for his willingness to look past his feelings to do what’s best for your child. “Yeah?”

You offer a small smile. “I’ll probably get her around 10 and text you when you can head over.”

He nods, and the excitement in his expression warms you. It’s so strange how you can go through so many emotions in such a short time regarding the man in front of you. He always has been able to evoke things out of you that no one else could.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

The way he takes you in, assessing you, it makes you shift your weight from one foot to another. Your hoodie suddenly feels too heavy, warmth climbing up to your cheeks. “I—” You gesture to the door with your thumb. “I should head out.” 

It’s when you turn to leave that he grabs your wrist to stop you. 

“Where are you going?”

Your brow lifts at his tone and words, confused by the quick change and his hand on your arm. “Umm, home?” 

“Like hell you are.” His dismissal is firm and final as he informs, “you'll crash here tonight.” Your face must be painted in defiance, because he explains, “it's almost 2 in the morning, and you look exhausted. I'm not letting you get on the road. Anything could happen.”

“Joe—”

He lifts his hand, silencing you as he points to the middle of the room. “You can take the bed. It's uncomfortable anyway.”

Ironically, a small yawn escapes, further proving his point. You are exhausted, in several different ways. The idea of driving back home right now is not nearly as appealing as sleeping off the day's events. “Okay.” Remembering his comment, you add, “you could have picked one of those fancy hotels ya'll stay in, you know.”

“I don't think there's anything ‘fancy’ within 30 miles of here.” He's not entirely wrong, the town's local steakhouse is considered the definition of fine dining and hotspot for special occasions. 

“There were once rumors of a Hilton being built.”

He looks almost hopeful. “When was that?”

You bite down on your lip. “When I was in middle school.” A small laugh escapes at his look of exasperation. 

“You should take the bed. It's gotta be more comfortable than the alternative.” Truly, because the idea of Joe's big ass trying to sleep on a damn fold out sofa is both hilarious and tragic. “I just need a shirt.”

He looks at you. “A shirt?”

“Yeah.”

“Because…..”

Rolling your eyes, you tug at your old college hoodie. “I can't sleep in this. It's uncomfortable as hell. I dress light at night. You know—” And you stop yourself, because he shouldn’t remember that you always sleep in either a big shirt or thin top and shorts, never more, oftentimes nothing at all when he was in town.

For obvious reasons.

You’re grateful when he turns away and digs through his bag, probably the only one he took with him. He always traveled lightly. He comes back, reaching you one of his black t-shirts. 

“Thanks.” Accepting the item, you walk over to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Standing in the mirror, you take in your appearance. Joe was being nice by saying you look exhausted, cause you look like shit, every bit of the days events, loud and blaring. Blowing out a breath, you start removing your clothes but pause when you go to remove your bra.

Is that….is that too much? You haven’t slept in a bra in years. Not since puberty randomly hit you over the summer between freshman and sophomore year, where you went from a modest A cup to a whopping D. And post Callie body definitely wasn’t a D anymore. It just seems….it seems indecorous. 

Deciding to go with safe instead of sorry, you swallow your discomfort and keep your bra on. With the hair tie on your wrist, you do your best to pineapple your hair, knowing good and well it’ll be frizzfest when you wake up but not really caring. 

Another yawn leaves your mouth as you walk out the bathroom only to turn into a scowl as you find Joe sitting on the sofa on his phone.

If it wasn’t so late and you weren’t so tired, you’d argue with him why it’s stupid of you to take the bed. He’s at least a foot taller than you. But, you don’t have it in you so just mutter “stubborn asshole,” place your folded clothes on the dresser, and climb into the bed. 

You double check your alarm is still set for the right time and lean across the bed to place it on the nightstand. There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you for a couple of minutes, your eyes closing as you try to sleep, even if for a couple of hours before you have to get back on the road. 

“What is she like?”

Your eyes open at his question, unexpected but understood. You think about it, wondering how to answer, how to explain all of the wonderful things that is your child. Finally, you settle on an answer, soft and honest. 

“You'll find out for yourself tomorrow.” And turning on your side, you murmur, “goodnight, Joe.”

He doesn’t say anything after that.

But while you sleep with the hope of believing that this can be worked out between the two of you, Joe lies awake, taking his turn with mind running a mile a minute.

He knew this would be difficult, knew it was going to get ugly to some extent, but what he didn’t expect was how impacted he'd be by seeing you again.

There was a stark difference between seeing you in photos and seeing you in person. His anger at the situation helped him to not react as strongly, but not as much as he liked or needed it to.

Because regardless of all his outrage, he’d missed you.

Even with your deception, with your deceit and all of his confusing emotions toward you in this whole situation, he missed you. 

Joe might not be ready to admit it aloud, but he’s never gotten over you. And not for lack of trying. He’d had a period where he tried to fuck away his feelings, tried to busy himself in between the legs of other women, his favorite distraction when he was in his twenties. Tried to remind himself that it was never meant to turn into anything anyway, that it wasn’t a big deal. But his efforts were fruitless and a waste of time.

He cared about you, he cared about you, arguably, more than he’d ever cared about a woman. Even….even Jadah.

The night you ended things was still a sore spot for him, still something he plays over in his head trying to make sense of. On the surface level, it’s pretty plain and simple. You wanted more, he couldn’t give it to you, so you moved on. 1+1. He was legally married for fucks sake. He couldn’t blame you for wanting more, but there was also a part of him that wondered why you didn’t just ask him for more.

Then again, that went both ways. Why didn’t he ask you for more?

It’s easy to say it was because of Jadah, because of his marriage, and that was both true and untrue. On his part, anyway. Divorce was easy in name but far from it in every other area. And for him, meant being forced to confront demons he tried his best to keep at bay. Up until two months ago, at least

Joe closes his eyes. This is all too much. 

He came here ready to confront you, and he had, in fucked up way, even if partially deserved. He came here to meet his daughter, to begin to form a bond with her, and he will do that. He just has to push the complicated feelings for you to the side and place them on the backburner until he can sort through that mess.

Calista is his priority right now. Whatever this is between you and him can be figured out later.

Hopefully. 

________

“She can be shy until she gets to know you.”

The day seems to have escaped you, getting on the road early in the morning to drive back and prepare to pick up Callie. She’s thrilled to see you, and vice versa. The two of you spend the beginning of the morning together, stopping at a local diner to share a breakfast before heading back to your apartment. You spend a little more time together, one on one, before texting Joe to head over, staying true to your word. 

Especially since he informed you that he had to fly out tomorrow morning. You expected as such, knowing he’d probably already been gone longer than higher ups liked. He could only push the limits so much. 

You don’t even have to be looking at him to know he’s nervous, an understandable but strange thing. Weird almost. Joe’s a lot of things, but nervous has never been one of them. “But once she gets comfortable, she won’t shut up.” That makes him smile, and you’re grateful for that.  Sure enough, you find Callie in her playroom, which used to be your office space, but the more spoiled she became from your mom, the more you realized her room was too small for all of her stuff. “Hey, Callie Bear.”

Callie looks up, smile bright as she runs over to you. You lean down to meet her hug. She gives the best, loving hugs. “I’m making you something, mommy.”

You gasp. “You are? Well, I can’t wait to see it.”

“It’s a surprise, so no peeking!” She lifts her little finger, wagging it in your face. Laughing, you nod and push back some of her curls. Callie’s eyes then land on Joe’s massive frame standing near the doorway, silently observing. You can see the emotions so clearly on his face: surprise, shock, happiness.

Callie’s smile dims as she moves closer to you, holding you close, her stranger danger kicking in. A small part of you is grateful that even at almost five, she knows to be cautious. Then there’s the other part of you that’s saddened at the fact that the “stranger” she’s cautious of is her own father. “Baby, this is….this is….”

“I’m Joe,” he finishes for you, and you’re both grateful and annoyed. Conflicted because a small part of you wanted to be the one to tell her, but also grateful he ironically took that responsibility off of you. “I’m an old friend of your mom’s.”

Welp.

That’s not….that’s not what you expected him to say, not what you two discussed. It wasn’t explicitly stated, but you were under the impression that they would tell her the truth. His statement isn’t exactly a lie, you did once consider Joe to be a friend, much more than that, but still. Joe’s role in Callie’s life is significantly more than that. 

This seems to ebb away some of Callie’s caution as she asks, “really?” Her eyes fall on you, almost looking for approval. With a tight smile, you nod, giving her the relief she needs to loosen her hold on you. “Do you like Disney?” That causes you to genuinely laugh, something your sweet child definitely inherited from both you and your mom was a love of Disney. 

“I do,” he answers, and you pause. Does he really? Perhaps. Regardless, it’s a smart answer for your Disney loving child. “Do you?”

Callie nods happily, grabbing your arm and twisting it to show the ‘remember who you are’ tattoo on your wrist. “Mommy and grandma have Disney tattoos, and mommy’s gonna get a Moana one for me!”

“Really?” Joe, now crouched down to be at her eye level, sounds genuinely interested, and maybe he is. Callie is impressively charismatic at only four. She’s also his daughter who he’s wanting to develop a relationship with, so it’s not far-fetched that she could be talking to him about the rate at which grass grows, and he would entertain it like he was watching a 49ers game. “You like Moana?”

Is water wet? “She’s the bestest! Right, mommy?” 

You chuckle, fixing her shirt. “She watches it almost every day.” You always found it interesting, ironic even, that your daughter instantly gravitated to Moana, unaware that the voice of freaking Maui is her cousin, that she too had pacific islander ancestry. Through her dad. The dad you kept from her. 

“You know I don’t know if I’ve seen that one—”

Callie’s mouth drops open as she looks at you, “mommy, can we watch it? Please? Please? Pleeeeaaassseeee?”

“Okay, okay, okay,” you relent after pretending to think about it. You like to limit her screentime to two hours, and even though she already watched The Princess and the Frog earlier for the 97th time this month, there was no way you were not gonna allow this bonding opportunity. 

Squealing, Callie surprises you by breaking away and moving over to Joe, reaching for his hand. “Let’s go, Joe!” She pulls on the sleeve of his hoodie, probably to lead him into the living room where Disney Plus is signed in. 

Alone in her playroom, you run over what just happened. You thought you would tell her the truth, tell her that this is the father she was asking about, the one she thought didn’t want her when in actuality, he wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

And for a second, you get pissed off. Why wasn’t Joe honest with her? Isn’t this what he wanted? To be in her life. It’s confusing. He is confusing. But….you try to give him the benefit of the doubt, certain that he must have some reason behind his actions. You just hope they’re damn good reasons.

“Mommy!” You know that tone of hers, the tone that tells you a request is to follow. 

You shout back, “yes?”

“Joe likes popcorn too! Can we have some?”

You laugh and shake your head, shouting out an ‘okay’. Walking out of the room and into the living room, you find Callie near the TV, arm outstretched as she explains every detail of Moana, even the most obvious ones. But, Joe is sitting on the sofa, watching and listening intently. His smile is stapled. 

He looks…..he looks so happy.

Moving into the kitchen, you move around quietly to not interrupt and to get their popcorn made.

Waiting for the popcorn to finish, you hear Callie ‘whisper’ to Joe, “Mommy can’t cook, but she makes good snacks.”

Amid his laughter, you walk near the living room, hands on her hips. “I heard that, little ms. ma’am.”

“That’s what Grandma says,” Callie defends with a shrug of her little shoulders. “She says mommy is pretty and smart and funny, but she burns water.” She looks off, confused, as if it’s finally registering to her that that doesn’t make sense. “Mommy, how do you burn water?”

Joe is on the sofa, hand over his mouth, fighting for his life. You also can’t help but laugh at the absolutely serious look on her face. “Finish your movie.” 

The microwave dings, so you grab two bowls and fill them up equally. Delivering them to both, you place hers on the coffee table as she’s back to narrating. “Popcorn, as requested.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes go wide with excitement as she suddenly asks, “will you watch it with us?”

Damn. You had a feeling she would ask but was hoping she wouldn’t. Disappointing her twice in one weekend felt criminal. “Callie, I'm super behind with work.”

“Pleeeeasssseeee.” She starts with the begging again and then looks at Joe to inform him, “mommy’s a teacher. Do you have a job?”

Joe chuckles. “I do.”

“What do you do?” She asks in a sing-song tone. You give him that ‘I told you she never shuts up’ look. 

“I’m a professional wrestler.”

She’s clearly intrigued, asking, “are you actually good?”

“Callie!” This little girl and her lack of filter sometimes never ceases to amaze you. Your mom swears up and down it’s your payback from how blunt you were as a child. 

You’re starting to believe it.

Joe gives a shrug, clearly loving every bit of this. You can tell he wants her to keep the questions coming. He’ll answer em’ all if it means getting to spend time with her. “I’m alright.”

At that, you give him a look and crouch down to her level. “He’s very good.” You take the remote and quickly pause the TV, adding on, “matter of fact, he’s the universal undisputed champion.” Joe gives you a look, and you can tell he’s surprised by you knowing this piece of information.

You don’t watch wrestling as much as you used to, partially due to what happened between the two of you, mostly because you don’t have the time, but even non-wrestling people know about Roman Reigns and his current, historic title reign. You’re not sure if you’d feel entirely comfortable saying it to him, but you’re massively proud of Joe and all he’s accomplished. You always knew he could do it.

Her eyes widen with excitement and curiosity as she looks at Joe for clarification. “Really?”

“That is true.” 

Head tilted, she moves away from you and climbs on the sofa to sit next to him. Her little legs crossed over as she continues with the questions. “What does undis—undis—”

He helps her out, also angling his body more toward her. “Undisputed?” 

“Yeah! What does that mean?”

You can see he’s taking a minute to decide how to answer. “It means I don’t lose. Ever.”

“Whoooaaaa,” she breathes, obviously impressed. “You must eat a lot of veggies. I don’t like them, but mommy says they make you big and strong.”

“Your mom is right,” he agrees and looks her over. “You’re a very smart little girl. How old are you again? Like 15?”

“No, I’m four!” She giggles and lifts up four fingers. “But, I’ll be five on May 19th!”

His gaze softens. “Your birthday is in May?” She nods, happily. His smile is warm, emotional. “So is mine.”

You still for a moment. You hadn’t even thought about that, that her birthday was just days away from his. There’s something strangely sweet and moving about this fact, both to you and definitely to him.

“Really?” 

And that’s how it plays out for the rest of the day, a combination of Callie’s incessant questions, intermittent viewing of Moana and parts of Encanto. Lunch and dinner sprinkled somewhere in between. You’re even able to sneak off to do your lesson planning, Callie more than fine with just Joe to entertain her.

It warms your heart to see them connect almost instantaneously.

It’s why you wait as long as you can to interrupt, never wanting to do so, to invade their moment. But, you also know your daughter, know that she needs a certain amount of sleep to function the next day. And when you check in on them and catch her yawning, you know it’s unfortunately that time.

Sighing, you enter the living room with your arms crossed. “Callie Bear, it’s time to start getting ready for bed, mamas.”

“Nooo.” She whines. “I’m not tired.” Her groggy voice and scowl would indicate otherwise. 

“Of course, you’re not.” You bend down in front of her and reach for her hand. “Come on, we gotta tell Joe bye. He’s gotta get back to his hotel.” Despite her obvious objections, she climbs off the sofa and accepts your hand but not before looking at him. 

“Will you come over again tomorrow?” She asks with hopeful eyes and a voice of excitement, both things that make being honest with her that much harder.

He obviously doesn’t want to give her the truth, but it’s better than the alternative. With a frown, he answers, “I wish….but I’ve gotta get back to work tomorrow, Callie.”

Her smile drops, and sadness arises. “Why? Do you have to go?” Her quiet voice is comprised of disappointment and despondency. You can tell it hurts him. Her hope is dashed, replaced with sadness. “When will you come back?”

“As soon as he can.” You jump in to assist, hating the way he looks so devastated not having a specific date for her. Truth be told, you wouldn’t be surprised if he won’t be able to get away for another few weeks, if not more. “And you know what, you can use my iPad to Facetime him when he’s available anytime you want.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?” 

“Of course,” he assures. He reaches to push some hair out of her face. “I’ll call you whenever I can.”

She gives him a small smile. “You promise?” 

Joe swallows. “I promise, sweetheart.” 

Pleased and obviously ecstatic at this information, she surprises the both of you by tearing her hand from you to throw her little arms around him for an unexpected hug. You’re not sure why, but the sight makes your eyes water. His eyes close as he gently wraps his arms around her as well. You look away, almost uncomfortable interrupting this moment between the two of them.

When she pulls away, you swear you see disappointment reappear in his eyes. “Bye, Joe.” 

She returns to your side, and you gently direct her, “go put on your jammies and pick out a book. I’ll be right there in a few minutes, okay?” 

“Okay, mommy.” Without protest, she turns and heads back to her room. When it’s just the two of you, you turn to him, “she really likes you.” It feels silly saying such a thing. He’s her father. She should like him. She should love him.

But you also know better than anyone that being someone’s biological parent doesn’t automatically make them a parent. 

“That’s why you didn’t tell her, isn’t it? You want to gain her friendship first.” In watching and participating in the interaction between them, it dawned on you just why he didn’t tell her right away. Joe wanted to first establish a baseline with Callie, wanted her to get to know him just for him, to bond with him not because he was her dad, but because she wanted to. 

And clearly….clearly it worked. 

“She’s amazing,” he whispers. You see he’s still caught up in the emotion of it all, meeting his daughter for the first time, connecting with her as quickly and easily as he has.

“She is,” you agree, suddenly remembering why you’d dismissed Callie. “I–I uhh, I have something for you.” Standing back up—your knees were gonna hate you tomorrow—you pull the thumbdrive out of the back pocket of your jeans. He also stands with you. “I was that new mom who was intent on documenting every single thing my kid did, and I’m kinda glad I did now.” You reach and drop it in his open palm. “I got everything on video. Her first word, first time crawling, first time walking….all of it.” Suddenly uncomfortable with his silence, you add on, “I know it’s not the same as being there, but—”

“Thank you.” he interrupts in a quiet voice, immensely grateful to you at this moment. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

Emotion seems to be the keyword of the day, because yours are also all over the place, for a variety of reasons. It’s an experience that’s both overwhelming and confusing, but also….nice? You can’t necessarily describe it, but there’s something comforting about Joe having a role in Callie’s life.

But that doesn’t equate with your decision to not tell him about her in the first place, hence why you’re a hot ass, confused mess.

He’s making you feel things again, and you don’t like it. 

“I know getting back here won’t be easy, especially with the holidays rolling around. But, whenever you can come, you’re welcome. I mean it.” Thanksgiving is less than 3 weeks away. You’re highly doubtful he’ll be touching down before then. “Christmas is her favorite holiday. I know she’d love to have you here for that.”

“I’ll be back before Christmas and for Christmas.” You don’t know how, but you do know he’s convinced of it, and you don’t put it past him. He seems entirely determined. 

“Okay.” You walk him to the door, unsure why your bodies being so close to each other is an uncomfortable yet pleasing feeling. “Oh,” you suddenly remember something. “You need to make a Snapchat account.”

He scowls almost instantly. “A what?” A small laugh escapes you at his instant disgust. “I’m too old for that shit.”

“We both are, but it’s an easy way for me to share Callie and all her randomness with people. Make it and send me the username. I’ll add you.” It seems all it takes is for you to mention Callie, and he’s sold. He nods in agreement, all distaste washed away with the eagerness of receiving photos and videos of Callie on the regular. You keep your hand on the door, chewing on your lip, murmuring, “Goodnight, Joe.” 

He gives you a look, something unspoken in his eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N.” 

Closing the door behind you, you lock it and take a deep breath, unsure why your stomach is in knots. Not from anxiety or fear but happiness. 

You’re happy to have Joe back in your life, even with all of the bullshit that’s transpired in this single day. There’s something relieving about having him around, and you know it’s for Callie. It needs to be just for Callie, because what you can never do again is allow yourself to fall back into that situation. 

No matter how badly your heart and your head are clashing right now.

No matter how much you're starting to wonder if your heart ever really left that situation.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #aris notebook #roman reigns fic #roman reigns

[thepalmofyourfreezinghand]

Like… fans have freely (absolutely FREELY) discussed Joe’s mental health for months and months. They took every liberty imaginable.

They accused him of not trying to get better (which is not how depression works, btw: clinical depression - which is what fans have always believed Joe suffers from even though he’s never talked about it himself - is not something you can just “get over”). They accused him of bringing Taylor down with him, saying that dating someone who suffers from depression is not worth it. They accused him of cheating on her and hiding behind his depression. They accused him of “making” her drink, saying that it was not a coincidence she left him after she gave up alcohol in preparation for the tour (yeah! I haven’t forgotten that extremely insensitive post by a very popular account on here! It’s actually one of the reasons that made me say “fuck it” and leave). They accused him of faking his depression and gaslighting her. They repeatedly called him “worthless” for being sad.

I’m glad the album is good and everyone got over it and Taylor might be engaged (happy for her!), but a lot of fans on here (even very big accounts) have been absolutely disgraceful and ignorant about depression and I’ll unfortunately never get over it.

#joe alwyn #taylor swift

[anxiousdreamcore]

May I humbly asks for your interpretation/opinion/view of the Spider & Quaritch as well as the Spider & Sullies relationships/dynamics ?

Sure! I’ve complained about how my opinion of the characters changed throughout the year of being engaged in the fandom so I might as well share! 🤭

Spider: An audacious, frat-boy-ish teen who stinks of dirt, sweat and will eat a live bug to gross you out. Kiri said that he bites and she was 100% honest because this kid will fling his mask off and tear into your throat if you mess with his baby siblings 😤 at the same time, he’s more than capable of being responsible and gentle, especially when it comes to Pandora, its wildlife and cultures, all of which are clearly very important to him. A menace with a heart of gold and an iron fucking will, untameable. Unbreakable. No authority scares him.

Quaritch: A man so damaged he can’t be repaired. He’s seen too many horrors, killed too many people, watched too many comrades die, has been infected with too much poison. It runs in his veins and destroys everything he touches…which is precisely why he is only likeable as a father. He has never been one before and that part of him is completely new, not yet damaged. The only part of him not yet tainted by the rotten creature that is the rest of him. A mangy, old army dog that will burn Pandora to the ground if its chain is broken, but will lie down and wag its tail for his child, and only him.

Oh, and he’s mentally ill too, at least to some extent, canonically. It’s not to say that his mental illness makes him a bad guy. No. It’s the lack of care he puts into coping with it that contributes to the dumpster fire that is Miles Quaritch. My personal headcannon is that he needs mood-stabilisers yet regularly skips them.

Spider & Quaritch dynamic: Two outcasts who bond over being isolated by their respective groups. Also, Lima and Stockholm syndrome duo! Quaritch gets an instant liking to Spider that soon grows into fatherly love, as Spider brings out the best in him; his most pure, childish and kind traits. Does the rest of him, the rotten, the poisoned, hate it? Oh, absolutely. But he can’t, won’t stop the wild-child from worming his way deep into his decaying heart. Spider meanwhile battles his own platonic feelings and holds onto his resentment as much as he can. He wants to love Miles but he doesn’t. He loves him but he wishes him an agonising death. He wants to be hugged by him and sink a blade into his chest. He wants Miles to prove him that not all grown ups are rotten and he can still be loved. He wants Miles to love him.

Spider & Sully siblings dynamic: “A family disappointment and local cool stoner to his siblings, who are more than happy to take after him because they think his utter freedom and lack of care for authority is cool” kinda vibe. Will play fight with his siblings and bite their noses before kissing them better and shoving them away. Calls Tuk a little gremlin affectionately. Brings Lo’ak back down to Pandora when he spirals into his insecurities or gets too bold and self-sacrificial. Is platonic soulmates with Kiri and feels a profound connection to her, as she does to him. Resents Neteyam for abandoning their little group to become a "respectable warrior". Wants him back. Wishes things could be like when they were kids.

Spider & Neytiri dynamic: She she sees him as a pesky, dangerous demon child that…that didn’t do anything but stay loyal, through all the torture and horrors. A lot of guilt is present between them after the final battle, and they will definitely have a horrible, explosive argument about it sooner or later, but for now they are content at silently sharing space, at time quipping and taking light jabs at each other, because that is their cycle. Playfulness, fear, resentment, until it all explodes and they scream at each other, then the cycle repeats, fuelled by guilt. Is there a chance to stop it? Will they ever be okay?

Spider & Jake dynamic: Hero worship turned disappointment. Spider idolised him for his status and incredible feats as a child but as he grew, and Jake consistently kept him at an arms length without establishing clear boundaries, the constant pining to have him as a father became a never-ending, aching pain in Socorro’s chest. Jake gave him an empty hope that they might one day be a family, without ever clarifying that it’ll never be true, confusing the boy until he was proved not once, not twice, but thrice, that he isn’t needed, isn’t missed, or loved by Jake. He’s a stray animal, and that is all he’ll ever be to him. He knows better now than to wish for something that can never be…doesn’t even want to. Quaritch might be a horrific monster, but at least he genuinely loves him. He doesn’t need Jake’s pathetic scraps of affection anymore. He doesn’t need him anymore.

•

#atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow sully family #sully family #atwow jake sully #avatar jake sully #Jake sully #atwow spider #spider socorro #atwow neytiri #neytiri sully #neytiri #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar loak #lo’ak sully #atwow loak #atwow neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam #atwow kiri #Kiri sully #atwow quaritch #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar way of water

[lobotomyladylives]

well. I just stumbled across an account of a young woman who talks about how her demon of a father killed her mother, burnt their house down, killed himself, and left her a letter "congratulating" her, saying it was all her fault, that she had destroyed their family by exhibiting very normal teenage moodiness and daring to call him by his first name rather than dad (she was 17 years old at the time).

and as always men in the comments were defending him and saying the mother and daughter "obviously" pushed him too far. these comments appear in droves under every news story I see on youtube where a wife tries to leave an abusive spouse and he kills her. I specifically remember a case where the mother was tortured, raped, and killed by the ex husband, and many men in the commrnts were saying "it's amazing this doesn't happen more often with what women put us through and the corrupt divorce courts, he was clearly a good man pushed to the brink and his bitch wife tried to take the kids so she brought it on herself" like that's the level of psychopathic misogyny we are dealing with here from not only extremist incels but your basic redpill mgtow bro. and there are SO FUCKING MANY OF THEM. never forget that these men want you tortured, they want you raped, they want you dead for not accepting abuse and bowing to a mans every whims, even if that man is someone they've never met before. they will always empathize with the male, always assume he's morally correct even when his acts are so unbelievably monstrous. no misandrist in the world is as full of hate as the average man in one of these communities. they're demons.

related rant-I know it's not unheard of for mothers to kill their families too, but in my research into the topic I've found that a significant amount of the time it's due to post partum psychosis (and they still get thrown in jail for it usually, Andrea Yates is a great example and that was entirely her fucking husbands fault for forcing her into pregnancy after pregnancy despite them exacerbating her mental health issues, and then leaving her alone with the kids when she beged him not to) or because they snapped due to the pressure of caring for a usually very difficult child all alone after the father abandoned them (not an excusable solution, but explainable due to the immense stress). I mention this bc men always point out that mothers have a slightly higher chance of killing their kids than fathers, of course without mentioning that this is without adjusting for the fact that fathers can and do often just fuck off from their responsibilities and disappear, don't have to deal with PPP, and if you adjust the data based on who's more likely to kill their kids when they are present in the home it becomes skewed towards fathers. and there's the fact that a whopping 92% of children killed by someone other than a parent are killed by men (and usually raped beforehand).

anyways, all of this to say that as opposed to female family annihilators who are usually undergoing a psychotic break, male family annihilators seem to be very calm and calculated and want to inflict the most unimaginable cruelty upon their own kin as a way of "getting back" at someone-usually the mother for leaving them, as they often leave her alive after killing all the kids just so she can suffer-but in the case I began this post by talking about it was the daughter he left alive and sent that disgusting letter. she says in her videos that she essentially hasn't felt emotions in 3 years because her grief and guilt was so strong that her brain just shut it all down as a protective measure. so joy is nonexistent for her now.

onto the person element of all this...im just thinking of those kids again. most of you guys probably are aware that I was very well aquatinted with a family that was annihilated by the father (it happened in Iowa city in 2008 which is enough info for you to know what case it is if you want to look into it. I've never revealed this before but people always ask me whenever I mention it and I don't think my identity can be traced this way so I guess it's fine). it happened when I was 13 and the thought that my own very unstable, volatile, and abusive father could do the same to us never left me. it wasn't the first time I'd considered the possibility (I was 8 or 9 when I had to imagine it happening due to an incident we had) but after that it was a constant worry, especially when the divorce was happening.

idk why I'm ranting about this it's all just really getting to me tonight. I wonder how much of this could be prevented if cops stopped ignoring women's cries for help until we're fucking dead

#the family i knew who were annihilated were killed bc the father was gonna go to prison for embezzlement. fucking coward couldnt just #own up to his actions. his wife and kids had to be bludgeoned to death for his sins #i still cant believe it. those kids must have been terrified

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Here's a wholesome idea for Reincarnation. You've already established that Reincarnated Mirabel never had a symbol of her own in real life, the butterfly thing was made up by Disney and was actually just the symbol for the family in general, so what if for her birthday or Christmas, any event where they'd give presents really, they give her a dress decorated with a unique symbol that represents her, perhaps a needle and thread or a book, something unique that highlights her natural gifts and what makes Mirabel Mirabel

None of the Madrigals wears their individualised symbols now, or at least not to the extent of their first lives. It would look weird in the modern era. (That’s not to say they won’t wear something that relates to them, but it would be more of a coincidence than something done intentionally). And it’s enough of a struggle getting Mirabel clothes, let alone something so specific.

And circling back to how weird it would be.

But I don’t want to leave you with nothing, so fuck it, let’s just talk about the girls fashion senses (in the modern era) and shopping.

First off, there’s the obvious change in fashion. They lived in a rural Colombian town stuck in the 1890s, the idea of an accidentally exposed knee would have been scandalous. Never mind some of the outfits seen daily today.

Isabela and Luisa need little convincing to embrace the modern style of dress. Partially because they are both a lot more confident in their own skin than Dolores and Mirabel, and are more than happy to show it off. They didn’t hesitated to ditch the long dresses, skirts and blouses. In fact, you’d probably have to pay them to dress like that again.

Isabela is quite punk rock/biker in her style, which can change. It’s Isa. Leather jacket, metal studs/spikes (because they replicate cacti spines), cool boots, etc. Think Rosa Diaz. She gets very into the idea of dyeing and painting over her purchases, because she likes to have a splatter of colour or several. Very modern and trendy in her style, she’s the most likely to be stopped and complimented in the street. She knows how to dress her body (came with the perfectionism) and is obnoxiously good at it - she usually gets invited by the others to help them with shopping.

Luisa, same with her last life, prioritises comfort. She is a lot more casual in her wardrobe - she can be chic but still comfortable, okay? Ironically, think Jessica Darrow. I’m telling you right now, if she and Jess were the same size, she’d have stolen her entire wardrobe years ago. At the same time, she’s probably the one you could convince to wear some of the most ridiculous pieces of clothing. She’s the theatre kid of the four, always happy to dress up and entertain.

Dolores was a lot more hesitant, but has slowly come around to modern clothing. Very romantic in her style - though she still wears a lot of skirts and dress, never as long as Mirabel - but also on a similar casual line as Luisa. Outfits should be practical, then again that is a sentiment they all share. She’s also more vintage than the previous two but not quite Mirabel’s level of historical (accuracy), she’ll happily mix and match things from several periods and have to deal with Mira complaining for the rest of the day.

Mirabel won’t wear something later than 1950s. Most of her wardrobe is vintage pieces or things made to look vintage. Heels, blouse, full skirt, scarf, etc. Think Sandy in Grease, but she never ditches her original for style a man and does embroidery. Honestly, if she had it her way, she would be dressed in full medieval garb with a veil and headdress, but she knows that she’d get a lot of weird looks for that, so this is the most modern you’re getting. As the years go on, however, she does change her style slightly with her increased comfort and better mental health, embracing a more relaxed feel.

In addition, these girls lived in a time where everything was still tailor made to fit for each person, subsequently getting a new piece of clothing was a bigger deal than it is now. So, the idea of sizes and everything being pre-made, and then also online shopping, was probably a shock to the system.

Isabela greatly enjoys going out shopping. She has zero patience and likes that she can just try on/buy as much as she pleases. Dolores also likes it, more for the independence it gives them. Whereas before the tailor would essentially be the one dressing and styling you, now you are pretty much doing it yourself.

Luisa and Mirabel don’t but that’s because of the bad experiences they have with sizing. Some shops are really good with having things in shop that fit Luisa’s height and muscles in women’s clothes, some are pretty shit with it. Inclusive sizes are only just becoming something of importance to most brands.

Mirabel’s issue is actually with the sizing system, which she has written many an essay on to complain. She is too small for women’s clothing, so she is pretty much stuck in the kids section. However, girls clothes obviously don’t account for fully grown breasts. She can get bottoms, skirts and shoes perfectly fine, but anything else? She’s screwed.

Shopping for swimsuits/bikinis is a nightmare for the pair. Which is a shame because Luisa loves beach/swimwear and gets really excited for it, only to be repeatedly disappointed. Mirabel always feels really uncomfortable at showing more skin and after not finding something that fits, ends up very upset with herself.

So yeah, it’s fun.

#encanto #encanto reincarnation au #ask me anything

[jams-sims]

Im sorry the fight between Kipper and Riz is killing me. Im catching up with newest video. An the fact she really charged Riz and he fucking whipped around and dug into her.

I think its finally clicking whats going on this year for the Bad kids. Fig ends up going off about how Reuben wasted her season, how his music is shit and it will always be shit because you're a bad person.

Riz screams at Kipper saying "Your a freak! You grinded instead of getting good at the game! Thats why you suck at pvp!"

Heres the thing- the Rat Grinder are what the Bad kids could have been. While yes their situation is diffcult and complex. The reason why the Bad kids are so mad is because they worked their asses off to get where they are.

Now in real world grinding, you fight the rats yourself. You are atleast getting expierence even if it just baby enemines YOU are the one doing the fighting. But they didn't even do that. They brought the monster to a "machine" which just pumped out EXP. They didnt even kill the rats or low level monster themsleves.

Yes the Bad kids are fucked up too. But they at least trying and the Rat grinders are kids- that while some adult should jump in and tell them. "Hey you were taken advantage of-" a bunch of teens who had been struggling mental wise should not be the ones to do it. So the Bad kids being cut throat with the Ratgrinders makes sense.

#d20 #fhjy #fantasy high junior year

[katuschka]

Olalla – Chapter Three

Josh Kiszka x female OC

8025 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Even though this chapter is still smut-free, the rest of the story won't be.

Warnings: angst, yearning, kissing, fluff, conflict and violent behaviour, alcohol consumption, slowburn, mental breakdown, LGBT themes, homophobia (World's not perfect and some people suck...not the main characters though, don't worry).

Taglist

Previous Chapter Olalla masterlist

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love With you

Every once in a while, you experience something nice that somehow leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. Just like when you’re watching a beautiful sunset, thinking about how trifling and unimportant our daily feuds and worries are in comparison to the macrocosm and its wonders. The moment feels so precious. …but the world keeps spinning and as soon as you turn around, you once again find yourself submerged in the stale waters of your petty life.

Not that she felt that her life was in any way stale. It was just that as soon as she closed the door behind him, the whole encounter seemed like a fever dream in retrospect. One she wished would continue, because during those few hours, everything felt so new, so out of ordinary, including the fact that it did not continue. 

So, she tried to rationalize it and eventually concluded that she didn’t want more. This felt right…albeit weird, because it was simply different. He was different, and therefore dangerous. 

Much more casual encounters often ended in fucking. It was her reality. The guys she willingly chose to spend time with were either not interested at all in the end, or didn’t want to let go. At least not until they got a taste of all of her. Either way, it ended up in relief. Rinse and repeat. Joshua’s touch remained imprinted on her skin like some sort of sensory tattoo, and it left her mind racing. The effect he had on her was pretty much unwelcome, the feelings that came with it were not particularly pleasant, but she involuntarily clung to them anyway. 

His goodnight was definitive, and even though it didn’t feel like a rejection, it stayed outside her threshhold, just as he did. The night that followed was not good at all. The subconscious mind is a bitch. She spent it tossing and turning and waking up in between shallow dreams filled with images of his face just within reach, yet she couldn't bring herself to touch it. Before the actual dawn, she dreamed about them sitting on top of a mountain, watching the Sun rise. He was singing again. 

Reality hit back when Agnieszka’s alarm clock rang at 4:30. Having fallen asleep long past midnight, and then again around two and three – because she couldn’t get the feeling of his lips on her cheek out of her head – she woke up with stinging eyes and a burning headache, with a long day ahead of her. She slowly dragged herself from the cozy bed to start preparing breakfast and snack-to-go packages for early hikers. 

She usually enjoyed this. Morning chats over coffee were generally warmer and gave her the opportunity to talk to the guests about more than just how their day went and to connect with others on a more personal level, while sitting at the same table with them. They were a nuisance today. It wasn’t their fault. Just a group of young women in their early 20s and a nice couple getting ready for their last hike before going back home the next day. Definitely not an unpleasant company. Without admitting it to herself, or even consciously thinking about it, she just wished he’d be one of them. 

He was probably still fast asleep when she left to do some early shopping before her daily chores. He was already gone when she came back. Visitors kept their keys, but they were asked to leave special hangers on their door handles when leaving, which proved useful in case they wanted to have their bathrooms cleaned or sheets changed. So, of course she checked his door. And then scolded herself for her unhealthy curiosity. 

She almost forgot about him by midday, too immersed in cleaning vacated rooms and getting them ready for new arrivals. Fridays and Saturdays were the most hectic of the whole week, with people generally coming or leaving at weekends. Finally, after three pm, she could get some rest and enjoy her afternoon coffee (with just a drop of Bayleys) behind the reception desk, reading the book she abandoned the previous evening, with just a few interruptions that day. 

At half past four, the bell above the main door chimed again and there he was, entering quietly, but turning to a full theatrical mode the moment he saw her. This guy must be fun at parties, no doubt about that. He spread out his arms and trotted like a musical actor right towards her in his brand new attire. “How do I look?” he asked while wiggling his eyebrows. 

At first she thought her heart would jump out of her chest when she saw him for the first time since the previous night, but his easygoing, comical behaviour immediately made her relax. “Like a walking Columbia advertisement,” she laughed. 

“Yeah, well, I normally prefer flannels, but the guy at the store said this is more appropriate. I hate polyester…unless it’s sparkly…but I’m willing to try this,” he shrugged – tugging at the fabric demonstratively – and leaned familiarly on the counter. “How was your day?”

“Busy and boring at the same time. I should be the one asking that question. Have you seen or done anything interesting today? I mean, apart from becoming one of us,” she finished the sentence with a quasi-sultry whisper and dared to lean in closer to him. The truth was that the dark tight-fitting crewneck accentuated his lean and firm figure in a way that made her feel a bit uneasy. That man wasn’t just “quite attractive”, he was sexy! Humour and banter was her usual way of dealing with unwelcome butterflies in her stomach. And it worked, because they both giggled before he answered. 

“Nothing much, just wandering around. I didn’t dare venture far before breaking in these,” he demonstratively lifted one leg to show her his right trekking boot. “Besides, I don’t know it here. I tried to follow some folks, but the path turned to a steep and stony one pretty soon and my feet hurt like hell after just a couple miles and…” 

“Wait a minute,” she started rummaging under the counter. “I forgot to give you these. Here are some maps and leaflets with touristic tracks. Stick to those if you don't want to be chased by a bear. Also, it’s a national park, so you just have to anyway. Also, tomorrow’s going to rain all day, so you might want to visit the Tatra Museum.”

“Oh, bummer. The whole day?” The meaning of everything he said was amplified tenfold by his wild gesticulations and body language. It was like watching a silent actor, except he wasn’t silent at all. “Thank you so much for these? Any recs for a good place to eat? I tried the one right at the end of the street yesterday. It was good, but I’d like to try something more local.”

She reached behind her for some more leaflets and handed him a couple. “There are a few nearby. We serve dinner to our guests as well, but you need to preorder it at least a day in advance…but that’s usually just a plain, home-cooked meal, nothing fancy.”

“But that sounds fantastic! I’m pre-ordering dinner for tomorrow then,” he beamed, and added hopefully: “Care to join me today?” “I can’t, I need to go help with the dinner in about an hour and then I have some more things to do in the evening.” His face fell with a silent oh and for a brief moment she actually did hate her job. Was he asking her on a date? It certainly felt that way. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone. It didn’t really matter. He wanted her to say yes and she didn’t want to say no, and even if it meant just two people eating together, it would be just fine. He lingered awkwardly for a short while before he wished her a pleasant evening, hoping to see her again soon. She didn’t want to let him go just yet, not just like that… “Joshua, wait!”

“yes…?” he turned back to her with his arms flailing around like a marionette. 

“My dad throws a garden party for our guests every Sunday evening...if the weather allows, that is. His grilled pork chops are delicious,” she tried to sound as casual as possible to hide the fact that she really wanted him to join them. “I…ummm…am supposed to invite everyone,” she added. 

“That sounds great, but…I don’t really eat pork…or meat in general.” He looked almost sorry that he didn’t. 

“Oh! Well, there’s always mom’s redcurrant pie, and some grilled vegetables, too…” Pathetic. 

“Lovely! I'll be there.” And with a beaming smile, he disappeared upstairs. 

The next day started as blue-ish gray when she woke up and soon turned to just gray. Breakfast didn’t need to be served before seven, as half of the people were leaving that day and the other half simply weren’t in a rush. Some even cancelled, preferring to go have fancier pancakes with ice-cream and forest fruit in some café nearby. Heavy rain was drumming on the roof and terraces, and the clouds were hanging low, turning the surrounding hills into a haunting, misty landscape.   

It was a lazy, sleepy day. A perfect day for a massage, or to go to the sauna…if you were staying in one of the fancier lodgings. The residents of Willa Eulalia were mostly bored, with just TV or board games to pass time. 

Nothing really changed much for Agnieszka. If anything, Saturday proved to be even more hectic, because mother wasn’t feeling well. So, the usual routine consisting of vacuuming, changing the sheets and cleaning the toilets turned to be even more tiresome, as she had to do it all by herself. 

The house went almost completely silent after lunch. It was already almost two pm when she finally reached the attic to make the room opposite to Joshua’s ready for a new visitor. She didn’t have much time left; new guests would start coming shortly. 

It looked like he was still in his room, possibly having a nap. The rain only intensified after lunch and it was fairly easy to get drowsy here, right under the roof. She turned on the vacuum cleaner on the lowest setting and proceeded to do what she was supposed to, while fighting off obsessive thoughts about getting drowsy with him… 

She was almost done when she heard some disturbance coming from the other room. It sounded like him arguing with someone. Honouring the house’s number one rule “privacy first”, she collected all her things and aimed to leave the attic as quickly as possible. Not quickly enough, though, because his sudden loud “I don’t fucking care,” followed by something hitting the wall, stopped her in her tracks. It was followed by even more incoherent yelling. “Something was not his fault and some Sam should do something instead, and someone was advised to suck his dick (Figuratively speaking – she hoped, half amused.), otherwise she couldn’t make sense of the one-sided argument. The call ended and she was finally about to descend the stairs, when he suddenly opened the door, making her jump. She shot him a terrified look and his own expression wasn’t much different. “Sorry for the noise,” he finally mumbled. “...I…need some fresh air.” With that, he ran past her down the stairs. 

The whole encounter troubled her, but she didn’t have much time to ponder over it, as she already had to hurry back to the reception to resume her afternoon duties, noticing him on the veranda on her way there. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about it though. The lobby was connected with the back veranda by a wide, transverse corridor, so when she leaned forward a bit, she could easily see him from her place behind the counter. He was still standing there, leaning against the balustrade with his arms outstretched and his head bent down. It triggered her inner caretaker. She couldn’t just leave him there like that, so she poured some fresh water in the electric kettle behind the counter and rummaged through her little box of teabags. 

“Hey, I made you some tea,” she approached him with the steaming mug and placed it carefully on the balustrade next to him. He looked at it and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Sheldon.”

She laughed at the reference but he didn’t reciprocate, so she continued warily: “The ghost called again? “No, that was my twin brother this time.”

“You sounded a bit agitated. I thought…”

“Olalla, I really, really don’t want to be rude, but when I said I needed fresh air, I really meant I needed to be alone.” 

She was taken aback by that and her eyes widened at him. “I’m sorry, I…”

“Thanks for the tea,” he sighed and left, leaving her alone with her thoughts again. Slightly shaken this time. 

He disappeared for the rest of the day. 

He didn’t come to dinner that evening either. 

She stayed on the veranda for a few more minutes after he left, drinking the tea she made for him and watching fat raindrops splashing on the stony path leading to the fireside. She was mad at herself for letting him occupy her mind the way he did those past few days. For the first time in years, she allowed someone to get under her skin, and for what. Now it stung, and it would eventually get worse if she continued with this nonsense. Rinse and repeat. So, she just shrugged it off with an annoyed huff and put her walls back up, just like she always did. The path from hurt to pissed off to indifferent was a short and safe one. 

And then, just like a gift from above, the bell at the front door chimed and she hurried back to greet three young and carefree handsome men who were waiting for her at the reception desk. 

She knew them. They were their frequent guests, one of them being also her regular hook-up. She had been looking forward to seeing him and his radiant smile again, but then nearly forgot they were coming. It was a welcome distraction now, the only downside being her sister Maya who was also arriving the next day to spend a week…and Maya hated him. 

Agnieszka knew very well why. Maya hated fuckboys and Bartek was the epitome of that. Pretty and vain and often notoriously bad-tempered when challenged, which meant he hated her sister back with passion. However, that never stopped Agnieszka from welcoming him with open arms, because he always gave her what she wanted and he never wanted more. He was one of her wolves. So screw tomorrow, she needed some comfort now. As soon as she finished her daily tasks and he freshened up and got comfortable in his rented room after the long ride from Poznan, he joined her in her quarters for one of their regular “movie nights”. They hardly ever finished watching any.

She found no comfort in his touch that night, though. After snuggling closer to him on the couch, she felt nothing. His thieving hands and intrusive tongue started to annoy her after a while. The excuse of being maybe a bit too tired was a lame one. It was not a complete lie and he knew she worked hard, but he seemed annoyed all the same. After she literally invited him to join her, she couldn’t really blame him, so she just slid on her knees on the floor and gave him head instead. 

There was something strangely calming about giving head and gagging on a cock. Those brief moments of not being in control made her feel like she could control everything else.. When it was finally over and she rested her head in his once again clothed lap, feeling his fingers scratching her scalp affectionately (but not too much), she felt calm at last. They were both half asleep when they heard a knock. Agnieszka slowly scrambled up on her feet, excused herself and opened the door to find Joshua standing there. 

“Hey,” he bounced on the balls of his heels with a tentative smile and his eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like I should apologize for being such an ass earlier. And…I’m making some mint tea and I thought, maybe you’d like some, too? Just to reciprocate your kindness, you know?” he nodded towards the common kitchen in the hall. 

Agnieszka bit her lip to stop her from smiling back. Not that he didn’t deserve it, she just didn’t feel worthy of giving it. She had her own kitchen unit in her apartment, so this was just a nice, albeit awkward gesture and they both knew it. He just didn’t want to approach her completely empty handed. 

“It’s ok.”

“No, it’s not, and I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine, Joshua. I’m basically just a maid and I had no right to bother you when you were clearly upset by…whatever’s going on in your life. It’s not like we’re friends.”

He sighed and nodded solemnly. “I really hoped that we would be. I…anyway, I went to this store today. They sell crystals and stuff, and this kinda reminded me of your eyes. Please, keep it.” He took her hand, palm up, and placed a small malachite pendant in it. “Good night to you, Olalla…” He bowed his head down and was about to leave when a loud “kto to jest” made it snap back up to see a man suddenly standing in the doorway right next to her, his hand squeezing her shoulder almost possessively. Bartek looked first at Josh, then at the piece of stone in her hand and his eyebrows shot up. He was athletic and broad shouldered and, being taller by at least 5 inches, he towered over Joshua menacingly.

He was also shirtless, with the waistband sitting dangerously low on his hips. That, together with Olalla’s sheer bathrobe, told him everything he needed to know. 

“Oh, I see I’m interrupting…again, my apologies Olalla.”  Bartek didn’t even wait for him to leave; he slammed the door shut right in his face. The bang made Agnieszka jump. 

“Who the fuck was that, Olalla!?”  

“No one. Just a guest.” He had no right to do that, and she should have been angry, but his sudden shift in mood made her defensively meek. 

“Guests don’t come knocking on your door this late to give you trinkets unless they want much more than just room service. I thought one at a time was your rule,” he raised his voice and slammed his fist against the door. “Guests don’t call you Olalla!”

“Bart! Stop overreacting! He just…”

“Is that why you’re so frigid today? Bitch…” 

He grabbed the rest of his discarded clothes from the couch and before Agnieszka could even react, threw the door open again and stormed out. She started after him, only to watch him pass bewildered Joshua, who really was making tea in the common hallway kitchen. Bartek stopped in his tracks and hissed in broken English, gesturing back at her: “Already you can go back, Frodo. The dirty whore is your now.” 

With that, he disappeared down the stairs and left them standing there in silence. He with a jug kettle in his hand, frozen in motion; she clutching the door frame for dear life. From the look on his face, she could tell that he had overheard them arguing too, though he thankfully couldn’t understand a single word of it, though he must have gotten the general idea. They watched each other with wide eyes for a few long seconds, until hers welled with tears.

He could see hurt and shame and panic in them. “Olalla,” he whispered and slowly made his way towards her, but she quickly closed the door shut, crouched down and, overwhelmed with all the emotions from the past few days, started crying in earnest. She tried to suppress her sobs so that he wouldn’t hear her as soon as she heard soft knocks again. This time, she didn’t open. The whole house fell quiet again after a while. She slowly got back on her feet and unclenched her fists. 

A warm piece of polished malachite was burning a hole in her palm. 

The clouds finally dissipated during the night and the inhabitants of Willa Eulalia were once again greeted by a clear, pinkish sky on the eastern horizon, the Sun painting the whole mountain range orange. Most of the people left early, so after 7 am, only families with young kids were still in their rooms or on their balconies, enjoying the breakfast as well as the fragrant air after yesterday’s rain, already warmed by the sun. 

Agnieszka had lulled herself to sleep the previous night with a little help of a significant amount of vodka and not even the fresh breeze was of much help in easing the consequent nausea. 

She suffered through the morning, thanking god that both Bartek and Joshua were gone, hopefully for the whole day. It was just a postponement of her torture, but it was welcome all the same. 

Her younger sister Maya arrived shortly after lunch, and – seeing both her mother and her sister looked like they might fall asleep on the spot – she quickly took over their duties. Agnieszka excused herself and climbed in her bed, wishing to disappear. Maya tried to get her back on her feet a few times during the afternoon, but failed miserably. It was already past 8 pm when she arrived again. Agnieszka could hear that the garden party had already started outside her window, and she just wished Maya would understand that she didn’t want to join them. Apparently not…

“There’s a gentleman asking if you would join us.” 

“Tell Bart he can fuck off.”

“Pfff,” Maya scoffed. “I already did. That fucker and his idiot buddies went out anyway, probably to the World’s End. And by ‘gentleman’ I mean a real gentleman. Though he’s a bit of a weirdo.” 

Agnieszka suddenly had a huge lump in her throat, but didn’t say anything, so Maya continued: “He also told me what happened.” 

“He did what?”

“I was at the reception about an hour ago when the German lady from room 9 made a complaint about a noise yesterday evening,” Maya started to explain while she was rummaging in her sister’s wardrobe. She was obviously determined to drag Agnieszka out of her room and into the garden by sheer force, if necessary. “I obviously didn’t know what she was talking about, because my sister doesn’t tell me anything anymore. Duh! That’s when he walked in, overheard us, said it was his fault and apologized to her. Then he explained to me what really happened,” she finished and threw black yoga pants and a fluffy powder-pink pullover on Agnieszka’s bed. 

“It wasn’t his fault,” Agnieszka mumbled into the pillow.

“Now you’re finally talking! Yeah, no shit. I figured. The poor guy obviously got dragged into your mess. And yet he still wants to see you. Seriously, who is he? And why is your face suddenly red like a baboon's ass? Is there a legitimate reason why Bart behaved like a total jerk this time?” she wiggled her eyebrows at Agnieszka theatrically. 

Agnieszka gave her an annoyed look. “I don’t even know who he is. And we just talked a few times. And…yeah, just talking. We spent an evening talking and then he kissed my cheek goodnight and that’s it.” She rummaged in her pocket and showed Maya the green pendant. “He also gave me this yesterday. Said it reminded him of my eyes. That was before Bart’s temper tantrum. I can’t go there, Maya. It’s better if I stay away from him, for the sake of his own wellbeing.”

“Wow. Interesting! So you’re saying the two of you are treating each other like real human beings? Didn’t know you had it in you. He’s sweet though, no surprise there. I think he likes you. His smile reminds me of…”

“Don’t!”

Maya knew she overstepped. But she wouldn’t budge. Instead, she sat on the bed and started stroking Agnieszka’s hair.

“Olalla, baby, stop shying away from people. Just go. Spend another evening talking. In spite of what you think, it will do you good. Besides, you invited him, and he’s there. It’d be rude not to show up.”

She could spot him immediately when she set foot in the garden. He was sitting on a piece of log by the fireplace, facing her. He was deep in conversation with some other guests, but as soon as he saw her, he gave her a radiant smile. His face was enchanting in the firelight, sparks dancing around it like fireflies. On her way to him, she stopped just briefly by the long table to grab a glass of wine. 

“Hey…” She still felt uncertain and a little ashamed when she reached him. “I…didn’t have an opportunity to thank you for this,” she continued, while toying with the pendant and looking down at him bashfully.

“Good evening, Olalla,” he beamed and gestured to an empty spot to his left. “Please sit.”

“You had the opportunity,” he added as soon as she sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Your reaction was more than understandable. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

“You must think low of me.” 

“I think highly of you! You’re a hard worker, you obviously love nature and those carrot cupcakes are delicious! Maya told me you baked them this morning even though you weren’t feeling well. So,” he cleared his throat and giggled. “Now we both apologized to each other, I’m gonna need your advice.” 

“What advice?” It was Maya, the nosy brat who just couldn’t miss an opportunity to stick that nose into anything that didn’t concern at all. 

He was taken aback for just a millisecond before he resumed his quick babbling again. The fact that he was now forced to turn his head from side to side gave him also the opportunity to start gesticulating wildly, which he clearly enjoyed. 

“So, I decided to go for a proper, all day hike today. But apart from the fact that I absolutely don’t know where to go – I was never good at reading maps – there were sooo many people everywhere! Which was a good thing, in a way, because I didn’t get lost. BUT…”

“Where did you go?” Maya interrupted him. The two of them were like two peas in a pod.   

“Kash…kashp…dammit! How do you guys do that? My tongue, ouch!”

Agnieszka finally laughed, for the first time that day. “Kasprowy Wierch?” 

He nodded eagerly. “Yea! That’s the one! Nice place, don’t get me wrong, but my god! It was crowded up there.”

“Of course, it’s Sunday, and you chose the only place with a cable car,” she explained, as both she and Maya laughed. 

“Well now I feel like a complete moron,” he responded to that in a cheerful tone and even wilder gesticulation. 

“So, what advice do you need, Joshua?” 

“Well, I was thinking…since you said that you work as a guide occasionally…that you would just go with me? I’d love to see some more secluded places and I can’t go alone – you said that yourself – and I wouldn’t even know where to go, so…please?” He grinned, batting his eyelashes at her. 

“But that’s mostly for families or older couples or…”

“But that’s a wonderful idea!” Maya interrupted her. “You should definitely go.” 

“I have work to do,” Agnieszka spat back. 

“Bullshit. I’m here until Wednesday, I can do that. And tomorrow’s going to be even more beautiful than today, according to the forecast.”

“Perfect! Olalla, pleeeeeease,” he turned to her. “Hey, you have nothing to drink,” he gestured to her already empty glass and took it from her. “Lemme refill it while you’ll decide to say yes.”

“Hey, who’s the guest here?”

He gave her an “oh, come on” look, took her glass and excused himself. 

“What are you doing?” Agnieszka hissed at Maya as soon as the coast was clear. 

“It’s been a long time since you looked so radiant. You’ve been miserable for way too long. Enjoy life for once. You like him! And he obviously likes you,” Maya said, nodding towards the long table. Agnieszka looked up too and they watched him shooting glances back at them.

“It’s irresponsible,” Agnieszka hissed back. “He’s leaving by the end of the month.”

“Yeah yeah, totally out of your character,” Maya responded sarcastically. “Since when does this bother you? And what exactly do you expect to happen? Just go have some fun. Two friends enjoying a hike.” 

She planned a beautiful hike. Secluded, just as he wished. Away from selfie hunters. The whole trek was on the Slovakian side of the mountains, but that wasn’t an issue. They would start right at the border and cross the whole mountain range from north to south, taking the bus back to the starting place. It was a physically demanding, long trek, with almost no shelters along the road and no escape routes. That’s why not many people ventured there, even though the first half was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful places here. Joshua was beyond excited. 

They agreed to meet by her car at half past six the next morning. She would take care of all the necessities. All Joshua had to do was to show up on time with a backpack and some spare clothes. He failed miserably. 

At quarter to seven, she finally decided to knock on his door. “Joshua, come on! We need to leave NOW if you don’t want me to change the plan.” A moment later she heard a loud “oh fuck!” and some scrambling noise. “COMING!”

“Coming,” he breathed out when he finally opened the door, shirtless again, still in his sleeking sweatpants and with a literal nest on the top of his head. “I’m sooo sorry! Gimme ten minutes. Ten minutes max!”

“I’ll be waiting by my car,” she rolled her eyes and sighed. 

He finally showed up after another 25 minutes, overflowing with joy and…

“What’s that?” she pointed at his face. 

“Sunglasses,” he shrugged with a beaming smile. 

“You call this sunglasses?” 

“I’m a diva! Deal with it,” he responded affectedly and threw his backpack on the backseat. 

It was almost eight when they finally set off. The track was an easy one for the first ten kilometres, with just a slight ascent. It was – however – breathtaking from the very start, with the whole amphitheatre of jagged peaks opening up before them in the distance. Joshua was taking pictures the whole time. He was also talking the whole time, stopping only when the pathway became very steep all of the sudden. 

They surmounted a few levels and finally decided to take a break by a beautiful mountain lake. 

It was almost noon, but there were still barely any clouds in the sky and it was getting really hot, even at this altitude. Agnieszka wiped the sweat off her brow and splashed her bare arms with some cold water, while Joshua stripped from his shirt and jumped on a large stone sticking out of the water. He was now standing there with his arms outstretched and his head tilted back. She watched him in amusement, shielding her eyes with her hand. “If you want to go on like this, you’ll definitely need to apply more sunscreen.”

“What? Are you saying that pink wouldn’t suit me? I beg to differ, my lady!” He turned towards her in some sort of clumsy pirouette and nearly lost his balance, flailing his arms and leg around in an attempt to stay dry. “Watch it!” She laughed, but was also already rummaging in her backpack. “And no. I’m serious. Come here.” He jumped back and she handed him her bottle. 

“Hmmm, coconut ice cream,” he sniffed at the healthy amount of lotion he just poured on his palm and started rubbing it in the skin on his arms and chest. “I was delicious before, but now I’m going to be practically irresistible.” Agnieszka was just taking a sip out of her bottle and his cheekiness made her cough. 

“What, you don’t think so?” He wiggled his eyebrows on her. “I might need help with the back,” he added. 

“I’d rather not answer that question. Come sit,” she motioned to the flat stone in front of her. 

He turned his back on her and sat between her legs, throwing his messy braid over his shoulder. It was adorned with silver dreadlock beads today and she couldn’t help but smile at his unashamed quirkiness. “Why don’t you wanna answer that question?” he asked with a low voice when she started applying the sunscreen between his shoulder blades. 

She took a deep breath through her nose and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. This close, she could smell his own musky scent under the overpowering aroma of the sunscreen, and it made her dizzy. She watched tiny droplets of sweat running down his sides from under his armpits. Running her hands over his lower back, she involuntarily imagined the same thing in a completely different scenario. She really wanted this to be just two friends on a trip, just as Maya said, but his delicate, yet manly form and his direct, spontaneous personality made it almost impossibly hard. She just couldn’t get the feral thoughts out of her head, no matter how hard she tried. “You don’t need coconuts, Joshua,” she muttered under her breath.

He…giggled? This man was either completely unaware of his power or too comfortable with it. Either way, she just wanted to push him in that water. She was sure it would make a hiss. 

She squeezed more lotion in her palm and started rubbing his shoulders. “You’re a bit tense here.”

“Yeah, my lower neck’s been hurting lately. I haven’t had much exercise in a while,” he sighed. 

“Here?” She pressed both thumbs in his higher trapeze muscles and he let out an involuntary moan. They both chose to act as if he hadn’t. 

“So…you exercise? What exactly do you do?

“Yoga, mostly. Some light weights, too. I need to keep fit because of…work.”

“Work, huh? You told me quite a lot about your family, but I still don’t know what your job is.” He looked like one of those contemporary circus acrobatic dancers – she contemplated half-jokingly – but that probably wasn’t the case. He was too clumsy. 

It took him a while to respond. “A secret agent,” he finally let out. “And unfortunately, now I have to kill you.” That made her slap his shoulder in amusement. “Ok, ok, I work as a costume mannequin. It’s an extremely important job. They pay well, too.” 

Sighing exasperatedly, she pinched his side, making him squirm and squeak. He was keeping something from her, but she had learned not to pry. “Ok, done.” She wiped the rest of the lotion on her things and he shifted and sat next to her, still laughing, until she handed him a water bottle. “Now drink. I haven’t seen you drink much and I don’t want you to collapse on the road. You’re tiny, but I still couldn’t carry you all the way down.” Everytine she felt vulnerable, she resorted to this strategy of making clear that she was in charge of the situation, could take care of herself and should take care of others…or whatever. It was her way to weed out the toxic people. Some guys would be mortally offended by such a treatment. Joshua? He just saluted her with a “yes, ma’am” and obeyed. 

They sat in silence for a while, only an occasional hawk screech or an intelligible chatter of two girls sitting further up breaking the zen-like piece of the place. “Thank you,” she finally spoke, toying with the malachite pendant hanging around her neck. 

He looked at her with amusement. “You already did.”

“No, I mean for not treating me like…what were the words he used? Oh yeah, a dirty whore. Which I guess I am. But you’re not judging me. So, thank you.”  

He rested his face on his fist and looked at her. “Why should I be judging you? People need human touch. That’s completely normal.” 

“Some more than others, I suppose. I’m just pathetic.”

“I think you’re just lonely,” he said, toying with the water bottle absentmindedly. 

“I’m not,” she huffed.

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t respond, silently watching the ripples on the lake. The idea of being lonely was one she willingly chose not to entertain a long time ago. She had her people. She had sex. She had this. She was ok. 

His palm that gently cupped her face brought her from her reverie. His fingers slid down to the nape of her neck while his thumb continued to caress her cheek. She instinctively leaned into the touch with her eyes closed and when she opened them again, she saw him watching her intently. 

Her heart started beating wildly. “What are you doing,” she whispered. He just shook his head and bit his lip before he moved even closer and closed the gap between them. She could feel his plump lips on hers and her whole body twitched in shock, making him break the contact. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping, but she grabbed his face in her own shaking hands and pressed her parted lips to his again in silent plea. The tip of his tongue brushed against her upper lip, inviting her own to touch him. Their mouths finally fully connected in a soft, deep and sensual kiss that made them both feel completely light-headed. None of them wanted this to end and they continued for at least a minute, swallowing each other’s shaky exhales. At last he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “What is this? she whispered again. 

“I don’t know… and I don’t care, to be honest,” he mumbled, finally opening his eyes as they broke the contact entirely. She didn’t know where to look, didn’t even know how to process her own thoughts, so she just checked her Garmin matter-of-factly, only to see how late it already was. “We should get moving.” 

“I don’t think I can,” he giggled in embarrassment. “Just…give me a minute.” She nodded weakly in acknowledgement and got up to re-pack their things. 

They resumed their way up the steep and stony path in complete silence save for their laboured breath until they reached another levelled post-glacial terrace with yet another alpine lake right under the narrow saddle that divided the northern set of valleys from the southern mountain range. They were now approximately in the middle of their journey and the route was getting slightly more exposed. At one point, they had to traverse a narrow ledge above the lake. It was the first passage with safety chains they had to cross that day, and by far the easiest one, as she assured him, which only made him nervous. 

They took a short break before ascending to refresh themselves when they reached the crossing and had two ways to choose from, both leading to their final destination. The one to the left was fit for more seasoned adventurers, and – based on the people coming and going – that included also kids in their early teens or older women, so it could be done. She knew it could, she had gone there a few times before. But, seeing him watch the narrow and jagged depression between two peaks in the distance warily, Agnieszka finally decided on the path leading right up to the more easily accessible saddle. It proved to be a wise choice just a short while after. Watching him struggle while descending on the other side, clawing the chains with terror in his eyes, was fun. Him falling or panicking in the middle of the ascent wouldn’t be. 

He even misstepped eventually when they were descending down a set of cramps onto another ledge. His foot slid down the last iron bar clumsily and his bare back collided with her chest, nearly knocking them both down. 

She caught him and steadied him and they laughed it off, but there was something strange about the whole situation. She felt an underlying tension between them after she released him and they genuinelly looked each other in the eye for the first time since the kiss. He brushed the back of his hand against her arm, trying to communicate something, until the people behind them gestured to them to move. 

He led the way this time, jumping from stone to stone, high on endorphins, as if his knees were made of rubber. A wild chamois. Her own shins started to burn, the exhaustion of the past few days already taking its toll. He was unstoppable though, basking in the afternoon sun and once again taking pictures of everything around him, including her on a few occasions. Some things were still left unsaid and the more tired she felt with each passing hour, the more it troubled her. The events of the day made her simply wonder, but one specific feeling that started to rear its ugly head scared her.

It was half past six when they finally reached Stary Smokovec, both completely exhausted and thirsty, but happy they made it in time. The last bus to Lysa Polana was leaving at 7:05. They had just enough time to use the restroom at the electric train station and to buy some bottled water to relieve the headache. 

Reaching the bus station, they found the girls they had previously met by the lake already waiting there. They took the other route at the crossing and were now also headed back to Lysa Polana. They were a nice and friendly couple, so when the bus arrived, Agnieszka and Joshue took the seat right behind them. 

The sun was already low in the sky, covering the world outside in a warm hue and a fresh, lukewarm breeze was flowing through the open roof window. The sound of the moving machine made them drowsy and they watched the changing scenery in silence. It was suddenly so peaceful. One of the girls in front of them rested her head lovingly on the other one’s shoulder and Agnieszka wished to do the same, but just couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. 

As if he read her mind, he took her hand and – just like the first night – started stroking her knuckles gently. She just smiled and looked in the distance. Whatever it was, she was now determined to enjoy every single minute of it. More people boarded the bus in Tatranska Lomnica and soon they were on their way again. The girls in front of them started kissing and Joshua watched them stealthily with the most heartwarming expression on his face she had seen so far. Suddenly, they heard the driver saying something with his voice raised and angry, while looking at them through the rear-view mirror. 

The girls tensed and started whispering something to each other in Polish. Joshua looked confused. Agnieszka didn’t understand the driver at first but when he repeated those words she finally grasped the meaning behind them and gasped. He stopped the bus and opened the back door. Joshua turned his head to Agnieszka, looking positively alarmed now. “What is he saying?” She tried to translate it but her own words failed her. He got it, though. The guy wanted them out. 

One of the girls tried to negotiate with the driver, but that made him even more visibly angry. He stood and made his way towards them. The whole bus was whispering by then, all eyes on the girls. “Do kelu, vypadnite uz, lesby zasrate!” he roared and grabbed one of the girls by the elbow, trying to push her out of the bus with force, if necessary. An older lady in the back shouted something at him, but he ignored her and continued with his speech about not wanting such filth inside his bus. Joshua clenched his jaw, stood up abruptly and went after the driver, only to be thrown back into his seat aggressively. Agnieszka didn’t even know that she started screaming. The whole situation escalated pretty quickly and resulted in the four of them being left standing by the side of the road. 

The girls were the first to recover, one of them already tapping ferociously on the screen of her phone, while Agnieszka was still just standing there in disbelief and repeating “he can’t do this, he can’t do this” over and over again. Joshua sat on the grass, his elbows on his knees, clutching his head. He felt as if he was in a haze, watching her in slow motion having a heated conversation with the girls. He rubbed his temple and tried to calm down as she finally crouched down to him after a while. 

“Joshua, are you ok?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “Are you sure? You look…”

“I am ok, Olalla. I’m ok…” but his shoulders started shaking and he lost it, startling her. She sat down next to him and pulled him in her arms in a vain attempt to soothe him. “Hey! Shhh, big boy. They’re fine. One of them just called a taxi from Poprad. But…it’s a long ride and neither of us have enough cash, so…do you, perchance, have some spare Euros? I’ll pay you back once we get back to Eulalia.” 

That finally made him take a deep breath and calm down a bit. “Yeah…yes, I do. I’ll pay for the ride, don’t worry.”

“No, we’ll split the expense, I’ll just need…”

“Don’t argue, Olalla!” He was resolute. He also didn’t say a single word after that. 

No one spoke during the ride back to Lysa Polana, only the radio disturbing the complete silence. The girls crammed themselves in the back seat while Joshua took the place next to the driver. Agnieszka was watching him from the back seat. They were both deep in thought and – while she couldn’t read his mind – her own was racing. It all made perfect sense all of the sudden. Still with the aftertaste of his kiss on her lips, she felt a sudden wave of bittersweet tenderness for him. Oh, my sweet Joshua. My dear…friend. 

Back in her car, they still didn’t speak. They had wished the other two a safe journey back home and Joshua hugged them both, but other than that, he seemed distant, watching the passing trees outside the window absentmindedly. 

“Thank you for today, Olalla,” he finally spoke, not looking at her. “It was really nice.” 

“No need to be polite now, Joshua. Just tell me what’s troubling you…if you want to. If you don’t…then don’t...”

He opened his mouth, only to move his lips in vain like a mute fish, and started crying. She felt a sudden surge of panic. The incident itself, however unpleasant, couldn’t possibly shake him that much. Something else was going on, and she had a feeling it was related to the previous phone calls he had. It seemed impossible to return to Eulalia now. Her notoriously curious sister would be waiting behind the reception desk, no doubt. It was not her place to explain why they were both behaving as if they just returned from a funeral. She couldn’t muster enough strength to do that, anyway. And then there was Bart and his buddies, whom she just didn’t want to see now. AND she didn’t want them to see Joshua. Not like this. 

He didn’t even notice that she took a different turn, coming back to reality again only when they passed the town centre and were now heading towards a much smaller Gubalowka mountain range on the northern side of town. 

“Where are we going? he asked, looking confused. 

“I just thought you might appreciate a change of scenery…”

To be continued...

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@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @tripthelightfantastix @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr

#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #gvf fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #gvf fanfic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fluff #Spotify

[starfxkr]

in regards to your post about disgust between jj nd kitten & tp!jj nd tp!reader… oh moony youve bewitched me again!!!!! i love nd could go on about how far jj’s depravedness is nd how much it gives kitten the ick foreverr… (as im someone who isnt necessarily germaphobic, i just need to be clean nd hate gross people) yet theres still a raw nd unbridled attraction to his vulgarity, nd trust he’ll make you tap into whatever unsavory ideas youve kept secret due to embarrassment which i think is so appealing :3 sure, he definitely does give off “bad boy” vibes, but thats so surface level to his character nd its so much more than that (this is where that bully conversation comes in) hes just your mutt of a boyfriend nd its so hot!

as for tp!jj… you make him into such a hard pill to swallow (which he is!) i wouldnt call it the sense of impending doom, but you really have to know what youre getting yourself into with him (which is already known around the park). like you said, different lines are being crossed constantly nd unbeknownst to you (until a certain point) theres been so much damage done to you emotionally, mentally, nd most importantly your psyche! his hot & cold nd push & pull attitude nd the random switch to the paternal like instinct he has over you is whats really jarring! you tell yourself its all in the name of love when tbf, youre not sure if youre looking for a father who loves his daughter or a lover who loves their partner. but whatever to fill that void, shes such a mess </3 nd its all his fault

— 🦢

see see u get it. with jj and kitten they've seen such nasty, depraved, mean parts of each other and he truly sickens her. like even beyond him being gross physically she also finds his personality to be kinda horrid! he's petty, and selfish, and reckless, and greedy and he's so so so angry. but for the most part he keeps a lid on it, all the girls who've hooked up with him or also had a situationship with him just view him as this generic bad boy from deep in the cut but like. kitten knows better. so she pokes and prods at him like a festering wound because she hates the facade, she hates how he lies to himself and other people. this is a girl who sure she seems mysterious but she's not, she lays it all out but it makes people uncomfortable so they ignore it. she tells gross stories of being a compulsive masturbator as a child to make people uncomfortable and the only person who laughs is jj. truly deep down she's kind of his ID which says a lot because he's already pure ID. he's gross, he smears cum on your face, he's mean, and he's a literal anal fiend. jj can only be his true self around her because she won't lie to his face and tell him it's okay or tell him it doesn't bother her, she's upfront with how much he makes her sick and yet she loves him because of it, not in spite of.

tp!jj...i fear i can not solely give yall the sexy forbidden age gap that most people would expect because that's just not fun. there's nothing to chew on. because everyone knows jj's no good, but he normally relegates that to women his age or just a few years younger not a whole 21, not one he used to buy water guns for when she was a kid. he remembers when your mom got knocked up (because she was 15 when he was a whole 21 like. come on there's layers here), he knows your dad fucked off because he was also a 15 yr old, he's seen you wandering around the trailer park as young as 13 looking for someone to let you stay the night because your mom locked you out. it's as clear as day how neglected you are and how you're starving for any kind of love and affection, and the thing is jj feels no real qualms about the age gap. that he doesn't care about. but there's this internal battle of whether to be your father or your lover so he kinda says fuck it and does both. but he's never quite had a good example of what a father is so even then he's emotionally distant and does the bare minimum of a roof over your head and food in your belly, but all the older men you've been with never even gave you that. you think he's in love with you (he will be, just not yet). you're constantly crying and telling him you love him and you only get a "mhm" as a reply if you get one at all which leads you to constantly craving his affection. he thinks he's doing you a favor by remaining emotionally distant while feeding and fucking you and not caring that it's blurring too many lines. he doesnt care that you call him dad on accident, it doesn't rattle him the way it rattles you because as long as he gets to fuck you later what's the harm in playing at being your daddy for a bit?

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj #kitten!reader #🦢 anon