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macfrog · 6 months

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secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves)

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You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me

1K notes · View notes

lueurjun · 11 months

Text

shy soobin as your boyfriend

shy bf! soobin x reader — loving soobin hours rn majorly<3 in which soobin is completely and utterly enchanted and captivated by you, enamored with all that you are.

oh you lucky lucky gorgeous specimen

he is fr the perfect man but ur just as perfect so you know what? MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

the way you met is pretty standard

you worked at the barista he liked to visit frequently

he visited the coffee shop twice a day just to see you

and you had no idea that he thought u were a lil cutie patootie so you were a little concerned by his caffeine intake

he would stay and have like 3 cups each visit just so he could see you for as long as possible

most of the time he would be trying to work up the courage to say something other than his order but he couldn’t get the confidence

and despite you being concerned for his health, you lowkey HIGHKEY got excited everytime he came in because he was just so???

perfect

like you’re sure you heard wedding bells the first time you saw him

it’s okay babe so did the rest of us

we’re all a little delulu for soobin

anyways one day you’ve had enough

running off like two hours of sleep, the delirium kicks in and you have a massive burst of confidence

so you write your phone number on the cup for his final order which is to go

and soobin doesn’t notice until he gets home and taehyun spots the number on the side

“who in their right mind decided to give you their phone number? are they okay? why would they want you?”

soobin’s kinda like ??

because first of all RUDE of taehyun to attack him like that unprovoked

and second of all WHY IS THERE A PHONE NUMBER ON HIS CUP

from what he saw, you were the only one on shift making his drinks so??

it had to be from you

omg. the poor boy nearly goes into cardiac arrest

because wtf does he do now? he can’t just text you

what if it’s an accident?

there’s no way he can embarrass himself like that

so he decides to leave it despite the agonising ache to do anything but that

once he’s out of the room taehyun’s little shit mode is activated

soobin may not have the confidence to text you

but he sure does

‘hi. is this the girl from the coffee shop?”

honestly your heart shits itself

because you totally were not expecting him to text you back

‘yeah. sorry if this is weird and unprofessional. you can totally get me fired- i mean-i’d like prefer you to not but you totally can… i’m not a creep though… i promise’

you totally nailed that babes

definitely didn’t come across as a creep

already taehyun ships it and decides he has to play matchmaker because he already knows you’re perfect for soobin

so he sets the two of you up on a date

soobin damn near cries when he finds out an hour in advance

“a date? what? i don’t know how to do that”

poor boy is STRESSED

but much to his surprise, he doesn’t totally mess things up

the date actually goes smoothly and he leaves you with a kiss on the cheek after setting up a second date

you both squeal when you part ways

you’re both so cute pls get married

lemme be your maid of honour

ONTO THE RELATIONSHIP BC THIS IS ALREADY LONG IM VERY SORRY

boyfriend soobin is straight out of a book istg

he’s so awkward but in the best way??

like he’s not afraid to show you affection and tackle you with love

but the second you do something as simple as kiss his cheek

BLUSHING STUTTERING MESS

you have him wrapped around your pinky finger

honestly you could probably tell him to jump into a river and he most likely would without any questions

follows behind you like a lost puppy despite towering over everything

holding onto the tips of your fingers letting you drag him along

fancy dinners happen but the two of you are more order in and play mario kart

he’d probably let you win the first few times but the second you gloat about it

nah he’s playing like there’s 100k on the line

BACK HUGS BACK HUGS BACK HUGS

BACK MF HUGS

he loves snuggling into your neck and inhaling your scent. it calms him down for sure

you do this thing where you gently slide your hands up the back of his shirt

AND HE GIGGLES EVERYTIME

silently sharing his food and drink with you

he just holds the straw or food to your mouth without saying anything

whenever he buys you flowers, he takes one out and keeps it for himself so he knows when it’s time to replace them

you also love buying him flowers

he gently didn’t know what to do with himself the first time you did it

“these are for me? no way- you didn’t-babyyy”

can you hear my cries?

sliding down the wall rn

his instagram is pretty much a y/n fan page

like genuinely his feed is just you

visits you during work and spends half of the time flirting with you and the other half stuttering over his sentences because you threw a compliment at him

also your concerns for his health lessened once you realized he only drank that much caffeine just because he wanted to see you

if anyone tries to flirt with him, he’ll incorporate you into the conversation

the other person will just be stood there whilst he rants about all of the things he loves about you

it’s a reflex. he just loves you sm

taehyun can’t tell whether he’s happy for you both or genuinely disgusted

“the happiness i caused for you both makes me severely sickened.”

cue beomgyu popping up like “ALSO WRITING YOUR NUMBER ON HIS COFFEE ORDER? REALLY Y/N? THATS SO LAME”

they’re super happy for you both tho they just won’t admit it

you and soobin are in your own little love bubble

two hopelessly in love puppies who are destined to be together

absolutely adorable.

2K notes · View notes

crystlizabeth · 9 months

Text

Cowboy Casanova

Phillip Graves x Black!Shepherd!femreader

Warnings: age gap(reader is 23 Graves is 32), teasing, suggestive, cursing. Smut. Car sex bc graves and car sex itches my brain just right. Slight angst ig at the end. As always not proofread💆🏾‍♀️

Summary: going to the rodeo with your family, but your dad decides to bring some of his coworkers, little dose he know your dating the ‘Shadow’ as your dad calls him. It gonna be one hell of a night.

P.2

“Oh I forgot to tell you..” Your father spoke taking a drink from his beer. “I invited a friend, Graves.” He finished. Your eyes widen at the mention, your father had unintentionally invited your boyfriend. It wouldn’t be such a problem if one your relationship with graves was not something your father would be fond of and two he wasn’t almost 10 years older than you.

You shared a look with your older sister her already looking at you, she knew. She’s known but this she wanted to laugh at how scared you looked. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him, he still workin’ in the air?” Your brother asked.

You finished your beer off removing yourself from the conversation they started grabbing your sister by the hand taking her back into the beer garden with you. Finally getting away from your family you looked at your sister “Im gonna actually off myself, Nessa WHY IS THIS HAPPENING.” You groaned your hands running down your face.

She laughed no that bitch fucking howled “This is fuckin amazing. Holy shit.” She slapped her hand landing on your shoulder.

“Daddy invited, yo lil boyfriend!”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah but at least you’re finna get laid tonight.” She continued laughing.

You internally scream as you paid for your beer, the two of you returning to your family through the crowd of people. Upon returning there the cowboy stood conversatating with your parents. His eye found your after hearing your mother call your name “You remember Phillip right?” You mother asked.

You nodded “Mmhm I remember him.” Smiling at him as he returned a smile, god.. He looked good in a cowboy hat, his shirt tucked into his dark wrangler’s a silver buckle and his square toed boots.. mmm you would mind taking him here but unfortunately your parentals were present.

“Babygirl how bout you show Philip to the beer garden, we’ll meet y’all at our seats yeah?” Your father spoke handing you two tickets. You gave your father a look, “your sister can go with yall if you’re shy babygirl.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes “common cowboy.” You said turning around. Phillip gladly following behind you after being for sure out of sight Graves came up behind you his and resting his hand on your hip his thumb going through your belt loop.

“Whats wrong doll.” He teased placing a soft kiss on your neck.

“Umm just that my Father invited my boyfriend who is seriously of limits to me in his perspective.” You spoke you hand holding his wrist.

“Scared we’ll get caught pretty girl. Common, ‘otta have s’more faith in me.” He said making you both stop facing eachother his calloused hands resting above your low rises on the bare skin, his face leaning in close a greedy smirk displayed on his face.

“Maybe because my father with actually kill you and burn your body in a foreign country.” You smiled letting your hands run down his chest slowly nails dragging slightly.

“Mmm probably but lets not worry ‘bout that right now sweet girl.” He said kissing you lips softly, your hand pushed on his chest.

“We get caught its on yo ass Graves.” You spoke pushing your lips together pressing color back into your lipstick, your hand wiping the darker neutral color of his lips. He gave you a smug grin slapping your ass lightly before continuing to the bar. Fuckin tease.

You placed your self next to him leaning against the bar your arms resting against under your boobs lifting them very nicely giving Phillip and the bar tender and nice view, your cropped gray tank top sat low showing off the top your pretty light blue bra the lace sitting all pretty. Your washed out miss me’s sitting low enough on your back to show your dimple piercings, mmm and did Lip enjoy the view, was he jealous that the other boys where looking at you oh of fucking corse but at the end of the day you were his all his so let ‘em little boys look. He continued you admire you as you both worked on your drinks you wore a straw cowboy hat with a little charm on the front and your belt the buckle bring your fit together yeah you looked so damn good…

“Finish that, we gotta go out to my truck.” He spoke, taking one last swig of his bud light.

“Why?” You asked eventually finishing your beer anyway 3rd one down.

He gave you a look motioning his head to the exit.

Oh…

Oh!

“Lets go!” You grinned pulling him by his hand through the crowd. Luckily it was starting to get dark and Phillips tint would do the trick, pulling out your phone you sent a text to your sister.

‘Hey cover for me be back in like 20-30 minutes love ya!💋’

Nessa💆🏾‍♀️

‘Ight j dont be to long dont want daddy getting suspicious.’

With that you put your phone back in your bag as you two walked to his truck, it being parked somewhere in a dead end street. Opening the back door to his GMC you quickly got it him following you after, he started his truck so the ac could start cooling the inside from the Louisiana sun.

“Lets make this fast don’t want your daddy to worry bout his little girl.” He teased taking your hat of replacing it with his, his hands starting to work on his jeans as you worked on yours you fully discarding your pants.

Your lips met his, both of your lips moving in sync. Phillips hands made there way to you ass grabbing a hand full of flesh as he rocked your hips onto him. “Matching set.?” Lip spoke in between kisses.

You smiled agains his lips “I thought it was cute..” you stated knowing damn well this was one of the sets he had bought you it being a favorite. You felt his hand go to move your panties to the side and he freed himself from his briefs.

You lifted yourself up letting him line himself up to you. Your hands griping his shoulders as you sunk down on to him letting out a soft moan, the movement of your hips causing his head to fall back against the window.

“God you feel so good sweetheart, made just for me huh?” He groaned, a small whimper escaping his mouth when you fasted your pace.

His hands moving your hips as well, your body falling closely to him placing soft kisses on his neck your lipstick leaving stains as well as soft red marks from sucking on him. The truck moving slightly at the fast movement, Phillip fucking himself into you. His arms hugged your waist as he kept his pace up as you fucked him back your cunt dripping of arousal the mix of fluids making a white ring around the base of his cock.

“Fuck Lip..” you moaned, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Common sweetheart hold on a lil bit longer for me I’m s’ close.” He slurred, feeling your walls tighten around him.

“Please.. please let me cum.” You begged her face muffled into his shoulder.

“Nah common baby let me hear you.” He spoke his hands gathering your hair pulling your head back.

“Fuck please let me cum, please daddy let me cum.” You begged, the knot in your stomach becoming unbearable.

He let out an amused chuckle his pace not slowing down. “Yeah you wanna cum?” He asked his tone faking sympathy. “ ‘mon pretty girl use that filthy mouth of yours.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure causing your head to go fuzzy your mouth hanging open slightly as moans continue to slip from your lips. “Look at you all cock drunk.” He degraded.

“Please I- I cant hold it anymore… fuck daddy please.” You pleaded, your nail’s digging into his shoulders.

He wore an amused smirk enjoying your begging, they way you pleaded drove him crazy. Your walls pulsing he knew you couldn’t keep it together for much longer and that if he kept you her to long suspension would come upon your father.

He groaned his balls starting to tighten “mm cum for me sweetheart, fuckin cum f’ me.” He grip releasing your braids wrapping his arms hugging your waist once again his face buried in your breast as he came undone.

Phillip whimpering as he filled you up stuffing you full. After catching both of yours breath you began to redress yourself, Graves grabbing a napkin from his glove box cleaning up his mess that was currently dripping down your thighs into his leather seat, Also wiping the spot on his covers thigh.

“Made a mess did we.” You laughed noticing the stain on his leg.

“You made a mess.” He corrected.

“Could have been worse.” You winked, he knew what you meant and he nodded.

You both exited the vehicle a group of four walking by they looked away from the two of you minding there business. Cute.

Helping you out he took his hat back giving your back to you, placing the hat on your head he gave you a deep kiss. “Your lipstick is smudged doll.” He smirked.

Fuck, you let your hands whipe around your mouth. Phillip watching you he couldn’t help but smile, little did he know he had a few hickeys light but they were there. You both continued on to the gate getting a drink then heading in to the rodeo, your mother of course had to ask questions.

“Where has y’all be, it been like 30 minutes?” She questioned your father looking up taking a sip of his drink.

“I had to use the bathroom and feed him so fried Oreos because he’s never had ‘em.” You spoke innocently the lie rolling off your tongue so easily.

She shook her head letting y’all sit down you in between your father and boyfriend. Your father giving the two of you a look that caused your stomach to drop, but Phillip ignored it tried to anyway. You glance over at him noticing a light lipstick stain, your lipstick stain it wasn’t very visible but it was still there if your wore a lighter shade maybe could have gotten away with it but as of now he knew he had to.

“Graves come get a drink with me.” Your father spoke, Tapping your leg to let him through.

Oh shit, shit shit shit!

Lip nodded standing up going down the bleachers with your father. You looked over at your sister who was next to your mother, Nessa giving you a panicked look.

Phillip stood in line with your father the silence thick. The noise of the fair and rodeo seemed so dreadfully loud. Phillip soon opened his mouth to say something but was cut off “how long have you been sleeping with my daughter.” Shepherd spoke dangerously calm.

“Im sorry?” Graves asked, his heart dropped into his stomach.

Shepherd turned his head looking him dead in the eye “How. Long. Have you been sleeping. With my daughter.”

Phillip wasn’t one to show weakness nore fear but right now he was fucking scared, he made a reckless misstep because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few more hours. “Sir, I.. shit.” He took a breath his voice slightly shaky.

“For about 9 or so months now.” He spoke, you two have known each other longer but have been together since late February.

Shepherds head turned back looking in front of him ordering his beer. The two men stepped out of line Phillip trying to explain the situation but he wasn’t having it.

“You realize my daughter is almost 10 fucking years younger than you. And I told you Graves, you and your boys being around my family you were forbidden to involve your self with any on my daughters, Natalie, Vanessa, (name). Yet here I’m finding myself having this conversation with you because your sleeping with my youngest.” Shepherd spoke his voice still calm not wanting to cause a scene, but Shepherd was livid.

Graves had just dug his own grave, they had been caught. “Sir Im aware how old she is and I know I wasn’t supposed to get involved with your daughters life it just happened… we-” Phillip spoke getting caught off.

“I don’t want to hear excuses Phillip, let me make this clear. You can stay the rest of the night because I invited you but when you take my daughter to her apartment tonight because she’ll use her sister to cover for her. I want you to cut contact with her or I will release you if your duties.” Shepherd said his face close to Phillips.

“Do I make myself clear boy.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

With that the two men returned on there way back. Phillip couldn’t believe how easily he gave into your father, how easily he just had to leave you. He couldn’t do that to you nor himself, but his career, was at risk something he’s worked hard for something her loved yet cherished you. He loved you, so fucking much. Walking back up he saw the worried expression your wore through a small smile, he gave you a reassuring smile nodding at you as he sat down.

Your head turned looking at him, but you couldn’t read him, nothing.

The night went by slower than you would have liked, the rodeo ended at about 11 your family and Phillip now on the way out and you had done exactly what your dad had known. You had used your sister as cover walking the opposite direction with her and Lip Nessa soon seeing her way out.

Getting in the truck you finally spoke “What did my father say?” She asked, he brows frowned.

He didn’t say anything he only began to start driving, his blue eyes focused on the road.

“Phillip what did you and my dad talk about..” now you were scared.

“Baby…”

“Lets talk when he get you back to your place..” he spoke his hand laying on your thigh rubbing it softly.

So you guys did getting into your apartment you took your boots off placing you hat and bag down, Phillip followed in behind you but didn’t remove his shoes he wasn’t wearing his hat anymore. You walked up to him going to him your hands going to touch his face, but he stoped you his hands grabbing your wrist.

“We cant do this anymore..” he whispered.

What? No what the fuck.

“What do you mean..” you couldn’t feel the lump in your throat form you knew what he ment.

“Doll don’t look at me like that… please don’t look at me that way…” his voice soft, his blue eyes focused on you.

“No, no fucking tell me. You cant just.” You spoke, you voice breaking.

“What did he tell you, what did he make you think.” You asked your hands now in fist.

“(Name) dont make this harder than it had to be. He knows…”

“No shit he know you’re standing here breaking up with me!” You shouted pulling you hands from his grip pushing him back a little.

“What the fuck Phillip! are- are you kidding me…” you cried out.

“Why..” you asked letting out a frustrated cry.

“Im 32 sweetheart, your only 23 you have so much to live for. Im… im only gonna hold you back..” he spoke, that lie made him sick, you were living he would never do anything to hold you back. Yet that that excuse he chose to you and you called bullshit.

“Did he threaten releasing you from your position?”

He looked down at her “No.. no”

“Stop lying dont fucking protect him, tell me.” You spoke sternly few tears falling down your face.

Graves looked at you, he hated how you were about the only person that could see through his lies. “He did..”

And you knew how much that job meant to him, how hard he worked for the shadow company how many years he put into the military and now you stood in the way of that. You couldn’t blame him, but it hurt, hurt even more when you weren’t gonna let your father take that away from him. Phillip took a step towards you he wanted to explain you knew the love that he carried for you, but you weren’t gonna make him chose because he was considering it.

“Don’t let me come in between that, I sorry Lip I- I didn’t know he would do that. That he was going to threaten you position.” His heart broke hearing your words.

“Please don’t apologize, never apologize.. I love you so much I hope you know that. I don’t want to lose you.” He spoke taking your face in his hands making you look at him, tears stained your features.

“Phillip, your worked so hard for all of that, don’t chose me over 10 years of hard work. I cant make you do that. I openly went against my fathers wishes and his we were reckless and now you have to go back to work don’t let me drag you down.” Her hands held into his forearm your heads weight falling into his hands.

No, you couldn’t. You could never hold him down, he wanted you and would give up his line of work to be with you. But you wouldn’t let him.

“Doll, don’t say that you could never hold me back.” He spoke his eyes starting to gloss over.

Dont cry, not in-front if her not now.

“You gotta go Lip… you- god, you have to let me go as I do too” you sobbed quietly.

He pulled you in close wrapping his arms tightly around you, “please don’t give up on me.” He whispered his head laying onto of yours, your soft cries muffled into his shirt. He could feel the wet spot build up on his shirt.

“Go Phillip.” You said making yourself push against him, “Fucking go! Please!” You pushed him back.

“I love you (name)..” he spoke softly.

Your bottom lip trembled “I love you too..”

It felt as if someone had just stabbed him over and over and fucking over just left to bleed out.

Maybe this was it.

Okayy I felt dramatic so here’s some angst maybe a part 2 im not sure though we’ll see!

#x black reader #graves call of duty #phillip graves #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x you #graves cod #graves x reader #cod graves #graves mw2 #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x black!reader #graves x you #graves x black!reader #philip graves #cod philip graves #shepherd mw2 #General Shepard

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quixtrix · 2 months

Text

let's talk BL manga lore; on grooming, identity, and racism

spoilers for the official captain laserhawk bl manga ofc, plus brief discussion of grooming I've refrained from speaking about it because of spoilers, but it's been well over a month and I believe that it's time to openly discuss it. if you would still like to read the manga before reading this discussion, here's the link to buy a physical copy and you can search up 'Captain Laserhawk: Crushing Love' in your digital book store for it. okay time to talk about two, basically three subjects; racism, identity, and grooming. i'm starting with the grooming first, because that's the main focus of this manga. i would have to preface this by saying i've already discussed this topic in an earlier post (albeit it is a prediction, but it is a spot on prediction.) i'll briefly elaborate on it right now with what we know.

dolph's very first day with alex was carefully calculated to where dolph would be exposed to the world, but heavily rely on alex. he is shown around to alex's friends and is able to buy his own clothes, but it is under the heavy scrutiny of alex. alex ultimately decides what dolph wears, alex decides how the day goes, alex leads dolph. even when they have a beach day, take note of how alex holds dolph, dragging him around.

even the romance and the events leading up to when alex takes dolph's virginity are calculated. note how alex grasps dolph's hand, grabbing on tight enough to almost press down on his knuckles, loosening his hand, making dolph relinquish control. the context for the fight page is that after their sweet lil beach day, alex takes dolph down an alley where alex knows that he'll come across people who aren't the fondest of him. this event was calculated, alex knew it was going to happen, and he used it to test out his new lil boytoy.

also, alex taking dolph out to fight isn't just so he can get in the pants of a barely 18 year old. while holloway notes during this flashback that adrenaline is the greatest aphrodisiac, this is a test to see how good the new weapon he picked up is. how the new boy works, to see how eden's boy robot can benefit his group, not just him. its literally in the morning panels we get where alex talks with that woman, anna. they're talking about how loaded he is with tech, and while alex does consider that, he still actively thirsts over dolph.

also im jus saying if i personally was talking with one of my greatest confidants and they refer to someone i'm thirsting over as KID, i would personally be icked out. i would have a conscious and not do some weird shit, like literally refer to dolph in passing as kid in the next page. dolph aint even the first one who alex has done this shit to, as evident by this line by one of his friends, grace.

alex is a groomer and groomed dolph, case closed.

anyways! time to get on with what i really wanted to talk about, how racism and loss of idenity ties into dolph's character!

in this manga, during pillow talk between dolph and alex, we get dolph's backstory. dolph literally has only known this man for a day and he's giving him lore because alex treats him more normal than eden did. god. ANYWAYS ENOUGH DWELLING ON DOLPH BEING A VICTIM IN ALL WAYS INCLUDING BEING ONE OF THE OXFORD STUDY, we get to know about his brief life before eden took him in.

now let me turn for a moment to the show, and how we were told about dolph's backstory. this is VASTLY different than what we got in the show, with it being implied that dolph's parents were a white prostitute and a darkskinned immigrant man. this adds onto the idea that this supposedly impoverished, crack addicted boy came into this world not as an act of love, but as a mistake. not just a mistake though, his parents are supposedly the epitome of immoral, a prostitute and a criminal. not to mention that this also ties into the idea of the uncultured brown man and pure white woman, basically a racist idea that the scary immigrants who aren't like us good white christian americans (and honestly jus any homogenous group in general, though in america its ofc more applicable to white people), are corrupting our mother marys, our women. eden takes on this perspective in order to subconsciously frame in the minds of post american viewers the idea of this man as an other that they are helping and didn't at all snatch up from his mother for child experimentation. the concept of other is something that finds it's origins in fascism, and in order to mask the presence of said fascism, someone who is seen as apart of the other is given a seat at the table with the collective us, (as in the majority, or the ones that are supposedly superior), and will ultimately serve as an example of why the other are labelled as such. i go into this more with my rayman analysis. I brought up the specific portrayal of dolph's backstory from eden's documentary to showcase how eden has manipulated the view people have of this man. eden has not only manipulated the view of the in universe audience, but eden has manipulated our view.

in the propaganda documentary, we are shown photos of this man being a captain, someone of relatively high rank in the military. you can't even normally earn that through having an education, you'd have to have years of experience. he's portrayed as older than he is.

another thing, dolph fans, let's be honest with ourselves; before the manga, it was not uncommon to headcanon that man as a FREAK. with both the supposed images of dolph at a nightclub and the flashback of alex and dolph meeting outside a club, it wasn't too hard to think that the hottest man alive in that show who was fully born human was a freak. a sexual deviant. someone that a christian mother would be horrified enough by that she faints. the manga however, shows us that dolph really isn't any of that. hell, he didn't even get to go to a club before he met alex. in reality, he's around 18 years and his only sexual experience is his groomer.

say that again with me, he's around 18. he's just around 18, he's a young adult, and the environment he's grown up in has stunted him by treating him as a subject, a thing, cutting him off from anything that would humanise this child by not allowing him to see his mother. hell, even his childhood best friend serves eden by being the one in his ear, having him at her beck and call all in the name of eden.

we get none of dolph's true backstory in the show for any number of reasons. maybe it's on purpose, maybe it's a result of having to possibly cut down episodes, who knows? what matters though is that this adds a layer to the core problem defining dolph's life; the perspective others have on him warping who he is.

back to the pages with dolph's memories of his mother, we see dolph as he was when he was just a boy. he's his mama's boy, her son, a child. even when eden takes him in, he stubbornly clings to that bit of him that's pure, untainted by the idea of him being an experiment, a tool. this bit of him, this hint towards who he is supposed to be as a person, is something he clings to desperately. it leads him to follow eden's orders again because they promise that they've found his mother.

and yknow what happened with who dolph was told was supposedly his mother?

she was just a random ass indian woman.

wasn't even the right woman. they just used his identity issues because he's indian, and she was indian and in a cult that eden needed to take care of.

this, while admittedly is kind of funny, (like the confusion is funny in the moment look at ts) is actually fucked up crazy racism. they literally said that this random ass woman who happened to be indian was his mother like HELL!?!??!?!?

this insane fr. lucy didn't even double check LIKE GIRL THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR FRIEND'S MOTHER WHO HE HASNT SEEN SINCE HE WAS LIKE 6 AND YOU DIDNT EVEN DOUBLE CHECK IF SHE'S THE RIGHT PERSON?!?!?!?

moving on from that, this actually brings up a deeper layer of dolph's identity issues; the lack of cultural identity.

i want to preface this by saying that i am not entirely sure if this is the right term for this identity issue nor am i claiming to be an expert on the type of identity crisis that i am about to discuss. that being said, this specific disconnect of cultural identity that dolph has is actually reminiscent of those adopted from other countries, or transnational adoptees. there seems to be a need within these adoptees to find out more about their own heritage or their own mothers and families that they now struggle to find. while dolph does not actively go out to reconnect with his heritage, he does exhibit desires to find his birth mother. this type of identity issue seems to ask the question of 'what could I have been if...?,' and it tends to mess with the idea of the self. adoptees that struggle with this question hold a desire to go back, to almost reclaim what would have been. yes, dolph is not adopted into a family, but he is still a child under the care of eden, which became like his family, which is why i believe that this kind of identity issue could reasonably be applied to dolph. it explains why he does what he does in the manga, and how it's ultimately wrapped up by him losing this desire and moving forward. albeit he moves forward by alex instead becoming his main purpose, but this serves as the first chain of the past that he leaves behind. with this, he severs a tie that would have made him continue to be stuck under eden's control, and possibly find himself. he answers the question of what could have been with 'it doesn't matter anymore.'

but actually, he doesn't answer that question. he leaves it be.

i am reading way too into this tho lol. i would say that he doesn't explicitly say it, and that we do see a lack of dolph's past being used against him in that way because dolph has freed himself from that part, but in reality, it's because eden can't pull the same trick twice. im aware that the manga focuses HARD on dolph's grooming, but i feel like they really could have properly wrapped up dolph's identity arc with his mother if it was acknowledged at the end, but i fear we are left unsatisfied. that's one of my gripes with the manga. it gives us things that tie up loose ends, but some of these ties have entirely missed the holes they were supposed to secure. but what is done is what's done, and here we are.

tl;dr, dolph was groomed by alex. dolph's identity has also been warped by eden heavily, by how they dehumanised him as a child to be a weapon internally, to how he's shown to the public to be a case that they've saved, and yet he still becomes something that is "disgraceful." textbook example of this poor boy that we have saved that is actually jus like all the others that we know. dolph also suffers under similar identity issues as adopted children do, and this specific issue of his is let go in order to allow him to begin moving on and finding himself.

as always, im open to discussion and critique! my askbox is open as well if you want me to yap abt smth else in the show :P

#cw: grooming #captain laserhawk #dolph laserhawk #character analysis #analysis #admittedly rushed through the grooming analysis but its like.#read the manga #literally jus read the manga #its spelt out for us #i might honestly do something with the sexualisation of dolph next #its been bugging me lol #like that man could be in ym ap classes with me #hes literally my age #anyways this is a long analysis lol #long ass yap session #i have a lot of thoughts abt this manga can you tell #also sorry this isn't as clean as my other analyses are #its a ramblely one

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respectthepetty · 3 months

Note

Non is either dead, he's dead and now an evil spirit terrorizing the boys or he is alive and the main killer. Thai horror films leans heavily on ghosts and supernatural but the creators of DFF seemed to have also taken inspiration from western horror/slasher films like I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Blair Witch Project, Scream and Friday the 13th.

If they are following western horror tropes then the obvious killer(s) or accomplice(s) would be Phee, Tan or both. If that is the case then Jin is clearly the classic final girl.

White has no personal stakes at this point or role in the story. He would be a pretty underwhelming final girl because I think hes boring so far. He's either cannon fodder to be slashed or he only survives because the killer is defeated. I would love if they changed my mind but we are already on episode 8. So unless we get more backstory on White that seems to be where his storyline is headed. Tee has been the more interesting character of that duo.

If they actually want to "surprise" the audience then revealing White as the killer or an accomplice would be a cool twist.

Anon, have you realized that I'm being UNREASONABLE about Dead Friend Forever? You've seen my Wild Ass Theories, so you must know I'm losing my mind with my little whiteboard and red string trying to connect the dots, right?

I'm prepared for all outcomes because I'm unhinged about his show, but . . .

"I think [White's] boring so far"

White slander? In my inbox? On a Tuesday?!

White is either an innocent bystander like his name implies caught up in this fuckery because his boyfriend Tee SUCKS, or he is a killer whose big doe eyes and kind demeanor tricked all these boys into believing he was there for love and not for *murder*, but either way, White will survive.

White realized there was no cell service.

White found the walkie-talkie.

White got the walkie-talkie working.

White found the knife.

White found the gun.

White saw part of the video.

White keeps dragging Tee's ass back when Tee wants to run.

White saw a rash on his skin.

White didn't know Tee's uncle was going to jail.

White wasn't supposed to be there.

The boy is propelling this plot forward, and it could very well be because he is Non's brother and is lying about not knowing anything about Non or Tee's uncle, which is why he swindled his way onto this trip so he would be the least suspicious and take Tee's ass down!

But what keeps me stuck is he is actively dating Tee. White is having shower sex with a man who roped his brother into money laundering, watched him get beat up, and possibly left him for dead?! Is Non's brother actually that crazy?!

In my mind, Jin could be a killer before White! But Jin is being extra creepy about Non, and I think it is being easily dismissed. Too easily.

Jin keeps touching Non. Jin keeps staring at Non. Jin convinced Non to stay with his bullies. Jin took a video of Non and planned to upload it, so regardless if the upload happened or not, the boy is still not Final Gay status.

I have not liked Jin or Tee since the first episode. Tee told White he was being disobedient and Jin had too much attitude to be on a trip with his buddies. In the words of Lil Jon & The East Side Boyz, "if yo ass wanna act, then you can keep your ass where you at."

So if Jin was sooooo upset to be on this trip, why did he come? As a killer? Possibly. But as the past as shown us, Jin does what the group does. He might protest and make side comments, but Jin is always going to do what the group wants. That's not Final Gay behavior.

This is Jin's going away celebration, so he really could be a killer and planned this entire ordeal to get everyone back together before he kills them all and peaces out to America.

But at this point, I'm completely biased.

Jin is my #1 enemy

Tee needs to die by White's hands

Tan and Phi are in this together

Non is alive

White will be the Final Gay because Phi and Tan wouldn't take out an innocent boy who wasn't even supposed to be there

And I'm quickly losing my mind

White lives.

Or else.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #Wild Theories #I have theories for days #and they only get wilder #but why do y'all keep asking me about them #I'm being unreasonable #I cannot see the light #because I don't want to #White will live #or else!

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transmascnaotoshirogane · 4 months

Text

pond

got impatient. woe, fic be upon ye

the format is fucked up (read; not indented) because tumblr was pissing me off. and i cannot fight with it at 2am. we might fix it later

ao3 ; x

Legend is a man of many talents. He has a lot of hobbies and skills, all picked up over his many years of adventuring. ..but sometimes, he surprises himself with what he can do. It’s a little intimidating, to think you know what you’re capable of just to be informed you can do something you’d never even considered, but…it is what it is. It’s best to just accept it when it happens.

That being said, Legend isn’t used to the fact these strange, rabbit-like creatures in Wild’s era seem to like him. A lot.

Rupee stuck around, following close behind Legend whenever they walked anywhere—as if he was afraid Legend would disappear if left alone for one minute. For a little while, this was cute—Rupee would even trail after Four, sometimes—but eventually ‘cute’ became ‘annoying’, and Legend kind of wishes the rabbit-creature would stop toddling after him all the time.

“Ledge, your lil friend is trying to get your attention,”Four spoke up quietly, not looking up from whatever book they’re reading. Wild had given it to them as a birthday gift, when he’d learned Four’s birthday had passed without the smithy saying anything. He also made Four a cupcake, despite the smithy’s protests.

Four shared it with Legend and Rupee later on. Rupee seemed confused at the idea, but had eaten his third of it after Legend had. Legend noted that it was carrot cake, and that he absolutely needs to get that recipe from Wild before this adventure is over.

Sometimes, Rupee will run off and find things to bring Legend, and other times he all-but-drags Legend with him to show the veteran something. It’s a little endearing, and sometimes Rupee finds some interesting stuff. That’s only sometimes, though.

In the span of a few weeks—he thinks, anyway. It’s a little hard to tell—he’d gained the attention of three more bluepees, none of which stayed too long but were present enough to have been named Koholint, Puddles and Blueberry (that last one came from Four. He’d let the smithy name her when they were upset one night) respectively.

Much like Rupee, however, they fussed over Legend too much. He’ll say he doesn’t know why they do it, but he does, and he hates it.

Just because his bunny form is a little…smaller than the average bunny, doesn’t mean he’s a baby.

Legend sighed. “What’s up, Rupee?”He tilted his head at the creature, groaning in annoyance when Rupee pawed at his leg before turning and hopping a small distance away, before stopping and turning to see if Legend was following.

Looks like he wants Legend to follow. Reluctantly, Legend stood up. “If the others ask, I’m just taking a walk. Rupee wants to show me something.”

“Okay. Be careful, vet.”

“Will do.”He hums, turning and following Rupee as he began to lead the veteran somewhere.

Belatedly, Legend realises that his sword is still with Four, but he doesn’t think he’ll need it. Not really. Rupee doesn’t drag Legend anywhere dangerous—hell, half of the time they don’t even go too far from wherever the chain had set up camp anyways.

Rupee kept going, occasionally slowing down to see if Legend was still following and allowing him to catch up before hopping off in front again. How considerate.

Honestly, Legend doesn’t know why he bothers entertaining it when Rupee leads him away; but no matter how much he questions himself, he still chooses to follow. If asked, he’ll deny the fact he questions himself on it. Nobody needs to be inside his head, except the ones already there. “...you’re not serious here,”Legend sighed out, watching as Rupee disappeared, appearing in a puff of blue smoke at the top of a nearby cliff. “You want me to climb up there? With these bones? No way in hell.” …he climbs up the cliff anyways. He’s admittedly curious about why Rupee wants him up there in the first place. Once he’s safely made it up, Rupee begins to lead him along again, stopping every so often so Legend can catch up. They don’t travel much further, as Rupee leads Legend into a clearing with a pretty tree and a pond in the centre. Vaguely, Legend recognises that this place reeks of magic. It doesn’t feel hostile, though, just…curious. “Okay, Rupe. What’re we here for?”He kneels down to the bluepee cautiously. In return, Rupee nudges his hand, and Legend belatedly realises that Rupee was trying to comfort him. He’s not leading Legend anywhere else, now, just sitting with him and nuzzling up to him. He still seems to think Legend needs to be comforted. Legend would be mad if it wasn’t Rupee. But it is, so he doesn’t, and instead settles onto the grass with him. He has to admit, this place is calming. It’s quiet, and absolutely soaked in protective magic. It’s safe. Even if the magic here feels curious, like it’s trying to figure out who and what Legend is, it doesn’t seem like whatever it’s coming from seems to be hostile. The veteran relaxes, running his fingers through the glowing blue fur of his little companion. Rupee seems to appreciate it. Legend doesn’t relax like this often. At home, he does. He has plenty of animals back home that he can do this with, he just…doesn’t do it while adventuring. His ears twitch. Something blue moves near the pond, but it’s too small to be a bluepee. It’s…a horse, he thinks. But it’s…not a horse. He knows what a horse looks like. He has one of his own at home. Twilight’s got his horse, Epona, with them. This is a horse, but it’s…not.

It has a similar glow to the bluepees, and Legend registers that the magic he felt earlier is coming from this being. How weird. The horse-thing seems to stare at Legend, and all he can do is stare back. He swears this thing has more eyes than it should. It has antlers, too, sort of like the ones that the bluepees have. After a solid, uncomfortable minute, it takes a step closer. And closer, up until it’s right in front of the veteran. Legend stares at it, before slowly standing up. He never takes his eyes off of the creature, and doesn’t even think about moving too quickly. Once he’s standing, he offers a hand out to the creature. He can feel the aura from the thing. It’s curious. Protective. “I’m gonna call you Pond,”Legend decides, once the…horse (he’ll keep calling it a horse, for now) nudges into his hand. “I don’t have any food with me.”He mumbles. “I’m sorry.”He does feel a little bad about it, but how could he have known?

Pond seemingly doesn’t mind. He spends a while just,,,sitting there, in the presence of a fluffle of bluepees and Pond. It’s…nice. Their presence almost feels healing, as he doesn’t seem to have a single complaint about how his body feels. Eventually, though, he realises that he did sort of leave without telling anyone except Four, and they might be getting worried now. “Rupe, we have to go,”Legend sighs. He doesn’t want to. He sort of just wants to stay here. Rupee hops up, though, and Legend pulls himself off of the ground. He turns to Pond, and runs his fingers through their mane. “I have to go now, Pond. It was nice to meet you.” Pond doesn’t seem happy. Makes a sound of protest that Legend’s only ever heard from Pepper, when he does something that she doesn’t like. “I know,”He frowns. “I’m sorry. I would stay if I could.”And he would. He would spend so much longer here if he was able. Pond seems to make a decision. Starts trotting away from the body of water, towards where Rupee is sitting. Legend, confused but needing to go that way anyways, follows. This is how he finds himself walking down a beaten path with a bluepee and a strange, horse-like creature who feels like a deity. This is how he finds himself back at camp, still with the two in tow. “Hey Ledge, enjoy your—”Wild cuts off, staring behind him. “This is Pond,”Legend informs. Then, “Do you know what it is…? I think it’s a horse? But it’s not.” “That’s—Legend, that’s the lord of the mountain.”Wild blinks rapidly. “That’s basically a minor god. How did you..” “Oh. Pond just kinda followed us back.” “Pond.”He wheezes, and Legend thinks he might be dying for a second. “You somehow befriended a minor god, and you named it Pond?” Legend pouts. “I think it’s a good name.” “For a pet, maybe.” Legend frowns and turns to Pond. “Do you like the name I gave you, or do you want something else? Nudge once for you like it, twice for you want a new one.” Pond nudges him once. “See? Pond likes it!” “Vet. You’re back.”Four hums, wandering over to scoop Rupee up into their arms, tilting their head at Pond. “Made a new friend?” “Yeah. Named ‘em Pond. Wild says they’re a minor god. Cool, right?” “So cool.”Four nods, petting Rupee. “Is that what Rupee wanted to show you?” “Yeah.”Legend fetches an apple from his bag, feeding it to Pond as he speaks. “There’s a little pond up on that hill. Pretty tree. There’s a lot more bluepees there, and that’s where Pond was.” Four hums, still holding Rupee as they step a little closer to Pond, tilting their head curiously. Legend notes that Four stays behind him, as if Pond might get spooked by Four’s very existence. “So creepy…Pond is so cool. Can we keep them?” “If they’re a god like Wild says…we shouldn’t, no. Pond really didn’t like the idea of me leaving their side, though. Like. Got so upset when me and Rupee went to leave that they followed us all the way back.” Four whistles. “Damn. Hey, can we swap Epona out for Pond? Pond looks cooler.” “Four!”Sky scolds with a frown. “I’m joking~ Relax. We can have both.” “You can’t keep the lord of the mountain!”Wild whines. Despite Wild protesting it, though; Pond hangs around the group for the rest of their time in this era, hovering over Legend and Rupee. Wild accepts this.

Later, he tells Legend that he’s lucky to be able to befriend Pond—who, Wild reveals, is actually called Satori—so easily. Legend doesn’t get it, though. Never does. He’s not really that lucky. Animals just like him. Wild throws something at him when he says that. Genuinely throws his soup ladle at the veteran, while the others laugh about it. Distantly, Legend wonders why animals trust him so easily. It can’t just be because he’s sometimes a bunny. It’s weird, but welcome. He does need to look into it, though. Preferably before he accidentally befriends another deity.

#the rainbow twinks #rainbow ramblings #asmo and prince <3 #linked universe #lu #linked universe legend #lu legend #linked universe four #lu four #linked universe wild #lu wild #(those last two r brief)#rupee the bluepee #lu fic #lu fanfiction #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfiction #guys please....

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kc5rings · 8 months

Note

If you're doing the sticker prompts I rolled 1 for Nian

I more intended it as a game for folks who want a prompt for themselves for art or fic, but luck is on your side because I happened to be thinking about Nian already this morning after seeing some metal gear that made me insane

(Not taking any other prompts at the moment but the game is here if anyone wants to use it for themselves)

Under the cut: Chastity, heat reference, improper use of medical equipment, improper definitions of medical equipment, Nian Gets Trolled.png

“I should have figured when Hibiscus messaged me to come drag you out of medical that it would be something ridiculous like this.”

Nian crossed her arms, grinning and unrepentant, as ever immune to Lava’s scathing reprimands.

“All I’m saying, is you’d think an open minded medical facility like Rhodes Island would be a little more receptive to a holistic, non medication approach to a very common medical concern for many of its op-“

Lava cut into Nian’s speech before she wound herself up into full pitch mode, leaning heavily on her cane with one hand while gesturing vaguely at what Nian was wearing.

“Is that what we’re calling….. all this then?”

Far from being deterred Nian’s grin only widened as she did a little turn to make sure Lava got a good look, which she happily did, taking a moment to appreciate forge hewn muscle before sighing and taking in Nian’s “outfit”

Her regular clothing had been discarded the moment Lava had shut the door to her quarters, Nian having been in a hurry to show off her latest project. Across her chest was a tight band of steel, with a cup covering the entirety of each breast. Continuing down from there revealed a steel waist corset cinched reasonably tight, though Lava couldn’t begin to imagine how that was accomplished with metal.

Finally, there was the belt.

Just a bit below the edge of the corset sat the waist band of what could only be described as what it was, a chastity belt. Perfectly shaped to fit the lines of Nian’s body, with a ring in the waistband to settle at the thick base of Nian’s tail, a sturdy, contoured, front shield and capped off by a pair of wide metal bands on her thighs. As with the rest of the ensemble it was all secured with ornate locks and polished to a near mirror shine.

Lava pinched the bridge of her nose

“Nian, this is obviously fetishwe-“

“Medical aids, Lil Lava, please”

“Not calling it that.”

Despite her curt tone Lava knew this was a losing battle, once Nian had a concept she wanted to talk about she refused to let it go until someone heard her out and that someone was usually Lava

“Fine. I’ll bite.”

“Promise?”

“Just make your pitch Nian. How is any of this possibly medical?”

Lava could swear she saw a literal flame in Nian’s eye for a moment before Nian gave her an overly dramatic bow, setting the many locks adorning her accessories jingling

“It’d be my pleasure. Ya see I’ve done my research and found that a sizable number of Terran species experience heat, now heat is the common term for-“

“I know what heat is Nian, you know I do.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll skip ahead.”

Nian made a placating gesture and rolled on with her pitch, pointing to each relevant piece of gear as she went

“The cups on the top prevent contact with sensitive nipples even during rigorous activity or while laden with equipment, the front shield prevents contact that might worsen symptoms and splits at the back for comfort, the bands on the thighs and tail help keep everything in place and secure. Obviously it’s all padded, every measure had been taken to ensure both comfort and hygiene during long term wear while-“

“And the corset? What “medical” benefit is that providing”

Nian flashed her teeth again, despite her protests Lava was an excellent “yes and” partner when she felt like it, and now Nian had gotten her to play.

“Well you see.” Nian drew herself up to her full height, head and shoulders over Lava to the point she almost loomed.

“They are great for your posture.”

Lava rolled her eyes, sure that Nian was familiar enough with the movement that she’d recognize it even with Lava wearing her visor

“Right. Well putting aside the frankly astounding number of ethical problems with all of that, it still wouldn’t work here at Rhodes.”

Nian tilted her head, curious.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

It was Lava’s turn to grin, she knew she was playing Nian’s game now, no helping that. But they’d been at this for years and Lava had gotten very good at playing.

“Haven’t you ever seen the combat logs of some of our operators once they get riled up in a fight? That pretty belt of yours wouldn’t last a second against someone like operator Horn in heat, no chance in hell”

“Lil Lava you wound me! In my pride as an artisan no less.” Using her tail Nian fished something out of her pile of discarded clothes and with a flick, sent something through the air at Lava. “Catch.”

Lava snatched the object with one hand before taking a moment to look it over. “Key” would be an accurate description but a very reductive one, the body of the key was cylindrical, with the teeth numbering in the dozens all around its circumference. Stranger though, was the fact that as Lava stared at the key it’s teeth became less defined and fuzzy, seeming to almost move.

“Give me fifty years and I *might* be able to produce that same exact key from memory, anybody who’s not me though? No chance.” Only Nian could make admitting she couldn’t do something in less than fifty years sound like a boast. “And that’s not all.”

Nian lifted one clawed finger up for Lava to see, the tip glowing forge hot after a moments concentration, and reached down to drag it up the front shield of the belt. Lava winced at the terrible screech and sparks the contact made, but when Nian finished her little display the belt hadn’t even lost its shine. “I built this piece as sturdy as I can make something, trust me when I say that without that exact key it’s not going anywhere.”

“….. Ok I’ll admit it, that’s pretty impressive.” Lava had seen Nian shape ingots by hand and shear chunks off of them with those same claws, that belt really was something else.

Lava pocketed the key.

From the same pocket she’d stored the key in Lava produced a small injection gun, with casual ease she reached out and pressed it against the exposed skin of Nian’s hip, right in the gap between the bottom of the corset and the top of the belt and pulled the trigger.

Nian, for her part, made no move to stop Lava and barely reacted to the injection. Lava had the basic medical training afforded to all higher level Rhodes Island operators and had long since become adept in administering her own meds so Nian hardly felt a thing.

Aside from a sudden burning curiosity.

“What was-“

“Highly concentrated heat inducer.” Lava let the now empty injector clatter onto a nearby table. “Gavial slipped it to me when I was coming to get you, mentioned something about how she owed you a prize after handing her a string of losses and that because you never had a proper physical she had to take a “Gavial Guess” at the dosage.”

Lava took advantage of a rare moment of stunned Nian silence to close the gap between them. “You’re so sure this stuff is a good answer to heat? Fine, but you’re doing the testing. Be sure to record your findings while I’m gone.”

Lava allowed herself a smile only after turning away from Nian’s dumbfounded expression, trying to process what had just happened. Only the last word of “gone” snapped her out of it. “Wait, what do mean by “gone” Lil Lava?”

Lava tossed a hand up in farewell as she headed out the door. “Oh didn’t I mention? I’m leading an away mission of new recruits later today, shouldn’t be gone more than three weeks, probably.”

With that, Lava turned down the hallway, the staccato rhythm of her cane on metal flooring slowly growing distant. Leaving Nian reeling.

“Ok Lil Lava I get it, you got me fare and square this time, you can come back now!” The only answer Nian received was a sudden involuntary muscle clench, a spike in temperature and sweat slowly beading on her brow.

“L-Lava?!”

#arknights #nsft #once again I can’t keep things short to save my life #my writing #Nian and Lava’s dynamic is so fun to me #I’m firmly in the Domme leaning switch Lava camp #Nian is an immortal brat #all this because I saw some gear and thought of Nian this morning #also Lava has her cane because I feel like it gets forgotten a lot #and there needs to be more disabled dommes in things

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genericpuff · 10 months

Note

Hey, I've worked a bit in animation and just wanted to point out that shows very often get pitched and bought out, and can sit in the back burner for a really long time depending on the market! Seems like with all the strikes and post covid lag, and a market thats already saturated with greek mythology atm (think percy jackson live action coming soon, youtube series, other webcomics, etc.), lore olympus is probably floating in the air atm until the time is right. These kinds of things can take years to happen, even 10+ years! Some of the most popular animated shows were pitched years before they were picked up and sent into production. Hoping in the time its on hold, they get some really good writers to clean up the story. I don't mean to disregard your post, but just a lil bit of info on how that nature works in animation. I love lore rekindled too, keep it up!

Oh hey thanks for your input! So I do actually have a diploma in animation (though I never ended up working in the larger industry) so I know a bit about how things like that can happen. Nimona's a great recent example, it was bought in 2015 by 20th Century Fox but never made it through development because of Disney purchasing them and bringing the project to a crawl due to it being LGBTQ+, then they shut down Blue Sky and that kept the project in limbo until it got picked up by a new studio and brought to Netflix. So it took well over 10 years for that one to finally hit the screen.

That said, most of that post is addressing the fact that if LO is going to get a TV show (I'm really strongly believing it isn't at this point, esp not with JHC but that's me) then stalling it out for 10 years or however long probably won't be the best move. Especially not with how things are going with animation at large.

While LO is the biggest on the WT platform, the platform itself still isn't as prestigious here in the west as say, DC or Marvel. Its platform and its comics just don't have that sort of longevity out here. LO is also undoubtedly nearing the end of its run and it's struggling to stay relevant as it is - so to make a show years down the road when it's long gone out of everyone's minds (which it will be as soon as it ends and WT starts shilling the next big thing) just sounds like a missed opportunity. It could rejuvenate interest, sure, but it could just as easily flop due to its fanbase having moved on/lost interest/etc. LO is pretty much reliant on WT's advertising at this point, it's not a good sign that WT has to keep putting notifications to read LO everywhere on the app. WT loooves the "strike while the iron is hot" methodology and now with the show they just drag it out? It feels less like striking the iron while it's hot and more like trying to get a fire going, period.

Like, when Nimona got its movie, it was like "omg Nimona's finally getting a movie!!!" but I can't help get the sense that if LO goes through that same treatment, the response is gonna be, "that gross comic with the underage girl and old man billionaire is still getting a TV show??" Maybe that's a mean assumption to make but if LO is struggling to stay relevant and in a positive light now, god knows what that's going to be like years from now if and when they do release a show.

Especially when it comes to comics like LO which generate so much criticism, I feel like it's going to go through the same thing Twilight did, where people adored it during the peak of its run but as soon as the series was over and the hype left everyone's brains it gave people room to actually reflect on it and realize how icky it was LOL (and if it goes the full way of Twilight, people will read it as a joke over how bad it is).

There are also theories in the community that a lot of what WT is doing with LO rn (paying for Rachel to be in the top billing spot at NYCC, getting her a second Eisner, etc.) could very well be them trying to "shop it around" for investors or a new network, by putting Rachel in the spotlight and going "see! look at how successful this comic is! buy it!" That's just a theory of course, but it really isn't a good look when LO wins awards and people ask why. It feels like WT's is trying to throw money at a problem without realizing what's causing the problem in the first place. It winning an Eisner or being hinted at a TV show or getting a top billing spot at NYCC won't give it legitimacy because the comic they're advertising is still garbage, they're trying to convince people it has merit when it doesn't. If anything, it'll make LO and WT lose even more credibility because it makes people wonder why the fuck a comic like LO is winning those awards and why it's being given more attention and opportunities over other comics on the platform that are far more deserving.

Anyways, this post is kinda all over the place, but that's my two cents, my point really is that if there is a show happening, it's definitely not happening soon (in spite of Rachel saying "yeah it's happening!") because there's no clear timeline or progress that's been made or even team in charge of it at this point - and if it happens down the road, its only chance of doing well will be if it gets a major overhaul in its writing IMO because the comic is way too much of a mess rn for television LOL

That said, I'd love to genuinely believe that the show will happen someday, but I feel like the best time for it to happen has passed, especially with the comic losing the quality and prestige it was sold to JHC for since then. That's just me though.

#ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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skyhighru · 5 months

Text

funny story (and a kinda long one)

I installed the new update as soon as I saw it, went into the game and the first thing I noticed, is that they stole the candles in the middle of this small pond

weird, but it's not about that

so I changed my outfit (since I was still wearing one of the "somewhat fancy" ones that I wanted to wear tomorrow to the festival), went to Aviary, to check what's new, lit the white candle to make this my new home,

and then went to take some pics, because Aviary looked pretty in the new lighting (at least I think it was new). and as I was doing that, a moth came up to me, did the point emote and then sorta abducted me – added me to friends, took my hand and started flying around and spam honking. I just kinda followed along, because at first I assumed they either wanted to show me something or just wanted some company

at one point they jumped into the fireplace and started doing the "follow me" emote. dunno what they were trying to do, but it was kinda funny

there was also another player who spam honked with us for a little bit, but they didn't add either of us to friends

then, after about 10 minutes of red moth dragging me around and still occasionally spam honking (with me being mostly confused, because I didn't know if they were trying to tell me something or if they were just goofing around), they eventually left the game

so I was like "well, that was weird", quickly sent them a heart, cause why not, and then remembered that I didn't check if there was anything new at the boat in original home

I flew towards the home portal, with Aviary turning quite foggy, which I thought was kinda nice,

but after I sat down at the home portal, I realized the fog wasn't just cool lil' thing. it was an omen. a bad omen...

because the portal wasn't working

for me and for 2 other players also sitting there

I tried standing up and sitting down again, stepping away and also sitting down again, closing the game and coming back – nothing. also for some reason random shared memories were playing without me tapping on them. they were just kinda... there (dunno if I was the schizophrenic one or the game)

usually I wouldn't care, since I remember it happening before, but this time was different, since I already set Aviary as my default home. and while you can get to the village through a portal at home, you can't do the reverse and get home through a portal in Aviary since there is none

and then, as I was about to post "guys what do I do if I trapped myself in the Aviary💀" here, the game suddenly woke up from its slumber and the home portal worked. after I got back, I instantly switched original home back to being the default one and now I will never walk near that white candle ever again

now that I think about it, perhaps that moth, that dragged me around Aviary, also trapped themselves in Aviary and thought that maybe I knew a way out. although probably not, because I think if that was the case, then they would bring me to a bench and outright told me that was the issue (we did pass a few benches, but they only lit a candle on one of them and never sat down on said bench)

TL;DR: went to check Aviary after new update, got abducted by a moth and then almost got trapped in the village by Hopeful Stewart

so yeah, overall it was pretty good, love the new white candle👍

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #season of revival #aviary village #sky cotl screenshots #skyblr #new crime on steward's crime list – abduction?

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hopefully-hellbound · 2 years

Text

M!Bailey x gn!Angel!PC

Bailey has one orphan that he can't stand because theyre always so nice and pure, and he's a bastard. Goes too far one day.

Noncon, purity loss, hurt feelings, noone is happy at the end, bastard bailey, a lil longer setup but eh

Bailey always fucking hated you.

Stupid little goody two shoes, who put him on edge more than a lunch date with Briar or Remy. Bailey knew those bastards were up to something, always were, but you... You he couldn't quite figure out, ever.

What could one think of someone who can remain so sweet in a town this rotten?

From the moment you came here, to his orphanage, you were the sweetest little thing, coming to Bailey at stormy nights asking for a hug, promptly getting doors slammed shut in front of your face. Working as a tutor since you were a child, using the little money you earnt to buy chocolates for the whole orphanage on Valentine's and Christmas - Bailey included. His always ended up right in the trash, it wouldnt be the first or last time someone tried to poison him.

You'd always come trottling to him when someone would break in, you had no fighting skills, no way to defend yourself - an absolute idiot who gave their pepper spray to their stupid friend Robin. Bailey thought you would get your head out of the clouds once youre eighteen and rent starts, but nope, didn't fucking happen!

He couldn't wrap his head around it, how you managed it, how you stayed clean, pure, good. He purposely barged in while you bathed multiple times, and there weren't any bruises on you, not even a chastity belt to protect you! He charged up his rent, no way anyone can get 2k a week in this town without getting their hands dirty!

And yet, here you were.

For twenty bucks a week youve rented a patch of Bailey's yard to make it a garden, and you sold the pretty flowers you grew there - vegetables were for the orphanage, and you didn't want any money for them, despite how suspicious he was. You pranced around with that fucker Avery once a week, you got money from the church, you worked at a local shelter and on some farm outside of town. And you. Stayed. Pure.

Worst it was, you still liked Bailey! You still came to him with problems he didnt care about! Still brought him the stupid chocolates and flowers twice a year even if he threw them away right in front of you! Still had that stupid, stupid smile on when he barked something at you and you replied.

Bailey could swear he saw a halo if he glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

And god, he hated it with the core of his corrupt soul.

He doesn't know what made him save you that one day.

He was just going around, trying to get his semi-monthly shopping done, annoyedly carrying bags of clothes for youngest orphans home. Little bastards had a lot of hand me downs, but he still paid for the basics of what the ones underage used. He was just considering calling up Leighton and trying to negitiate that uniforms would be given in school for cheaper, but then he heard a muffled scream come from an alley nearby. And while normally Bailey wouldn't think twice of it, he walked past it and from the corner of his eye, recognized that golden shine of a halo that was never there when he tried to check.

The men trying to drag you in a van weren't hard to politely convince to let go of you, they ran, clutching their bloody noses and dragging the friend who tried to kick Bailey in the balls to the hospital - maybe if theyre quick enough, he'll get to keep his leg intact.

But Bailey turned to you when you grabbed for his shirt, face burried in his clothes as you cried. First time he saw you cry, perhaps. He certainly didnt remember any others.

"Im sorry... im sorry im so-o-orry, they just showed up-"

Bailey doesnt hug you back, just awkwardly tells you to be more careful next time and dont waste his time again as he pushes you away.

And he would leave, he's already turnt to leave and spend the rest of the week wondering why the fuck would he save you, you of all people, when he heard you sniffle and he looked over his shoulder.

He shouldn't.

He really, really shouldn't.

Because there it was, that smile that always pissed him the fuck off, it still shone through your tears, still made you look so fucking angelic.

"y-yeah... t-thanks dad, i'll be more careful..."

And because of that one, single, forbidden word, Bailey snapped.

Your halo breaks when he shoves his cock in your tight, almost dry hole.

You sob and beg and nearly gag, but Bailey is enraged, hands on your neck choking you so hard your vision is so blurry you can barely see his face. Knuckles still bleeding from when he saved you, just minutes ago.

Bailey cant stop, your pleas for mercy are music to his ears, symphony for the supressed part of him that raged with envy every time he saw you and your stupid, happy grin. Every time he thought you'll finally see the world for what it really is, see Bailey for what he really is, but...

He guesses now you do.

He fucks you raw and hard, and soon you don't even have the voice to continue begging him to stop. Or maybe you've just realized that he won't.

Part of him that's not completely enchanted by just how good your virgin hole feels like vaguely registers your shopping bag thats laying where you dropped it. Little chocolates and wrapping paper fell out of it. That's right, tomorrow's Valentine's.

A sting of guilt strikes Bailey for the first time in decades, the simple thought of you getting him those stupid chocolates every year.... Suddenly thrusting into you doesn't feel as good anymore. He thought he would enjoy seeing that sparkle die in your eyes, but all he sees are tears and a reflection of himself.

Your guardian.

Your caretaker.

Your da-

Bailey drops you like a sack of potatoes, jerking off to quickly finish on your face. Suddenly every second feels wrong, every moment that should bring him sadistic satisfaction just makes him feel like shit. It's a feeling he doesn't like, just like how he doesn't like the look of betrayal on your face.

Maybe you'll learn now, he thinks bitterly, about trusting people.

He leaves you there in the alleyway, torn clothes and covered with his semen, to walk home on wobbly legs if something else doesnt snatch you up first. Bailey wishes it would, he doesn't want to ever see your hurt eyes again.

When Bailey finds little chocolates on his doorstep the next day, he doesn't throw them away.

#bailey the caretaker #bailey #degrees of lewdity #nc #tw: noncon #bailey the bastard

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autumnsup · 1 year

Text

Prompt: Anticipation

@wolfstarmicrofic

“Stop moving,” commanded Lily, as she applied eyeliner to Sirius. “Or do you want to look like a sad panda?”

“Worked for Lou Reed,” said Remus, who was already in full Rocky regalia. He still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to it, but a dare was a dare, and besides, James had begged to go as Dr. Frank-n-Furter this year for a change. This left Sirius with no choice but to go as Columbia, and Remus was enjoying the transformation immensely.

“Must you press so hard?” whined Sirius, crossing one fishnet-clad leg over the other.

Lily, with a sound of exasperation, licked at her eyebrow pencil and tried again.

“How many times is it now?” said Peter, who was going as Brad. He always went as Brad, and brought whatever girl he was dating as Janet.

“Fourth time,” said James, with a grin. He looked smashing in drag, and somehow not in the least effeminate. “And this time shall be the best, if none of us dies of anticipation first.”

Sirius, on the other hand, looked deeply androgynous in a twinkling bustier and bow tie. “Careful with the hair, Lils,” he advised. “Spell it too short, and it’ll look more Bowie than Columbia.”

“Enough with the glam rock music references,” said Lily. “The two of you listen to far too much as it is.”

“There’s no such thing as too much glam rock,” countered Sirius. “Because glam rock by definition IS too much.”

“You’re too much,” said Lily. “Now shush while I put on your lipstick.”

The end result wasn’t half bad, and Sirius looked at himself in the mirror at length, while the others wandered off to gather food and drink from the kitchen.

“Hey,” said Remus, lingering. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the look suits you.”

Sirius craned his neck to look Remus over from head to toe and back again, landing somewhere around his middle. “And you,” he said. “Shows off your abs to perfection.”

Remus was pretty sure that he was looking lower than his abs, but their friends were within earshot and he felt it was best to let that sleeping dog lie for now. “Who knew I had them,” he deadpanned, glancing down at himself. It was hard to overlook the scars, but thanks to time and various healing potions, they were more like tattoos than blemishes now, and Remus had to admit that they looked rather cool.

“I knew,” said Sirius, biting his lip and tilting his head back as he looked up at Remus, who felt absurdly tall and underdressed in comparison. “It’s about time the world catches up to the fact that my boyfriend is a gorgeous hunk.”

“Not the impression I was intending to make, but I suppose it beats being pinned as a bookish hermit.” He scratched at his head and added, “You do know that this is a blue-moon event and will probably never happen again.”

“Yes, I do. Just like we all know you’re so much more than that,” said Sirius, and Remus’ heart, which was apparently training for the circus now, did a backwards flip. “Along with Lily, you’re the glue that holds us together, and keeps James and me from getting into too much trouble.”

Remus looked away, blushing. “Yeah, well, I’m not always good at it.”

“Good enough,” said Sirius, and when Remus met his eyes again, the temperature of the room felt about five degrees warmer. “Now, what do you say we get away from these nutters and put those gold shorts to good use?”

Thanks for the awesome prompts this January! I had a lot of fun with them, and I enjoyed reading other people’s microfics too. I’m probably not going to be as consistent with posting microfics for February, as I’m working on writing a few longer fics at the moment. You’re welcome to check out my completed works on AO3 if it strikes your fancy. Keep up the excellent work, y’all! 🍀

#wolfstar microfic #wolfstar #marauders #rhps

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pageofheartdj · 1 year

Text

Uhhh maybe I’ll write down the chronology cause I don’t trust my memory at all, it already failed me xD

So. Hunter finding out the truth and running away with Collector’s tablet.

Realizing later he has it but not daring to throw away. Identity crisis. Collector’s mean comments don’t help. But at least they say what he is and name drops Philip xD

Somewhere in there Collector and Hunter get to see each other more than ‘just a grimwalker’ and ‘some shadow entity that worked with Belos’, but kids.

Hunter remembers about traitors so he is hoping to get in contact with them and goes to Black Market.

Due to plot convenience RED don’t go into that mission because of GG’s disappearance and again, plot convenience xD

But he meets Luz, who drags him into Owl House.

Everyone(minus King) meet Collector and Luz realized that was them in the past Philip found. Hunter connects the ‘Belos-Philip’ and ‘human Philip’ and Luz freaks out that Belos is Philip. Collector cackles at the secret being out.

In the morning they meet King. They positively freak out, dropping a bomb on King being a titan, and that freaks King out! There was no Eda or Hunter in the scene(and King asks Luz and Collector to keep it a secret for now) and after Hooty barfes the letter, King decides to check himself first. Collector joins Luz, King and Hooty cause ‘YAY TITANS’

But they hide cause also ‘Oh no Titans =,(’

So they don’t see how everything is wrong.

The Titan Trapper name makes King confused and Collector’s silence on possible ‘conflict with titans’ makes him think there was some civil war amongst them.

Luz goes with Hooty to Bill and finds the shrine. They know Collector, but still learn about killing part of the cult.

King is almost sacrificed, but by seeing the same tablet but broken and hearing the ‘free our god’ he immediately pulls Collector out. TTs freak out cause it’s their GOD. Collector freaks out cause all the baby titan skulls. And then Bill tries to sacrifice King for him and he unfreezes HARD.

Then Luz gets them and they ran away. Everyone are super traumatised and Luz’s guilt(oh hey Belos is Philip, oh hey I led Belos to this shadow kid, oh hey, I should have figured out this island was fishy and got both out) spikes.

They arrived to Owl House, but oops it’s empty.

MEANWHILE, while the gang is out Hunter for whatever plot convenience goes to Hexside(return something or whatever, the boy wants to be useful). And then the whole episode happens.

Hunter bunks with Gus and while chatting with him and Willow realizes he wasn’t checking his pensta. And gets burried by all the messages from Darius.

They contact and Darius visits him to make sure he is okay but also say not come back to Owl House because they were ambushed but he did not hear anyone being captured.

Hunter is distressed about Collector being confiscated as some artifact and Gus with Willow, already knowing some idea about Collector comforts him that his lil buddy is okay.

To Darius’s question Hunter explained even more vague about this other kid no one even knew about and either way he can’t explain it, you need to see it.

Back to the newly traumatised gang. They find Eda and Lilith and Collector asks if Hunter is around. He is not =( Collector questions that maybe he should go back to Belos already? But Lilith basically drops that sorry Collector, but he most likely used you, like everyone else. Collector is NOT happy about this and argues but there is still this... unsureness. Eda comforts him later and Collector says he did his part of promise so it should be Belos’s time now, but... you don’t treat you friend like that, don’t you.

Luz offers a heist to get King’s Francois and offers Collector to join for some fun adventure and they happily agree and to help King too!

Everything goes basically the same excpet Collector kept finding the wrong toys, each more bizarre than the last. And when Luz found it and showed it:

“But it’s nothing special.”

“Maybe he is not, but he special to King.”

Then the fight happens, Collector distracts Eda with shadows and they are captured, thankfully Collector was not visible in that moment.

When Luz was thrown into the vagon and Collector peeks out with concerned ‘Luz?’, she panicly shushes him, worrying that scouts will take the tablet and bring it back to Belos.

And then they are freed and the adults meet Collector(and yes, you have to see it yourself xD) and King gets Francouis.

Hunter who found out the adults meeting with the Owl fam wanted to join too but was not allowed. Only to wait in the hide-out.

And when they are back Collector is escitedly bounces around Hunter:

“Guess what? Guess what??”

“Wh-what?”

“You are Francois!”

“What?!”

“You see, Francois is not special or unique at ALL-”

“Uh-huh...”

“- but he is special to King! And you are special to me!”

“I don’t know how to feel about being compared to a toy, but thanks.”

Hunter makes sure Collector didn’t tell anyone that Hunter is a grimwalker which Collector forgot all together xD And asks to keep it a secret until he is ready. Asks if Hunter needs to do anything for Collector in return... But Collector says that’s not what friends do, so he promises.

And then Raine drops that Belos was searching for some stolen artifcat and this gets Collector all small and confused.

Hunter says he was scared too when he found out Belos was looking for him. But Collector denies being scared, they are friends(not sounding convinced whatsover) and continues in subdued tone watching Luz, Eda and others ‘I don’t think I like this game anymore. Maybe if I ask Philip real nice, he’ll stop?’

But that’s a no. Collector says Philip promised to free him, he just needed to find titan’s blood, that’s all. Hunter says he gave him the key with the blood. Collector knows that and he shrienks on himself.

He promises to find a way to free them. (Collector conveniently forgot he has a titan around xD)

Next everything is basically the same, Luz meets up with Willow and Gus(Collector is with them so they meet him too and later Amity xD). King and Collector tell Alador the truth. Hunter(Luz) is taken and everyone rush to the skull.

When they fight Belos and he strikes Hunter Collector gets out, obscuring his view ‘Leave Hunter alone, you bully!’ (he doesn’t want Hunter to break, he likes THIS Hunter!!)

Belos gets the tablet, does his evil jerk speech and throws him down.

King goes down after him, meets Kiki who says that the Collector can stop it (”He can do that?!) and when he finds the tablet(tell what you want but I refuse to believe it is so easy to break something like that) and King remembers that TT wanted to do some ritual to free him, Collector says it’s reeeeally easy!

And then they are free. He comes up, boops Belos, King reminds him about the draining spell, he boops the moon too. Everyone are in awe.

They grab Hunter in tight hug, spinning in the air and bring everyone up to their level to spin nearby.

Happy end! (goop-Belos still survived xD)

#the owl house #toh #Hunter Deamonne #the collector #king clawthorne #Partners of fate AU #Luz Noceda #raine whispers #darius deamonne #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #willow park #toh belos #philip wittebane #gus porter #Amity Blight

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koreposion · 11 months

Text

Thinking about Red

Smoked wood and sweet cherries

You sat there on the bed while kicking your feet and scrolling through social media. Nothing exciting was happening besides the usual potentially world ending event. At this point you were used to ignoring things like that to better your mental health over all.

There is no point planning for doomsday in this day and age.

Besides that, your online time was spent coming across little gems of videos. Text post jokes that got genuine laughter to leave you. You sent some of them to Red, your... roommate? Partner? You both never really bothered to put a label on your relationship because it always seemed like too much.

Both of you just wished for something cozy and uneventful, considering both of your mundane jobs. He works as a teacher and you work at a library. There is a day or two where you both get pleasure and displeasure in equal measures. Overall it's just day to day life that you both live with each other's company.

There is then the sound of a laugh track as the front door opens and closes. Red has gotten home and already has his phone pulled out. You could tell the moment you heard the laugh track that he plays on his soundboard. Ever since he got a phone he's been pulling all sorts of goofs and jokes on you.

You'd tell him to stop but he probably would take it to the next level.

"Honey 'm home!" He exclaimed as he walks into the living room setting his things down before ending up at your bedroom's doorframe, "Miss me, Doll?"

His pet name rolls off his tongue as smoke leaves his mouth. The smell of sharp cherries and firewood filling the air as he fills the emptiness with his presence.

"Course I missed ya." You say with a grin and make space for him on your bed. You pat a spot in which he can lay and he takes your offer. He kicks off his sneakers lazily before flopping down onto your bed. It creaks from his weight and you feel yourself lose balance as you roll into him.

"So why'd you stay out so late?" You asked him as he put away his phone and took a drag of his cigar.

"Would ya believe me if I said I got to meet the parents of my lil hell beasts?" He questions you with a big toothy grin, a golden tooth shines at you.

"I'd believe you." A casual reply as you lay your body on top of his playfully.

"Well then I lied, that's not what happened." Chuckling he puts out his cigar on his bone, snuffing out the fire and leaving ashes behind, "There was an after school program that they wanted me to supervise. Something bout, 'showing that everyone is kind' or whateva schools pretend to teach."

You hum in understanding as he says this. You get the feeling of being used as unity bait from the library. There are pictures of you up in the children and teen areas. It would have been more annoying if they just took those pictures and didn't pay you. At least the head librarian was kind.

"Ha! Loser, you got used for propaganda." You laugh at him playfully, rolling your body over his. You lay on his stomach and look at him and his expression.

He seems unamused before it gives way to his iconic grin. He chuckles before letting out a gut busting laugh. The irony of the joke not being lost on him as he holds onto you.

"Yeah, and m' not getting paid for it. Next time I just might skip out so I can come see ya sooner, Doll." He says while pulling you closer to his face, he then nuzzles you. A low rumble leaves him as his cat-like mannerisms cause him to purr.

You always love the sound of it and nuzzle back. Feeling the way he shook your body gently with his purrs.

"You know I don't like not knowin' where you are." You mention to him what must be for the hundredth time.

" It'd be real shitty if I just stopped showin' up and payin' rent." A joke but he does take what you say to heart, a soft blush appearing on his face, "Don't worry, I can take care of myself and I know you can take care of you."

"Just remember-"

"Ta let ya know if I need help, I know!" He finishes your sentence with a roll of his eyelight, "With the way yur harping over me I might think yer in love with me or somethin'."

With that we both go quiet as we stare into each other's eyes. The scent of firewood and cherries still lingering in the air as it mixes with the smell of your bedroom. Your heartbeat is loud even against his low rumbling purrs.

"You're lucky that I do." You say simply before giving him a kiss to the cheek.

"Ah, yer right..." He starts off as he looks away to avoid your gaze, "I don't know what I'd do without ya, Doll."

#thoughts #writing #reader x canon #or fannon?#Hey man #Underfell #underfell sans #i don't know what to tell ya #smoking

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kurottsukii · 9 months

Text

Five | Burning Bridges

"So you wanna go with me to Harrington's party later after I drop this brat off?" The question left her in shock, not the fact he made her feel like she was in heaven with just his touch and it all just vanished like it didn't even happen, but that he's willing to go to Steve's party and she didn't have to ask or even mention she was invited herself.

I mean would she still even be invited? Would he even be invited? Don't they hate each other? Why would he even go to the party? What game is he trying to play here? Questions were flooding in and swimming around her head that she completely zoned out from reality. Only to bring dragged back out after smelling menthol being blown in her face, causing her to wave it away while coughing. "I hate when you do that."

"Well welcome back sweetheart." He threw his hands in air in nothing but fake excitement because his girlfriend finally decided to join him back to reality.

"Enough with the bullshit though, am I going to get a answer to my question or are you just going to keep laying there and look pretty for lil ol me." He glanced down her breast with that smug smile of his, she didn't noticed but as his eyes lingered, they got darker. And the darker they got, the harder he got. And his jeans were already tight enough without the raging boner.

Feeling embarrassed, she tried to hide that feeling with annoyance as she fixed her clothes too.

"Yeah I'm going. I'll meet you downstairs, yeah?"

Just as she was about to leave, she could feel a pair of lips pressed against her neck, causing goosebumps to run down her spine. He didn't say anything after which was her que to go. Luckily Neil wasn't anywhere visible while she made her escape, she just wished that it was like that earlier. Her comeback sounded like shit. But can you blame her? She had to say something.

Not a minute later the two was outside, the two had an annoyed expression on their faces but that soon changed once they saw Jacqueline. Billy's expression was filled with adoration for his girl but Max? Considering this was her first time seeing Jacqueline back, she was ecstatic. "Hey girl! Missed you like crazy, last time I saw you, you were a cute crying mess after I gave you that skateboard as a good bye present. You gotta any better?"

"Hells yeah! I could show you sometime." She sounded so excited as she embraced the older girl in a tight hug. Even though Jacqueline was dating the devil that is her stepbrother and to this day she still doesn't know why; she loved Jackie like a second mom. She was always there to protect her from Billy's bullying and Neil's abusive tactics to them both. She was a life saver, a guardian angel if you will.

"Yeah...that's not happening. I don't need you to bother my girl with your bullshit. You already have your loser town-shit friends for that." Billy protested, earning a glare from the brunette as she loudly agreed to hanging out with Max just to fuck with him and with that, they were off.

Billy ended up dropping Jackie off first so she can have a chance to get ready before he picked her up, not even saying anything about the party that was going on across the street from her. He wasn't stupid, he knew it was Harrington, he just choose to not make a big deal out of it until later. So after saying goodbye, he drove off. Practically speeding down the street.

If the party didn't wake up the neighbors, Billy definitely did.

As she stepped foot into her new home, she was greeted by her mother who was trying to make conversation, "I saw you out there with William. He's still adorable as ever, it's good to see you two back together. You looked lost without him, a lost puppy."

Even though everything she was saying was correct, it was still embarrassing to hear. If Billy was here to listen, he wouldn't let her live it down. "Jesus ma, say it louder for the neighbors to hear, why don't ya?" A annoyed Jackie whined.

"I'm just saying, he's a good boy Jacqueline. I knew it when I first saw you two together. You guys look like you were made for each other."

"Alright ma, I'ma go change. Please don't say any of this when he gets here. I don't want him to know his girlfriend was practically a crybaby for months without him okay?"

"Can't promise anything!" Her mom yelled in a cheery tone as Jacqueline made her way upstairs. It was like having a older sister sometimes with that woman. She's so childish at times.

••••

It didn't take that long for Jacqueline to get ready. After stepping out the shower and drying off. The girl slipped into a skin tight red tiger print leather dress that stopped above her knees, ripped fishnet stockings, black leather ankle boots, and a cropped leather black vest. She didn't do much to her hair, she didn't need to nor care to.

That's a huge fucking lie. The girl practically treated her two toned hair like it was her baby, a thing her and billy have in common. They love their hair.

After washing and drying it thoroughly, she curled it a bit more before spraying it down so no strand hairs goes dancing in the night breeze tonight. Her makeup was short but hot. Who doesn't love blood red lips and Smokey black eyes?

That's right no one.

And with all of that together, she looked hot! More than hit actually. Hotter than Billy himself if you want be cocky.

That was a overstatement, but still, she looked amazing.

Just as she turned to grab her necklace that Billy bought for her a few years back, she heard a knock on her window and just like that, their little tradition was back in motion.

Once unlocking the window latch and opening it, she took a step back as a way of inviting him in, watching as her boyfriend climbed his way in.

And to her surprise, his little outfit choice was better than hers, though she wondered who he was he trying to impress tonight other than her.

He was shirtless, having nothing but his leather jacket to cover him, well, some of him. He had on black jeans, matching black boots and black fingerless gloves. Somehow, Billy managed to outdo his girlfriend, for like the millionth time already.

While she was practically undressing him with her eyes, so was he with her; "My god, don't I have the hottest girlfriend in town. You look amazing sweetheart." He smiled widely causing Jackie's heart to jump up to her throat, but knowing her. She liked it when he stroke her ego just a little bit with his compliments and eye fucks. It was always hot to see him get the hots for her. Practically down on his knees if you think about it, so she wanted to keep it going.

"Aww, you think I'm pretty?" She asked softly, running her hand down his bare chest as she looked up at him, batting her eyelashes up at him while he did nothing but stared down at her with more of a darkened look in his eyes.

"You want to hear me say it again? How about I just prove it to you at the party, hm?" He grinned, cupping the girl's ass before lifting her up.

"I'd like that a lot." She grinned back while placing a quick kiss on his lips which he replied with one on his own, his being filled with absolute lust and hunger.

"Shall we go before you try and rip this dress off of me?"

"Who said that won't happen tonight? Who knows, I could just say fuck it and do you on Harrington's bed."

"BILLY!" The girl yelled, slapping his arm playfully before jumping out of his arms because if she stayed, that comment would most likely be a reality within 15 seconds of them being in the party, so without waisting time, she dragged the boy downstairs and outside before her mom could say anything embarrassing and with that, the two walked across the street together.

They barely even got the chance to open the door without getting starstruck with how loud the music was, it triggered excitement for Billy but for her? It just made her anxious. She didn't know how she was going to face Steve and plus party Billy turns into drunk, egotistical Billy quickly and it wasn't a good sight to see sometimes. She already knew tonight was going to be hell once they stepped in.

Before she could open the door, it was swung open by a girl who pushed past them to puke her poor little guts out in the front bushes. You'd think the music would be inviting enough for them, but it was the sight instead. Drunk teens from the living room to the kitchen and backyard, dressed up for Halloween, already high off of drugs or just shit faced drunk. This was the kind of party Billy likes, and sometimes Jackie but who knows? She could end up being the babysitter before even having fun.

They stepped in together with Billy close by behind her but all of that ended quickly before anything even started, once they got surrounded by drunken douchebag teen boys who she assumed to be his friends and just like that, he was dragged away from her to the backyard to do some stupid drinking competition, leaving her by herself.

Typical really. He didn't put up a fight or say anything about him being back soon, he just let the excitement overtake him as they dragged him off. He didn't care about his girl wellbeing or how she's going to handle herself in a party filled with people she doesn't know and he doesn't trust. Negative boyfriend points right now.

All eyes were glued on her, some filled with jealousy by girls who thought she didn't belong here, and others filled with arousal by boys who thought they had a chance to hit that tonight. But yet she ignored it and made her way to the drinking area in the kitchen which was guarded by chubby sweaty boys dressed in togas, it all made her change her mind and escape outside but her mind was changed again once she spotted Steve dancing like a complete dork with nothing but a big handsome smile on his face.

"Great party prince charming." She said loud enough for him to hear through the music as she shyly made her way to him and instead of him ignoring her or making some kind of rude remark, he embraced her in a hug before offering her a drink.

"Glad you could make it princess. You look really beautiful tonight, definitely beating all the girls who tried hard to impress your boyfriend."

"Oh my god! Right? I couldn't help but see the jealous looks from girls who practically didn't have anything on. They all look like twigs with a piece of cloth stuck to them." She joked, earning a laugh from her golden retriever friend.

"Speaking of Hargrove, where is he? I know he wouldn't like us talking." As much as she felt a bit annoyed with him bringing up Billy a little too much in their conversation, she knew he was not far from the truth. Billy would've killed Steve if he was to see this. But who cares, he's ditched her for his stupid friends so fuck what he thinks right now, right?

"Oh, he's in the backyard, currently getting shift faced in whatever drinking game his dumb friends have him doing. Leaving me all by my lonesome." She sighed dramatically, batting her eyelashes up at Steve in a joking matter.

"Well don't worry, you got me tonight to keep you entertained and as a sorry for being a asshole earlier, I got you something." He pulled out a charm bracelet that had all the charms that represented California. Her eyes became glossy as she snatched it from his hands and embraced him in a hug of her own, a bear hug. Well, her version of a bear hug.

It was beautiful, hell, it was fucking gorgeous. And she was forever grateful.

"Thank you Steven, truly. It means a lot to me. "

"No problem. And you don't need to cry over a stupid gift, let's just have fun yeah?" And that they did, while Billy was doing his own thing so was she.

Her and Steve had their own little drinking competition which she beat him in twice, and with all that liquor in her veins, they basically dance half of the night away on the dance floor.

She was wearing Steve's shades as she danced along beside him to whatever played. He was right behind her as she grind up against him with nothing but a drunken smile on their faces.

But not soon after, their fun was interrupted by Billy and his gang of popular jerks rolling in, towards them. Billy was covered in nothing but beer and sweat as he made his way towards them and basically yanked Jacqueline away from Steve by the waist and kissed her sloppily, all while making eye contact with the poor boy who was just getting his faced rubbed in by the news of Billy beating his keg record by his ex friends.

Now of course Jacqueline didn't care, yes she was bothered by Billy's drunken tactics but she didn't expect to see Steve give in. The two were practically giving each other a death stares as if they were about to rip each other's faces off and the people who was paying attention loved it but not Jackie. She stood there with nothing but a stank face and her arms crossed above her chest.

She didn't know rather to pull Billy away or to grab Steve and pull him somewhere so they can continue their fun and before she could make her decision, it was made for her when Billy grabbed her arm tightly and dragged her away, but not without saying something to Steve of course.

"Why don't you go find your bitch instead of trying to make a pass at mines. She doesn't like desperate. But hey, a pretty boy like you can get laid tonight. There's planty of skanks here who's matches your desperality, just gotta find the right one quickly. " And with that said, she was being dragged away like a rag doll to god knows here, watching as Steve just stood there with a hurt expression that quickly got replaced with annoyance and hatred.

Billy could really be a real fucking asshole sometimes.

"What the fuck was that?" Jackie yelled as she was pulled into the bathroom, her arm forming a bruise but she chose to ignore it, nothing could distract her from the burning hot anger she felt for her boyfriend right now.

"What do you ever so mean darlin?" A half drunk Billy questioned with nothing but a big stupid smirk plastered on his face that Jackie wanted so bad to slap off.

"You know what I mean! You was a absolute dick out there and for what? To impress your little boyfriends or to feed your ego because you couldn't stand the fact your girlfriend was having fun with a guy that wasn't you.'

She basically read him like a book in the same harsh tone he gave Steve earlier and it was the worst idea ever because instead of saying anything, he scared her into submission when he punched the wall inches away from her head.

She felt herself not holding back tears but holding her breath as she did nothing but look at the boy with a dumb founded look.

"I don't know who you think you're fucking talking to but you better watch you mouth before I fix it for you. Besides, you have no right to say shit anyway sweetheart. Wasn't you out here grinding against Harrington like a fuckin' slut? What happened? I thought he was the enemy, now you're dick riding?"

"Slut? I'm a slut for fuckin' dancing with a friend? Really? You're over here half fucking naked, doing stupid games to impress your fucking boyfriends and ugly bitches you probably already fucked while I was away in California. Never once have you came to dance with me and we came to this party together! TO-GETHER! Not with your boyfriends, not with the big haired bitches you was with outside, you came here with me! Me, your fucking girlfriend!"

"Oh please Jackie, you're being fuckin' dramatic! I was doing nothing but having fun, why do you have to be on my dick twenty four seven with your non-stop nagging!" His words got louder, dangerously louder but it only got her more pissed off.

"Dramatic!? I'm being dramatic because you ran off to go get drunk and flirt with sluts? I'm being dramatic because I'm fuckin sick of your bullshit and don't know why you're treating me like I'm one of these fuckin whores that's waiting for the opportunity to suck your dick?! And let's not fucking forget nagging! I'm nagging because I'm trying to make you take responsibility for your fuckin actions because you want to jump down my throat for mine? Does Steve got you that hard by the balls that you lost all your common sense and want to start acting different to the only fuckin bitch who knows you and your fuckin skeletons. The old Billy would never fuckin done this shit, no matter how drunk he is or how jealous he got. He...you would of never called me a slut, let alone try to scare me by almost hitting me!"

She yelled back at him, her voice cracking in every word she spoke, her eyes was glossy but she'd be damn to let any tears fall for him right now. She could feel herself reaching a line she wasn't supposed to cross with him but she could also feel herself breaking.

And it was already too late, she felt herself crying and worse part yet, she was still trapped underneath her asshole of a boyfriend who looked finally looked guilty for his actions.

Which was good. He should feel guilty.

"Jackie, you know I didn't mean that right? I'm sorry okay? I just... I had too much to drink and got carried away. You know I would never, ever put my fuckin' hands on you. I'll die before hurting you. You know that, right?" His words came out so soft, it was unavailable that it was even Billy speaking.

It was almost like a whisper and for a second, she thought what he said was genuine but even she couldn't believe him. Not now at least.

"Are you sure about that? Because it looked like you wanted to slap the shit out of me for telling nothing but the truth. Steve is hurting your ego so bad by being with me that you're acting like a fucking bitch. On Halloween of all nights, after being reunited after months away. You know, while you was having fun being the top dog here, I was fucking miserable back at Cali? I can't remember a day I didn't cry because you didn't have time to answer a fuckin call or letters that I spent hours upon days writing."

"Jesus Jackie, this shit again? I don't even know what you're fuckin' talking about. I never got a letter or even a call from you at all!" His words left her shocked, not because he yelled at her, that was normal. But because her letters and calls never even reach him. All this time she was thinking nothing but the worst of him but he was actually out being a good boyfriend.

Doesn't she feel like shit.

About that part of course, Billy was still a fucking dick for what he said and did.

"I'm really am sorry Jackie."

"Prove it, say you love me." The way she had to say that sentence broke her More than anything he said today, it felt embarrassing to have a to beg, let alone tell your boyfriend to say he loves you and prove that he's sorry.

What's even crazy, he actually complied. "I love you. I love you like fuckin crazy." He stated while getting done on his knees, taking her hands in his and kissed them all while staring up at her with the most innocent eyes she ever seen from him before.

"Look, I don't do this shit much and this is the only time you'll see and hear this from me, but I'm doing it now and with a pure as shit heart. I'm on my knees, asking for your forgiveness. I know I was wrong for what I said. And I'm really fucking sorry. You don't have to forgive me tonight or even ever but understand I'm not going to stop until you do. I love you, and that's a lot to say, let alone to admit but I ain't even fully sober so.."

His drunken ramble made her just break into a small fit of laughter. As much as she never seen this kind of jealous Billy, she never seen this side of him either and she had to admit, it was absolutely adorable and attractive.

"Alright fine, I forgive ya Hargrove." She got on her knees as well to level with him better as kissed him on the lips and cheek. "But you owe me a dance and a fucking drink. And, no sex for a week.

Now the last part felt a little too cruel to him but he understood and complied. Not going to lie as harsh as that punishment was for him, he couldn't help but laugh a little bit that he fucked up so bad that it came to that. And he just earned every part of her again not too long ago.

But still, he had to accept it and be respectful. After all, he just got his girl back and he wasn't going to loose her, ever.

"Alright sweetheart."

#fyp #stranger things #netflix #halloween #william hargrove #max hargrove #steve harrington #fanfic #wattpad #original character

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