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#because those kids had people who LOVED them
hermitadaymay · 6 hours
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WELCOME TO HERMIT-A-DAY MAY 2024!
I'm thrilled to bring this challenge to you all for the second year in a row! Hermit-a-Day May is a challenge inspired by Hermitober, but with a twist: instead of theme prompts, we focus on a specific Hermit every day!
THE RULES: 1. Any type of fanwork is welcome so long as it features, or is otherwise inspired by, the Hermit of the day. 2. Tag #hermitaday to have your fanwork reblogged, or submit it directly to the blog (Please note that while I recognize the value of fanworks involving more mature themes, and they can certainly count toward challenge completion if you're keeping track for yourself, content on this blog will be kept "PG-13" so that all may enjoy.). 3. Fanworks for one Hermit posted after the day rolls over to another Hermit's day (per the US Central time zone) will be reblogged in a big queue in June. 4. I am not interested in seeing captions or tags in which you disparage your art/skills. We're all improving all the time. Be kind to yourselves.
WHY SHOULD I PARTICIPATE? To show love to every Hermit, from the most to least subscribed, from those who have been on the server from day one to those who only joined this season! And because challenges are fun! And because, this year, there's an extra dimension to the event: a fundraiser for Gamers Outreach, featuring art incentives by @rendiggitydog and @belmarzi.
GRAND TOTAL INCENTIVE: For every $150 we raise for Gamers Outreach, belmarzi will make 10 seconds' worth of animatic, featuring as many Hermits as she can fit into the time frame.
INDIVIDUAL DONATION INCENTIVE: For every $65 you personally donate to the fundraiser during the month of May, Rae rendiggitydog will draw you a shaded flats commission of a Hermit of your choice.
WHO’S RUNNING THIS? Hi! My name is Luna! You can use she/her, he/him, ze/hir, or ro/ros/roseself pronouns for me. My main blog is @as-if-unreal. Yep, before you ask, it really is just me, but to be fair I've had a lot of help.
BONUS SUNDAY PROMPTS EXPLAINED UNDER THE CUT
TFC - May 5th While he may no longer be with us physically, TFC left behind him a legacy of quiet care and good humor, and Hermitcraft would not have been the same without him.
FRIENDS OF HERMITCRAFT - May 12th There are plenty of shows, podcasts, competitions, other servers, and more woven into the internet ecosystem around Hermitcraft, and plenty more people involved in them: just as a small number of examples, Season 9's Rift opened up to a whole server of Emperor friends, and there are always allies to be made in MCC and enemies to be made in the Life Series. Today is for celebrating all of those who, while they may not be Hermits themselves, exist and entertain in proximity to them.
FAVORITE "ALT" HERMIT - May 19th HoTGuY and Poultry-Man. Helsknight and Evil Xisuma. Renbob and - look, you get the idea. This server is full of theater kids ready to toss on an alternate skin and play into a brand new character at the drop of a hat. Who's your favorite?
GROUPS AND COLLABS - May 26th This month is all about one Hermit a day... but what we really love is when they interact with each other. What does your favorite duo or group of Hermits get up to together?
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1d1195 · 3 days
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Ding - Round 2
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Read Ding here | ~6.2 k words
WARNING/spoiler there's a scummy guy in this part that tries to be forceful with our MC to go with him back to his place when she doesn't want to. Nothing will happen and nothing will be described in detail but be kind to your mind and heart ♥, trauma, anxiety, pining, and fluff.
From me: I actually know VERY little about boxing and even less about throwing a punch. I do however feel I'm well-versed in sprinkles so do with that what you will. Some parts of this got a little away from me again. I hope you like it 💕
Summary: Harry and Cupcake are both really busy and haven't seen each other in two months. But when Cupcake gets into trouble, she has no choice but to run into Harry.
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Harry learned to fight when he was ten years old. He didn’t have his dad around much to teach him. Mum and Gemma may as well have been pacifists and as such, they weren’t much help when it came to defending himself. Harry watched his little girl friends get teased by boys. The same boys that told him he was weird for liking girls when they had cooties. Even if he didn’t (always) like them like that and was just merely defending them. Mum and Gemma may have been pacifists, but they taught Harry to be a respectful young boy. Especially toward girls.
One too many mouthfuls of sand at recess was enough to make him finally do something about it. He was angry. Angry because the girls didn’t like him because he was a boy (although they tolerated him since he was protecting them). Angry none of the boys in his class wanted to be friends with him because he was being nice to girls filled with cooties. Angry that he didn’t have a dad to teach him how to be a boy’s boy.
For a ten-year-old, he was really angry.
Mum took him to a gym—an introductory class to kickboxing. Just to get some of his anger out in an appropriate manner (and so he wouldn’t be sent to the principal’s office during recess again). Harry took a liking to the punching bag. He cried the first time he used it with the help of an older kid who was helping him learn to punch the right way. The poor teen watching him get so frustrated that his punches and kicks weren’t landing right—even though it was his very first time throwing a punch—saw something in him. Alerted his boss, encouraged Harry, worked with Harry every time he came in. He was a great mentor and even though he left only a couple years after meeting Harry to go to university and all that, Harry was forever grateful.
His first amateur match was at fifteen. Then there were only ten rounds at most, and he won by a landslide in five. By then he met Louis—someone who saw the same thing that teen kid saw in him and offered to be his manager. It wasn’t anything serious at the time. Harry was still in school and only using his time after school to get better at boxing. Louis was only a few years ahead but knew enough to help him be great.
By the time he turned eighteen, he had won three state-titles and people were watching him. At least in a way that those who cared about boxing did. Throughout university he trained and got better and won more and more.
Now Harry was twenty-five. He had to be nearing at least a hundred thousand punches since he was ten—eitherthrowing them at someone or at least in training against the punching bag he loved so much. Maybe more. He couldn’t even begin to think or count how he would figure out that number. Harry’s whole life was training, working, and fighting.
The only joys he had outside of boxing were his car and the sweet little niece that Gemma had kindly brought into his life—but that was only a recent change.
Only one other very recent change had left him a bit tongue-tied and flustered. Harry didn’t get flustered. Not since he was ten and knew he could beat the crap out of someone. There was no ringing bell to prepare him to make eye contact with a complete stranger and just feel like he had never ever felt before.
Was it love? Who could say, really. Harry had never loved anyone in his life that wasn’t his family or his friends. It made his stomach flutter like the first time he fought in a ring for something other than a trophy. A mere two hundred dollars on the line, all to get punched a whole bunch of times. Now he was still getting punched a few times over for a decent amount of money, but the thought of that pretty girl and her sprinkles made him unbelievably excited. Knowing she was there really made him feel different.
He knew next to nothing about her, but he was certain he was going to fall for her given half a chance. Even if she gave him a half a chance—a quarter!—he would do everything he could to have her in his life. If anyone else had damaged his car, he might have lost his shit, but there was something about her kind face, her doe-eyed expression in the rainy lamplight that made him rethink his entire life in the span of twenty seconds.
But whatever it was that he felt for her, he knew it started with her ringside. Beside his best friend waiting for the end of the fight that never seemed to end.
Normally, Harry’s matches finished in an average of nine rounds. But he was seated in the corner, sipping water like a hamster from the bottle, while Louis put Vaseline on his face where the cut on his eyebrow split between the tenth and the eleventh. “How you doing?”
“Is she impressed?” He asked.
“Who?”
“Cupcake. She’s sitting next t’Niall,” he was breathing heavy. Good as he was, it took a lot of energy to punch someone for a half hour as it was.
“Who?” Louis repeated, then thought better of it. He shook his head in frustration. “Can you focus on what you’re doing, Harold?!”
Louis didn’t get it. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. To be fair, she was probably the reason it was taking longer than normal. Not that he minded. As long as she was impressed by the end, of course. Harry was on his feet, shadowboxing briefly with Louis, that boyish smile on his face. “What the fuck is your issue?” Louis hissed at him. “You’re acting like a lunatic!”
It seemed like a cliché to say he was in love, so he refrained from doing so. He felt it spared Louis further frustration as well. Cupcake, Cupcake, Cupcake. It was the only thing his brain could think. Fortunately, the bell rang, signaling the beginning of the next round and knocked a bit of the sense back in his head that had floated away from him on the thoughts of the pretty girl nearby.
His opponent was just as tired (although Harry believed his opponent was more so) as himself. He could see the exhaustion setting in as he held his gloves up near his face blocking a few jabs Harry threw to get the excitement of the new round going. He was waiting, searching, nearly taunting for a window of opportunity. Right as his opponent swung aiming for his face, Harry dodged his punch; smirking as he did. A blinding weak spot, his guard was down for only a fraction of a second but that was all Harry needed.
Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.
Ding.
*
Harry looked like he was going to fall asleep sitting there in the bakery kitchen. He was a bit cut up; his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and his cheekbone had little cuts. Soothed with Vaseline, but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eyes were droopy. “Is Niall still around to drive you home?” She asked.
He shook his head. “I can drive,” he murmured.
He wasn’t really looking at her, but her look and tone screamed skeptical. “You look too tired to drive.”
“Mm,” he hummed. She was busy bustling back and forth through the kitchen. Cupcakes were in the oven. She only made a dozen, but Harry didn’t seem to notice it was a small amount. He was sitting at the big table in the middle of the kitchen. A seat dragged in from the office. She had her laptop open in her office running the report she needed while Harry held his head propped in one hand. She busied herself with prepping dough for scones and pastries while Harry tried not to loll off to sleep. She smirked at him.
“I could call you an Uber if you wanted,” she offered. “You don’t need to stay with me.”
His eyes were hardly open. “I’ll get a second wind in a minute,” he yawned. “S’jus’ the adrenaline wearing off,” he explained.
“Does that hurt?” She asked gesturing to the cuts on his (otherwise really perfect) face.
He shook his head. “Stings a little.”
“Will you be sore tomorrow?”
“A little. Stiff really... Why y’want t’give me a massage, kitten?” He smiled flirtatiously. Maybe she should have felt uncomfortable, alone with a man she only just met. But honestly, she thought Niall might be her new best friend and if Niall could vouch for Harry, then she wasn’t all that worried about him. Regardless of him knocking out his opponent with one punch. Truthfully, it was nice of her to walk her to the bakery. It was later than she expected and while the town they lived in was pretty safe, the college safety tips of never walking alone flooded her mind each time she did walk alone. She blushed at his forward assumption, but fortunately she was prepping something and stuffing it in the fridge, so he didn’t get to see. Plus, his exhaustion probably made him even flirtier.
“Thanks for being m’good luck charm, Cupcake,” he murmured sleepily.
“I didn’t know you didn’t need one.”
“Can never have too much luck.”
She smiled, continuing her prepping quietly. Harry watched her for a while. Eventually, his arm dropped to the table, and he rested his head on it. After another moment, a soft snore escaped his lips, and she smiled a little brighter. Only for herself, really, since Harry was asleep. She continued working. She was used to late nights. Maybe he really was going to get a second wind—honestly, she couldn’t imagine boxing and punching someone for almost forty-five minutes with only one-minute breaks in between rounds. Sometimes while she was baking, she would try to do other tasks while the timer counted down to take the treats out of the oven. It always surprised her how long and how short a minute could feel in the same breath.
But while she worked, she was mindful to not make too many loud noises. Harry needed sleep it seemed. She prepped for nearly an hour while waiting for the cupcakes to cool long enough to scoop out the middle and fed the sugary raspberry filling into the empty space. Frosting a dozen cupcakes took all but ten minutes then she packaged them in two half-dozen plastic containers with A Pinch of Sprinkles label taping it shut. Gently, she put her hand on his upper arm, and she really shouldn’t have been so surprised by how taut his bicep was beneath her hand, but she was. He was unbelievably strong, and she was in slight awe and shock of touching him—and he wasn’t even flexing. But rather than be creepy, she gave him a gentle shake. “Hey, Harry... Uh...it’s late. I’m gonna get going,” her voice was soft.
Harry startled almost jumping out of his seat and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “Sorry, sorry. Wow,” he turned his neck to the left and then right. “M’sorry I dozed off there.”
She shrugged. “Probably needed it,” she assured him with a gentle smile. She pushed the dozen cupcakes forward, across the table. “For you.”
He blinked then looked up at her. “Did you make these for—”
“Well, yes, I made them. You were unbelievably kind to me even though I dented Clay. Plus, you won so it’s like a job well done, you know?”
“You made me cupcakes,” he repeated, his gaze unmoving from her face.
“We really need to work out this whole repeating what the other one says thing,” she felt her cheeks warm as he stared at her, but she smiled, only feeling slightly awkward.
He turned his attention to the two plastic boxes and tilted his head at them. They were identical. His fascination with her precision was immense. “What kind are they?”
“The raspberry filled ones. You said you liked them.”
His gaze went right back to her, and he felt hungry, but not for cupcakes.
Well, at least not the baked good kind of cupcake.
“Thank you, Cupcake. That was sweet of you. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
Her smile seemed to transcend to a feeling of relief. “Not even a little...um... I just have to grab a couple things. Would you... mind walking me to my car? Unless you need to leave right now. I know it’s crazy late. I’ll be okay. I walk to my car on my own usually but it’s always a little creepy. But I feel bad I made you—”
“’Course m’gonna walk you t’your car,” he rolled his eyes. “Besides I don’t want you t’ding Clay again,” he winked to ensure she knew he was kidding. Because yes, he loved his car.
But rapidly, when it came to her, the car didn’t matter in the slightest.
*
She hadn’t seen Harry in two months.
It wasn’t like she was avoiding him. Part of her knew he was a mere social media friend request away. In fact, she was trying her hardest to not stare at the pictures of him on social media, the PR plug for his matches, and all the things that she saw Niall, Louis, and all his other friends shared. But she didn’t want to come off too forward. It seemed weird to be so into a man she only talked to for no longer than ten minutes total.
Besides...she had her routines. Work, family, and more work.
Also, if Harry was really infatuated with her the way Niall alluded to, he knew where her bakery was—he easily could come and find her here. But she did notice there was a tag to her shop on Instagram with raspberry filled cupcakes in the picture. (All it would take is for her to press the Follow button and wait.) While she didn’t know Harry all that well, she assumed he was probably just as busy. Her brief cyber-stalking showed that Harry was often at the gym—although she wasn’t sure which one. He was also an amazing uncle. That much was clear. It warmed her heart, and she would never want to tear Harry away from that kind of time. Family was extremely important to her. She wholeheartedly understood how much his free time was probably monopolized by the little baby.
But it was so strange that she didn’t know him yet there was some part of her that wanted to see him. It was bizarre. She never got all up and arms about a guy. There was work and there was her family. That was it. That was all she could afford to balance. She didn’t need a guy to mess with her routines or upset the balance of her life.
However, every time she walked alone to her car at night now, she wished that Harry was with her to assure her safety—even though she had done it hundreds of times before. The night they met, he walked her in silence, opened her door and made sure she was safely tucked inside. “Good night, Cupcake,” he smiled almost dreamily.
“Good night, Harry. Congratulations,” she responded with a smile too.
Harry’s smile grew and he looked away briefly before patted the top of her car and turned to Clay, put his cupcakes on the passenger seat and moved to the driver’s side. He gave her a wave and pulled out of his parking spot.
It was two months ago.
But after just one month, it was hard to deny she didn’t miss him.
That had to mean something. Just one brief night—not even a date. Most of that night was spent with Harry in the ring or asleep at her kitchen table. Hell, she got to know Niall more that night. But it was Harry’s smile that plagued her thought—crooked and perfect. The way his eyes glittered as he convinced her to follow him with a picture of his niece.
“Are you baking something in here or burning in here?” Maeve asked.
Maeve was her best employee—her right hand nearly every day. More importantly, her best friend. Shaking her head of the thoughts surrounding Harry, she sighed and turned to the oven where her fudge brownies were surely overdone. “Shit,” she whispered.
“I don’t think you’ve ever burned anything. Are you okay?” Maeve asked gently. It was a loaded question. It took a lot of time to dig the answer out of her friend, but Maeve did. She knew asking if she was okay was probably the wrong thing to say.
But if it was, she didn’t mind. Of course she didn’t. Her very best friend was sweeter than all the treats in the display case. “Just a little distracted,” she mumbled grabbing the tray and setting it in the sink to cool off (and hopefully so she didn’t have to scrape the bottom of the tray later).
“Harry on your brain?” Maeve giggled.
She rolled her eyes but felt the way her cheeks warmed at Maeve’s (correct) assumption. Maeve was shocked to learn that her strong-willed friend was convinced by a stranger to go see a boxing match. She couldn’t believe it. Granted, once she saw the picture of Harry, she couldn’t disagree. I think I would let him punch me in the face if he wanted to.
She decided keeping Maeve as far away from Harry as possible was probably necessary.
Rarely did she and Maeve work together. As her best employee and best friend, it was like asking her to hold her child when Maeve was on shift. There was no one she trusted more. So, when Maeve wasn’t there, she often was and vice versa. But every so often, usually at the shift change, Maeve got to see her best friend in her element. “Well, the good news is, you can go think of him at home,” she winked at her.
She didn’t even look at her. “You’re disgusting,” she deadpanned.
Maeve snorted. “That’s not even what I was insinuating. Your mind went directly to the gutter. Good for you. I bet he thinks about you while he’s doing it too.”
“Jesus Christ,” she was blushing brightly now. “I just want to fix the display case and then I’ll go.”
“Any fun plans for tonight?”
She hesitated briefly. “Uh yeah...actually. I have a date,” she mumbled.
“Oh!” It was silent for a long beat. Rarely did she go on dates. There were only a few since she moved into town three years ago. Mostly because the bakery took up so much of her free time. The remaining bit of time she had and didn’t go on dates was because of the guilt she felt. Maeve’s surprise was palpable. It made her cheeks turn pink and she bit the inside of her cheek. “Good,” Maeve smiled encouragingly. “Online?” She asked.
She nodded. “We’ve been messaging back and forth for like...” she shrugged. “Two weeks.”
“Are you excited?”
No. “Yes,” she sighed softly. “Been a while,” she smirked. There was a huge part of her brain that told her she didn’t want to go because it wasn’t Harry. It was like a neon sign had been posted in her frontal lobe reminding her that it was pointless to even consider this date. She should have just requested to follow Harry and be done with it—he would probably drop everything if she asked him on a date. “Just...nervous.”
“It’ll be good!” Maeve said reassuringly. “Share your location with me and text me when you get to where you’re sleeping,” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“I will be sleeping at home,” she promised snorting through her laugh at her best friend.
Maeve smiled heading to the front and leaving her to finish with her burned brownies.
*
The front of the bakery was dark in color; she was aiming for warmth. The floors and baseboards were dark walnut brown. It contrasted sharply with the wall she wall-papered by hand with a white and brown marble pattern behind the display cases. It made the black chalkboard menus with the same walnut brown frames stand out. The lights were always set to dim when they were on. Her goal was to recreate the feeling of her childhood home—particularly the den where her father set up the most beautiful Christmases. The bakery lacked a fireplace (she joked with Maeve that it was an oven or a fireplace, and the oven did a better job at cooking croissants evenly).
The front of the bakery wasn’t massive. There were five little tables to sit and enjoy their treats if people wanted but it was really a grab and go kind of place. The back had more treats stored so the main room didn’t look overwhelming. The front display cases still contained more treats than anyone could think of eating. I wish I could buy one of everything was heard frequently from the line. Eventually she wanted to invest in coffee but for the time being she liked just her treats and was happy to recommend the coffee place down the road. If she ever got a hold of more space, then she would consider buying all the machines for coffee.
The bakery was honestly warmest when it was rainy. Which was frequent. She was reorganizing the main cupcake display, a tower of three tiers with one of each type of cupcake she made. The raspberry filled cupcake was the one that had been on top for the last two months. Each time it was bought, she replaced it with another. While people raved about her brownies, cakes, and even the croissants, it was the cupcakes that people came for; and so, she took care of the display as much as possible.
“Which one do you recommend?” She turned to the voice and saw a mom and little girl waiting patiently. She smiled fondly.
“Raspberry filled,” she pulled it from the top tier and handed it over. “Try it,” she offered.
“Oh, we don’t want to get you in trouble,” the mom said quickly while her daughter grabbed for it almost immediately.
She laughed. “Don’t worry, I know the owner,” she promised. “Maeve! I’m leaving!” She called but was delighted by the little girl’s approval. Silence, cake and filling on her cheeks immediately, and a delightful look in her eye.
“Have fun!” She called back.
“Enjoy the cupcakes. I also like the lemon vanilla ones.”
“I think raspberry filled is the winner,” the mom smiled.
She nodded, unable to keep herself from grinning back. “A fan favorite.”
*
She should have stayed home. The bad weather should have been an omen. But maybe it wouldn’t have been because she met Harry in bad weather, and everything was fine that night. It soured her mood and made her feel infinitely worse to think about the comparison.
I’m home. Not a great date. I’ll tell you later. She wished she had gone to Maeve’s. Maybe she would have doted on her. But she didn’t want to fall apart the way she planned on in front of her.
:( sorry babe. Sleep tight. Talk to you tomorrow :(
She locked her apartment door and checked at least fifty times that it was truly locked before she moved to her bathroom. Her heart was still in her throat and her eyes felt raw with tears. Maybe she was overreacting.
No.
The rational part of her brain reasoned against her handwaving casualness. She had good instincts. Obviously. If this same situation happened with Harry, then maybe she would have considered it her own poor judgment. It was more reason that someone as terrifying as Harry could have be sweet as her cupcakes that it was her good judgment that helped her get out of there tonight.
She hurried to get out of her clothes. Part of her considered throwing them away. She didn’t want them any longer. She wasn’t sure she would ever wear them again. She turned the shower on as hot as she could stand it and pushed it a little further.
He didn’t hurt her physically. He tried. It was obvious his intent was to force her into the car... or worse. Which was disgusting in its own right. Until that moment in the dark, rainy parking lot, it was almost identical to her moment with Harry. But it wasn’t. Harry didn’t make her feel unsafe. Harry didn’t make her feel threatened. Harry gave her an out even though he wanted to hang out with her. She knew she could leave at any moment and Harry wouldn’t have blamed her.
She rubbed her arm so hard with her loofa in the shower stream it burned for a new reason. Tears blurred her vision and she felt so stupid. So completely idiotic. How could she let it get that far? That was so dangerous. So close she could have been hurt in so many ways that she didn’t want to think about, ever again. She closed her eyes and let the water wash the night away, feeling completely alone and dreadful.
She never wanted to date again.
*
She finished her shower, sniffles plaguing her, and she got into her comfiest pajamas. Her heart was still beating too fast as she crawled under the covers. She felt so ashamed. It felt like her fault. All of it.
There was a tiny rattling in her brain that Harry could have prevented it all. She should have just requested Harry on social media when she met him. If she had, she would have had his number by then. He would have helped her for sure.
Without thinking, she scrolled on her apps, and clicked on the various follow buttons. Every platform she could think of to request his social media friendship—looking like a lunatic be damned. Almost everything had a phone call button now, she could use it as backup if she needed. For good measure she requested Niall too. It was nearing midnight, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was scared. Nervous. Heartbroken.
Yet, within moments, Harry returned the request along with a direct message in her inbox.
Thinking of me at midnight, hmm?  😉
She snorted despite her uneasiness. One sentence and she melted. But she couldn’t let him know that. 🙄 it was nice while it lasted. Just going to unfollow you...
Aw, c’mon Cupcake 🙁
Oh alright... No, not really... just can’t sleep. Popped up on my people you may know while scrolling. It wasn’t a complete lie, and she was glad she wasn’t having a phone call. He would have heard her sniffles and then she wasn’t sure she would have been able to stop herself from inviting a total stranger over. Right now, she didn’t trust her judgment fully.
Been dying to press that Follow button, Cupcake. Didn’t want to come on too strong after that first night.
She couldn’t help but smile. The contrast between the night she met Harry, and her present night made her sad but relieved at the same time. I see you enjoyed the cupcakes.
Louis made me run laps for two hours because of you. I ate all twelve in less than 72 hours. Do you put drugs in those? They’re addicting.
Lol, no drugs. Well... sugar. So, pick your poison I guess, right? 😇
Well, thank you, Cupcake. That was delicious. I hope you liked the match too. We didn’t get to talk much. I know I fell asleep 🤦‍♂️ I was really happy you were there.
Her heart felt so warm already. Despite how much she didn’t want it to. Thank you for inviting me. Because she was nothing if not polite. It was really exciting! I don’t know much about boxing. But it’s obvious you’re very good—not that you need me to tell you that. Were you really going to make me look like an idiot and not tell me you were undefeated?
You’ll make me blush, Cupcake. Didn’t think you’d come with me if you knew.
Sneaky... 👀
Just... wanted you there, kitten. I promise. Nothing more... I know I came off a little too strong and I know I was a little...pushy. I would have let you go to your store if you really wanted to... But...
The three dots on his message disappeared and reappeared a few times over.It was cute to imagine him holding his phone thinking about what to type, erasing it, typing it again.
I can’t explain it, Cupcake. I’ve been going CRAZY these last two months. Niall’s calling me a stalker and I haven’t even SEEN you. The sentiment doesn’t give her any bad feelings. Because despite how much she wanted to be guarded, especially after her evening, she couldn’t help but believe him. Trust him, implicitly.
I swear something in the universe pulled me to you... I woke up just in time to see you blowing up my phone tonight 😍😍
She snorted and felt her body warm with his kindness, his gentle adoration through her phone no less. You’re insane, Harry Styles.
About you 😍
Oh my God... Now she really was blushing, but she couldn’t help but notice she felt so much better chatting with him. Well... we can talk tomorrow if you want.
Oh?
I’m assuming you’re tired and I’ve already hogged more than enough of your time at midnight, as you pointed out.
Oh, no.
No way, Cupcake. I’ll stay up all night to talk with you ❤
Her heart felt so heavy. It was unfair. How could she be so stupid? Her dad would have killed her for being so naïve. It was his worst fear while she was growing up. It was everything he always talked her through when she was going through puberty and telling her about boys teasing her. Her dad reminded her constantly that a man has no right to make her feel scared or fragile.
But she could feel his grip on her arm trying to coerce her back into his car. She shook her head of the thoughts, refusing to let him poison any more of her time than he had. She was talking to Harry. She was okay. It was alright. It didn’t happen. She got in an Uber, and she’ll never see him again.
Harry was talking to her. Harry made her feel safe. Harry didn’t make her stomach unsettled with a bad gut feeling. Here’s my phone number if you want it.
Within moments, she had a new text message alert. This is better than an undefeated record 😍
*
The following morning, she felt less terrible about herself and her stupidity, but she never wanted to feel that way again. She was also so tired from texting with Harry for hours. It was nearly three in the morning catching up on all the things he did in the past two months before she wished him a good night. There wasn’t much to report about their lives. They both seemed to be workaholics, but he did offer her some really cute baby pictures of his niece (and a pretty cute picture of Niall falling asleep on Harry’s couch after an intense workout).
While she sipped her coffee—staving off the sleepiness, she Googled self-defense classes. Her dad would have approved. He wanted her to do it back when she was in college, but she refused for whatever reason. She regretted that too.
It was telling that she debated whether she was overreacting for several minutes. If she was overreacting, she would have brushed off the idea of self-defense classes like she did in college. But this wasn’t something to overreact about, right? Before she could overthink it any longer, she paid for the class. Honestly, in that parking lot she was smart to do this. Worst case scenario, for one reason or another, it was the smart decision.
She cycled through the next stage of grief feeling angry and bitter that he made her feel this way. She was incredibly lucky it was raining and slippery and she managed to get away from him in the chilly spring air. He left her so rattled. She was defenseless, so a class was needed.
God, she missed her dad.
Fuck, she missed Harry.
She never wanted to feel that helpless again.
With the class paid for, she put an apron around her waist and headed to the front of A Pinch of Sprinkles and turned the closed sign to open.
*
The following Monday, after a full day of flour, sugar, and plenty of customers, she headed to the gym.
It felt awkward. She hadn’t been to a gym since her college days, and she was already frustrated from her horrific night out. She and Maeve told each other they would go together but they were terrible influences on one another and opted for shopping trips with the promise they would pretend their shopping bags were dumbbells.
When she arrived, she headed to the front desk and introduced herself. She even admitted she felt awkward and the woman behind the desk smiled encouragingly. “I’m Sarah. Let me show you around,” she came from behind the desk and headed toward the side room. “It’s safe here,” she assured her, like she knew. The assurance made her throat tight with emotion and she nodded stoically. “This is the locker room; you can change in here and you can leave your stuff locked up or in the front cubbies and I can watch it. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” she smiled kindly and glanced her up and down briefly. “Do you own that bakery downtown?”
She smiled and nodded, looking at the flour handprint on the thigh of her pants. “Thought I got all the flour off,” she brushed at it with a chuckle. “Yes, I do.”
“My husband is going to think I met a celebrity today,” she laughed. “We love your blueberry scones. They taste like heaven.”
“Aw, thank you so much, that’s so kind. I’ll bring some next time,” she promised.
“Oh stop, I’ll divorce him,” she laughed and headed back for the front desk.
She quickly changed, feeling safe and relieved once more. She brought her belongings to the front and sat in one of the seats across from Sarah’s desk. “Kickboxing is just wrapping up and your instructors will be right over,” there was a group of several other women milling about. Obviously, they at least knew how to be in a gym by themselves. A few came as a small group. Maybe she should have brought Maeve.
While waiting, she scrolled through emails from her landlord, her college alma mater group, and all the coupons she had ever subscribed to. “I have got to unsubscribe,” she murmured to herself. She scrolled through photos of the beautiful little area she lived in now, and as sad as it was to get here, it was nice. Her shop was nice. Despite how scared she was over the weekend, things were good.
The only thing that wasn’t nice was that stupid, awful man.
“Holy shit, he’s hot,” she heard someone whisper. It was peripheral. She didn’t even register it really because she was sending Maeve a picture of the sale that was happening at their favorite clothing store on Thursday. If she paid attention, she might have noticed sooner.
“Ladies, self-defense class, this way please!” The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Maeve sent about ten heart eyes to her, and she smiled, stuffed her phone in her bag, and waved to Sarah.
“Blueberry scones,” she repeated with a firm nod and followed the line of women. She sipped from her water taking in the banners around the gym and realized too late why Louis’ voice sounded so familiar.
He stood at the front of the room, along with another familiar face.
“Oh shit,” she whispered to herself and turned immediately back toward the desk.
She bumped into another woman who steadied her and kindly looked her over. “Sorry—are you alright?” she was nearly motherly in her demeanor and her head felt woozy. She couldn’t do this. Harry would know.
Why was Harry attending her self-defense class?
“Yes, yes, sorry,” she shook her head. “Wrong—”
“Hey,” Harry’s voice was right there. She stepped out of the room trying to get more air to her lungs and head.He wasn’t attending. He was teaching. This was his gym. The boxing rings in the main room should have been a clue. The sound of Louis’ voice. Oh, you stupid idiot, her brain scolded.
“Cupcake?” Her head responded to the nickname instinctively. Harry’s suspicious green eyes gazed back at her. “What are you doing here?”
--
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mermaidgirl30 · 3 days
Text
✨Can You Please Be Mine? Part 2: Slip Into Me✨
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Series Masterlist
A/N: I’m so so excited to share this little piece I’ve been writing! I really love this story, the chemistry Joel and reader have, and how flirty and fun this chapter ended up being. I want to hear all your thoughts on this one 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, I want to converse with you guys 🩷
Chapter Summary: Joel takes you on a date to the fair
Word Count: 11.2k (I had a lot to say! I couldn’t stop writing their cute little love story unfolding)
Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)
Pairing: Joel x fem! reader
Chapter Tags: So much flirting, teasing, Joel takes reader on a date to the fair, kissing, chemistry, more flirting, holding hands, heavy making out, grinding on Joel’s lap, switching POV, reader has hair and is tan, allusions to smut, cute nicknames
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
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Joel Miller is a complete mess the rest of the day at the fair. He can’t think straight, not with the way the folded piece of paper is scorching his fingertips that sit in the pit of his pocket, calling out to him like a damn temptress that purrs his name to slip the digits into his phone.
He bites the inside of his cheek, furrowing his eyebrows every single time he thinks of those fucking long, tan legs. Those gorgeous eyes that seem to burn holes in the back of his eyes, and those short denim shorts that he wants so badly to rip off your thick thighs that scream his name. He thinks you’d look so fucking perfect completely naked, splayed across the soft sheets of his bed. Long, tan legs, the perfect curves, probably glistening with sticky slick waiting for him to lick clean. Fuck.
   He can’t help the way he scans his eyes over the thick crowd of people that floods the fair, hoping he’ll snag a peek of your sweet smile that he wants so badly to sink his lips against. He thinks you’d taste so good, maybe cherry flavored lip gloss, a soft tongue that he’ll let lap against his own, sucking him dry as you take the soul right out of him. He thinks he wants to take you on a date so he can see that pretty face, that soft, flirtatious enigma he wants to twist his mind around as he wraps you completely around his index finger. He has to have you, he just has to. 
   He should be enjoying the fair with his daughter, should be paying attention to her as she picks at the stack of French fries he just bought her as she rambles on about upcoming volleyball summer camp and her friend’s pool party, but he can’t. He just can’t. His mind is focused solely on you. The prettiest flower in the crowd he ever did see. And you’d be his. At least he hoped. 
   “Dad?”
   The word comes out in a fog, he almost misses it as he mindlessly searches through the bustling crowd. He needs to see your face, that gorgeous, radiant, perfect…
   “Dad, are you even listening to me?” Sarah asks as she chews on the end of a golden French fry and stares up at her distracted father. 
   “Hmm? Oh yeah, kid. I heard ya,” he murmurs as his brown eyes become focused on his daughter as her long curls blow gently through the hot Texas breeze. 
   “You just seem a little distracted is all,” she mumbles as she rolls her eyes and finishes off the French fry in her hand. 
   Joel rakes a hand through his dark scruff and sighs in frustration. “I’m fine, Sarah. Ain’t distracted ‘bout nothin’,” he huffs. But he knows it’s a lie, a damn good lie. Because he is distracted. Distracted by the beautiful girl with the vanilla ice cream cone that teased him till he about came completely undone in line. He was in for the ride of his life. 
   After he gets home that night, he stares hard at the creased piece of paper as he reads your name over and over and over again. He memorizes it, studies the jumble of numbers until he can repeat them with his eyes closed. He grips the paper so tight that he thinks he’ll tear it in half, his mind caving in just like that of a mad man who’s lovesick from a stupid crush.
   He finally comes to his senses and pulls his phone out of his pocket as he types out your name and number into his contacts list. After pressing save, he stares at the screen, his eyes burning into your name as he hovers over the call button. His mind starts racing a million miles an hour as his eyes go cross eyed from looking so hard at your name on the screen. 
   What if you don’t answer? What if you’re not really interested? What if it was all a game as a way to tease him? Surely not. No. Not with the way you were looking at him, your eyes burning into his like sparkling fireworks as you smirked his way, lapping up ice cream as you teased your tongue around the cold edges as he nearly collapsed to the ground. You were a feisty little firecracker, and he knew it. He wanted to taste those sparks, see just how far he could push you. 
   Without waiting another minute, he presses the call button as sweat pools on his forehead, tousled curls sticking to his tanned skin as he paces mindlessly in his room just waiting for you to answer. He’s about to give up after five repeated rings until he hears you pick up the phone on the next ring. 
   “Hello?”
   His eyes go wide as his pupils expand, fingers digging deep into the denim of his jean pockets as his throat runs dry. That voice. That melodious, sweet lilt of your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. 
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   You hear some rustling on the end of the line and then finally a voice comes through the end of the speaker. “Ummm, hi.”
   A deep, baritone voice seeps through the phone. Slow, a slurred Southern drawl, charming, and so sexy. It makes you gulp down nerves as slick automatically pools in your lace. It’s him. The man you couldn’t keep your eyes off at the fair. He called. 
   “Is this… ahh. You’re the one from the fair, aren’t you?” you ask smiling, a stupid grin spreading wide across your face as you bite your lower lip, your free hand gripping the pink sheets tightly as you grasp anything that’ll stop the excitement from taking you on a ride. 
   “Mhm. How’d you guess?” he asks as you hear a deep chuckle come alive on the other end of the phone. 
   God his laugh sounds like complete music to your ears. A bravado sound you could put on repeat like a favorite song you’d never get tired of. You already had it bad. 
   “Oh, I don’t know. A number I didn’t know and no text? Funny. Why didn’t you just text me? Most people just text nowadays,” you laugh as you tease him through the phone. 
   Another deep chuckle and his smooth voice is carrying through the line. “Guess I’m jus’ old fashioned, darlin’. Maybe I jus’ wanted to hear what you sounded like. Kinda like this better than a text.”
   “Oh, I see,” you blush as you curl your fingers through the pink silk, feet pressing against one another as you repeat the word he just called you over the phone. Darlin’. You loved the sound of that. 
   “So, what’s your name, cowboy?” you giggle as you feel heat course through your chest. 
   “Cowboy, huh? That my new nickname or somethin’?” he asks with a laugh as you hear that sweet Southern drawl drag through the phone. Oh, this one already has you on a tight string, and you’re ready to never let go. 
   “Mmm, it fits you well, I think,” you giggle as you twirl a piece of hair around your finger nervously. 
   “Whatever you say, darlin’,” he laughs as you imagine him raking a hand through those gorgeous curls of his. Something you want to do. You bet it’s so soft, lush, velvet-like…
   “Joel,” he says through the phone, bringing you out of your lovesick daydream of running your fingers through his soft hair. 
   “Hmm?” you ask confused, your mind focusing back on that deep baritone voice that you just can’t get enough of. 
   “The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.”
   “Joel Miller…” you repeat, your smile widening on your face as you stare up at the ceiling filled with hanging fairy lights that make the room sparkle. 
   “That’s right, darlin’.”
   “I like it,” you answer as you twist in the sheets, your soft skin rolling over silk as you see yourself through the long mirror that hangs on the wall. Your cheeks bright red, a Cheshire cat grin splayed wide on your face as you nearly pant out with glee. You look like a puppy. A stupid lovesick puppy. 
   “Glad ya do,” he chuckles as he takes a couple more seconds before he says anything else. “So, ummm. I was wonderin’ if maybe you’re not busy tomorrow night, would you maybe wanna go to the fair with me?”
   Your jaw drops open, your mind dizzy with possibilities as you push yourself to the edge of the bed and clench your thighs together. “Like a date?” you ask wide-eyed, your heart pounding impossibly fast in your chest as you hope it is a date. 
   “Mhm. A date. If that’s what you want, that is.” His voice is low, fluctuating as you can picture his hand deep in his pocket, his fingers flexing with nerves as he waits for your answer. He has it as bad as you do, you think. 
   “A date…” you repeat steadily, your words lingering as you smile into the phone. “Okay, cowboy. It’s a date.”
   “Alright,” he chuckles as his laugh echoes through the glowing room. “How does six o’clock sound? I could pick you up. Jus’ text me your address.”
   “Six sounds perfect,” you purr, your eyes lighting up like a damn sparkler as you kick your legs in a frenzy underneath you. 
   “Six it is. Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” Darlin’. His words drip down you like sweet honey, a taste you want to devour down. You bet he tastes so sweet. 
   “Mkay. See ya tomorrow, Joel. Bye.”
   “Bye, sweetheart.”
   The call clicks to an end, the line going dead as you fall back into the silky sheets and scream into your hands. You’re going on a date tomorrow with the hottest Southern gentleman alive. You have to find something to wear!
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   You stand in the glow of the bathroom mirror and twirl around in your light green summer dress that grazes just a little above the middle of your thighs. The perfect length to tease Joel just a little and show off your tanned legs. You brush out your soft curls and dab some shiny lip gloss over your pink lips as you take one more good look at yourself. You’re more than ready. You spray a spritz of vanilla perfume on your neck and call it good as you sit the glass bottle back down on the edge of the sink.
   When you turn around, you hear a couple of loud knocks echo across the hall from the front door. Joel. He’s here. You grab your light blue over the shoulder purse and wrap it around yourself as you pad toward the door in your white slip-on Vans. Your heart is galloping in your chest like a thousand race horses colliding their heavy hooves against a racetrack, your cheeks burning from nerves as you make your way to the front solid wooden door. Please like me, please like me, please like me.  
   When you twist the doorknob and open the door, your eyes go wide as you take in the sight that stands in front of you. Joel stands with his large arms crossed over his broad chest, his rolled up dark green flannel clinging to the thick muscles of his arms as he smirks flirtatiously down at you. His tousled curls are slicked back, and he smells like fresh cologne and mahogany. A kind of scent that could pull you in just by the way he smells. Intoxicating. 
   “Hi,” you say nervously as you shut the door closed behind you, your fingers behind your back digging into the soft material of your dress as you fight off nerves that pull at your insides. 
   “Hi,” he repeats softly as his eyes drag down your summer dress and your tanned legs slowly. He gulps as he looks back up into your eyes and smiles, making his eyes crinkle at the sides as your heart flutters in your chest. 
   He’s so handsome. 
   “My, don’t you look pretty,” he says with the warmth of his deep voice which seems to surround you, encase you in nothing but comfort. You could listen to him talk all day long if he sounded like that. Warm, deep baritone voice, slow, syrupy, exactly how you pictured it. Perfection. 
   You feel your cheeks burn bright red as you giggle like a little school girl and flutter your eyelashes up at him. “Thanks,” you say nervously. 
   “You ready to go?” he asks as he pushes off the brick wall. 
   “Mhm.”
   “Well, c’mon then,” he laughs as he leads you to his red Chevy truck. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you up. His calloused hand seems to burn inside yours, a wildfire that simmers all the way down to your core the longer his fingers are on your skin. When he releases, he slams the door shut and makes his way over to the driver’s side. 
   When he hops in and starts the truck up, the engine rumbles to life exactly like your nerves do. You feel like a livewire that’s ready to explode. You’re in his truck, going on a date with him. You still can’t believe this is happening. 
   When the radio springs to life, you hear “Cherry Waves” by Deftones play softly against the hum of the speakers. Your eyes widen as a smile creeps up against your shiny lips. “Deftones, huh?”
   Joel looks over at you as he furrows his eyebrows together. “You know Deftones?” he asks surprised, his grip on the leather steering wheel tightening as he takes you in. 
   “Yeah! Doesn’t everyone?” you laugh as you buckle your seatbelt and look back up at him. He’s still looking at you in awe as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. The sight makes your stomach flip circles as he continues to look at you, the orbs of his honey eyes seeming to glow as you stare into those pits of pure warmth. 
   “Not exactly,” he chuckles as he pulls out of the quiet apartment complex and into the busy streets of Austin. “You like rock music?” 
   “What do you think?” you giggle as you turn the volume up one notch and lean your head back against the soft brown seat. 
   Joel turns his head toward you and cocks up a thick eyebrow as he smirks over at you. “Okay, smart alec. What’s your favorite song by them then?” 
   “Hmm, let me think,” you hum as you pick apart your brain, “probably Change.”
   “Mmm. Guess you are a fan,” he smiles as he drives down the busy street full of speeding cars and hovering beam lights. 
   “And yours?” you ask with the hint of a smirk on your face. 
   “Rosemary.”
   “Ahh. A classic. One of my favorites.”
   “Yeah?” 
   “Mhm,” you hum as you look out the glass window. You can see his reflection vaguely as he looks wondrously at you, and it makes butterflies flit through your stomach. 
   After a minute of silence, with only the hum of the radio playing, Joel clears his throat as you turn back to him. “So, slippin’ me your number in line, huh? Ain’t you a bold girl.”
   You raise your eyebrow at him and lean a little closer as you inhale his mahogany scent as it makes your head a little dizzy. “I mean, I was just trying to get your attention.”
   He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you had my attention the moment I saw you up on that carousel. You didn’t even have to try.”
   You feel your cheeks flush pink as you twist your fingers in your lap, your skirt barely covering your thighs as you find Joel’s eyes flit down to them. You pull nervously at your cotton dress and look back up at him shyly. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” 
   “Well, darlin’, I’m glad you slipped me your number or I wouldn’t have got to take out the prettiest girl in Austin.”
   You bite your lip and slide back into the seat, your nerves buzzing through your body as you try to relax and enjoy the ride. “Prettiest girl in Austin?”
   “That’s right, darlin’. Prettiest girl.”
   You turn your head to look at the sun slowly slipping under fluffy clouds as sunset draws close. You let the music flow through your eardrums as you bask in the large presence of the man that was made of dreams. Joel Miller. 
   In just a few short minutes, Joel’s parking the truck in the parking lot and walking you up to the shiny entry gates to the fair. He pulls his leather wallet out and purchases two tickets and then leads you through the metal gates. When you get inside, the glow of spinning rides and lit up food stands cover the entirety of the fair, the thick crowd sprawled every which way as you walk through the bustling crowd of people. 
   “You must like the fair,” you say as you pass a little girl with a clump of blue cotton candy in her hands. 
   “Why do you say that?” Joel asks as he walks side by side with you. 
   “Well, you were just here yesterday,” you laugh as you look up at him. He looks nervous as he rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper scruff and nonchalantly shakes his slicked back curls. “So, why’d you come back?”
   “Because,” he starts as he turns his body to you, “I wanted to take ya out. And I figured dinner would be nice and all, but thought maybe this would be more fun. A better way to get to know you. Maybe make you feel more comfortable,” he shrugs as he laughs nervously next to you. 
   “Oh.” He’s so… thoughtful. He really took the time to think that through to do what he thought would make you more comfortable. He was so… good. 
   “Hope that’s alright. You didn’t have to come back if you didn’t want to…”
   “No.” You cut him off and put your hand around his wrist as you turn to stand in front of him. “I wanted to come with you. This is perfect.”
   “You sure? You’re not just pullin’ my leg?” he asks with  knit together eyebrows, his jaw tense as you see his eyes burn like fire into yours.
   You step closer to him and nod your head up and down, flexing your fingers around his soft flannel shirt as you respond just loud enough for only him to hear over the buzz of the crowd. “Joel, I wouldn’t be here if I was just pulling your leg. Why’d you think I slipped you my number, hmm? I thought you were the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Didn’t want to miss the opportunity to pass me by to not get a chance to make a move on you,” you gush as you watch him relax against your touch. 
   “Darlin’, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop sweet talkin’ me or you’re gonna have me turnin’ this whole damn fair red,” he chuckles low as he slips his fingers behind your back, just above your hip as you feel warm heat slide down your spine. 
   “You mean I can make a big, strong, handsome man blush?” you giggle as he shakes his head again. 
   “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya?”
   “Guess so. Wanna see how many colors I can paint your face?” you laugh flirtatiously as he rolls his eyes.
   “C’mon, trouble. Such a little flirt.” He smirks and pulls you along the row of lit up games and lets his hand linger over your dress as you feel the tinge of red fill your cheeks.
   “So, umm. How old are ya, sweetheart?” he asks nervously as you walk past a group of teenagers gathering around a basketball game. 
   “Twenty-six,” you say cautiously as you look up under your long eyelashes, blinking away any doubts you have that he’ll think you’re too young. 
   “Twenty-six, yeah? Wow,” he laughs as he scratches the back of his head, making his bicep cling tight to the green flannel shirt, “I can remember when I was that young. Was a long time ago.”
   You scrunch your nose up at him and look curiously at him. “You’re making yourself sound like you’re ancient or something,” you laugh as you pass a little boy playing a ring toss game. 
   “I am ancient,” he responds as he looks the other way, shying away from you. 
   You pull on his flannel until his face is turned back toward you, making sure his brown eyes snap back down to you. “How old are you?” you ask with a raised brow.
   “Too old to be with a pretty young thing like you,” he scoffs as he tries to look away again. 
   You pull a little on the fabric of his collar until he has no choice but to look straight at you. “How old?” You don’t give him a chance to shy away again, he’s locked in, he has to answer you. 
   “Forty-seven,” he mumbles as you see a flash of panic through those big doe eyes of his. You smile up at him, and he just looks at you with his mouth parted open, like he can’t believe you’re smiling at him. “What? Why are you smilin’?”
   “Because,” you laugh as you drop your hand from his soft collar, “you’re not old, Joel. You’re just right.” 
   His features soften up, and you swear you see him sigh as relief seems to wash over him. He thought he was too old for you? “Jus’ right, huh?” he smirks as the corners of his mouth tilt up to be the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s so pretty. Especially in the colorful swirling lights of the fair.
   “Just right,” you confirm as you walk by a booth of various shapes of balloons.
   “Hey, mister! Why don’t you come play a round of darts and win your girl a prize?” The game worker shouts across the way as Joel turns his head and furrows his eyebrows as he looks back and forth between you and the game stand awkwardly. 
   When he takes another glance at you, he gives you a soft smile as the glow of his eyes turn lighter. “Wanna play a round?” he asks as he nods his head to the game stand.
   You turn your head and take in the row of balloons that paint the wall purple, red, yellow, green, and pink. All shapes and sizes of stuffed animals sit against the back wall, and you smirk up his way. “Think you can take out more balloons than me?” you ask playfully as you flick your hair behind your shoulder. 
   “Only one way to find out, darlin’.” He narrows his eyes mischievously and grabs your wrist as he pulls you to the edge of the stand.
   Joel hands five dollars to the worker, and he gives him ten black pointed darts. He hands you five of them and holds his arm toward the board filled with balloons. “Ladies first.”
   You smile and walk up to the line of white tape and carefully assess your movements. You decide to go for the middle row first. That should be safest. You line up your first dart and shoot. The pointy end barely grazes the edge of a yellow balloon and falls with a bang to the ground. 
   “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. You try again, but you miss again. Why can’t you just get one fucking balloon?
   You huff out and purse your lips together as you feel your thighs rub together in the heat of the warm summer’s night. You see Joel out of the corner of your eye, maybe a hint of empathy on his face as he takes in your pouting lips. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, and you try your best not to look too upset as you twirl the smooth dart in your hand.
   “Well, keep going!” The worker practically screams at you as you almost jump out of your skin. As you look down at the dart and weigh your options, something happens that you didn’t expect to. Joel slides up behind you and puts one hand on your waist as he angles you perpendicular to the board of balloons while his hand wraps around yours with the dart between your fingers. 
   You gasp as he guides your arm. “Let me help ya, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips graze the shell of your ear, making a bead of sweat stick to the side of your forehead as nerves course through your veins.
   “You wanna keep your eyes right on the center of the balloon. Imagine it has a big target in the middle that you want to reach. You wanna close one eye, aim right for the center, and throw hard.” The words whisk through you at an impossibly fast rate as his hot breath breathes down your neck. You think you might pass out at how hot your skin feels with him this close, with him touching you. It’s like he’s branding you as his own. 
   “Like this?” you whisper out hoarsely as you bring your arm up as his hand never leaves yours.
   “Yeah, there ya go. Right for the middle of the yellow one. Go on now,” he encourages as he takes you through the motions, his gravelly voice breathing down the side of your neck as his broad body hovers over yours.
   You hold your breath and throw the dart, keeping one eye closed as you focus solely on the blown up balloon and not on the gorgeous man that’s clinging to your skin. The dart soars through the air and lands right in the center of the yellow balloon as you hear a loud pop and see scattered shreds fall to the ground.
   “Yes! I got it,” you say excitedly as Joel chuckles lightly and nods his head. 
   “Attagirl.”
   The word makes you gulp as you feel your skin flush from the praise. He was basically calling you a good girl, and that was the hottest thing a man has ever said to you. Attagirl. Something so sexy about the way he said it to you in a deep, Southern drawl. Attagirl. 
   He steps back and lets you take your turn for your last two darts. You go over every step he told you to do and follow what he instructed you to do. You did exactly that and popped two more balloons as they fell broken to the floor.
   “Nice shot,” he winks as he takes your place and steps up to the white line. 
   “Alright, cowboy. Let’s see what you got,” you say playfully as you see his lips curl up into a huge grin. 
   It’s almost too easy for him. He takes down two at a time with only one dart, his aim impeccable as he takes down balloon after balloon. When his five darts are gone, he dusts off his hands on his dark jeans and smiles your way. “So, how’d I do?”
   “You’re too good, Joel. A master of balloons,” you tease as you playfully push at his solid chest. 
   “Master of balloons, not master of puppets?” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him.
   “Metallica fan I see,” you say with a raised brow as you cross your arms over your chest. 
   “Good guess.” 
   Before you walk away, the game worker tells Joel he can pick out any stuffed animal he wants. Joel looks over at you with a wandering gaze as he reaches out his hand and pulls you over to the edge of the stand. 
   “What do ya want?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the wall. There’s a variety of stuffed animals. Monkeys, teddy bears, all the way to jellyfish. Your eyes wander the wall until they land on a light blue dolphin. That’s the one.
   “That one.” You point to the dolphin, and the worker gets it down for you. 
   “Here you go,” the worker nods as you take the plush dolphin and smile down at it, “I’m sure your girl is happy now.”
   Joel looks down at the stuffed dolphin in your hand and smiles as his warm brown eyes meet yours. “Yeah, think she is.” You blush and walk down the row of busy games as Joel walks next to you with his hand hovering over the small of your back.
   “Thanks for that back there,” you murmur as you set your pace a little slower.
   “For what?” he asks as his hand presses deeper into the fabric of your dress. 
   “For showing me how to throw the darts probably and winning me this dolphin,” you say as you hold the plushie stuffed animal up and poke him playfully in the bicep with it. 
   “Anytime, darlin’. Anytime,” he chuckles as he walks along the flurries of crowds.
   You walk along the outside of the crowd as you pass an area full of a variety of food trucks. “So. Was that your daughter yesterday with you in line?” 
   “Oh, yeah. That was Sarah. My little girl. Well, not so little anymore. She’ll be eighteen next year, and she’s about to start her senior year of high school, but she’ll always be my little girl.”
   You watch the gleam in his chocolate eyes as you take in his expression. A little sadness but also so very proud. He looks like he loves her a lot, and that makes your heart beat for him even more. “Is that your only one?”
   “My only kid?” he asks as he turns his head toward you, “yeah, she’s my only one.”
   You ask the next question carefully, walking on thin ice. You didn’t see a ring, so you assume he isn’t taken. “And there’s no Mrs. Miller in the picture?”
   He scratches the bottom of his scruff as he stretches his neck, assessing the question before he answers. “No. It’s jus’ me, darlin’. No one else in the picture.”
   Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to face him, your head cocking to the side as you look him up and down carefully. “You mean to tell me that a man like you is single?”
   He just shrugs his shoulders and blatantly answers. “What’s so hard to understand ‘bout that?”
   You put one hand on each hip and roll your eyes sarcastically. “I mean, hello? You’re ridiculously hot and nice and I don’t know, sweet?”
   Joel chuckles and raises one eyebrow up. “Got me blushin’ again, darlin’,” he responds as he rakes a hand slowly down his jawline while his cheeks turn a deep red.
   You laugh and admire how absolutely beautiful the man looks when he’s full of embarrassment. He’s so freaking cute that you could just squish him. Soft, the man is so soft. You might just fall head over heels for him.
   “And that’s you, sweetheart. Sweet, flirty, adorable, absolutely drop dead gorgeous,” he gushes as he looks at you with glittering honey eyes. Now it’s you that’s the one blushing. “Can’t believe you’re at the fair with me. Of all the men you could be with, you went with me. What ever made you do that?” he asks unbelievably as he shakes his head. 
   “Because I saw more than a handsome face in that crowd when I saw you standing in line. I saw a man I wanted to get to know, wondered if you felt the same way. You looked like magic, and I wanted to taste it,” you smirk as his cheeks turn bright red again. 
   “Christ,” he chuckles as he grabs your arm and pulls you through the blinding crowd, “c’mon you sweet talker. Magic, huh? You’re the one that looks like magic.” You just giggle silently as you let him take you on the ride of your life. 
   The sun slowly dips beneath the clouds as the last clashes of mixed shades of purple and orange colors turn to darkness. The fair lights up every which way as glowing lights from the amusement rides and food trucks light the way on the warm pavement. You pass a stand with blowing bubbles and light up toys and look over to see Joel eyeing you, a curious glint in his chocolate eyes as he assesses you closely. 
   Before you wait to see what he’s about to ask you, you chime in first. “So, cowboy, what do you do for work?” 
   You hear him chuckle and mutter something about cowboy under his breath as he runs calloused fingers smoothly through his slicked back curls. “I’m a contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy, run a business together.”
   You lift an eyebrow and smirk his way. “A contractor, huh?”
   Joel just chuckles and nods his head. “S’right, sweetheart. We keep pretty busy, that’s for sure.”
   You eye his green flannel, dark denim jeans, and leather boots and nod. Of course he was a contractor. He definitely looked the part. “So you’re strong and handsome? And you know how to build things? My, my, Mr. Miller. You’re quite the package, aren’t you?” You tease as you push him playfully in the arm and flash him a ridiculously huge grin that you can barely keep to yourself. 
   “A package, huh? Can’t say that anyone’s ever called me quite a package before,” he responds as his hand grazes yours carefully. You taste the flames as they lick against your skin, you want to dance in them as they burn you alive. 
   “Well, I called you one so there’s that if that means anything.” You shrug your shoulders absentmindedly and look back ahead as you hear Joel laugh under his breath. 
   “Mmm definitely means somethin’, darlin’.” You look back to see he’s giving you this crooked smile, and his chocolate eyes are scorching into yours as you see just how soft he is. He’s like a little puppy dog with those big eyes of his, and you just want to take him home and make him yours forever. 
   You almost reach out to lace your arm in his until he asks you a question. “What about you, sweetheart? What do you do?”
   You smile warmly up at him and answer. “I’m actually studying to get my master’s in art at the University of Texas. And I work at this little art shop off Hollow’s Drive. It’s called Autumn’s Art Gallery.”
   You watch the way he shifts his honey eyes over to you as he gives you a once over. “An artist, you say? Impressive. You draw or paint?”
   “Both, actually. I find myself with a charcoal pencil in my hand more than a paint brush. But I love them both equally,” you shrug as your shoes scuff against the cement. 
   “You draw people?” he asks thoughtfully as you meet his simmering gaze. 
   “All the time. Why?”
   He laughs as you see the crow’s feet pull at the corners of his eyes. “You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?” 
   “Joel Miller throwing Titanic quotes at me?” you laugh as you shake your head at him in disbelief. 
   “Couldn’t resist that joke, darlin’. Was the perfect opportunity,” he chuckles as you roll your eyes at him. 
   “Sure, just let me go conjure up a butterfly robe and an old parlor couch while I find you a red wig.”
   You watch him crinkle his eyes up as he holds his stomach and chuckles loudly as he throws his head back. You join in on his laughter and almost burst into tears from how hard the two of you are laughing. When he finally catches a breath after a few moments, he wipes his eyes and places a firm hand on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. You’ve got a gift,” he smiles as you see nothing but warm brown eyes swarm your vision. 
   “Glad I could make you laugh,” you giggle.
   “So, art. What got ya interested in art?” he asks with a cocked up brow as he presses his palm into the middle of your shoulder blades. His hand burns like fire, but you love it. 
   “Well, I’ve always had a love for painting. I told my mom when I was in kindergarten that I was going to grow up to be an artist and look at me now! I made it,” you beam as the glow of the Ferris wheel lights your way forward. 
   “I’d love to see your work sometime,” Joel responds as his fingers slide down to right above your hips, right at that dangerous level of being too close but not close enough. 
   “Really?” you ask surprised as you see him nod his head. 
   “Really.”
   You bite your lower lip and cross your arms as you turn to look at him, your eyes sliding along his beautiful face. “Would you… do you think you’d let me draw you sometime?” you ask shyly as you play with the skirt of your green dress, your cheeks flushing pink as you flutter your eyelashes at him. 
   He laughs out loud as his eyes widen. “Sweetheart, what would you wanna draw me for? Ain’t nothin’ worth drawin’,” he says amused as he adjusts the sleeve of his flannel shirt. 
   You shrug your shoulders and sway your hips as you respond. “I dunno. I think you’ve got such a handsome face. It’d be worth it to me.”
   His lips part open as his eyes stare intimately down into yours as he takes in what you just told him. He looks conflicted, surprised even that you’d say that. But his eyes soften and a crooked smile splays across his mouth, and you think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. 
   “Darlin’, if you’re gonna sweet talk me like that then ‘course you can draw me. Jus’ don’t let me look bad.”
   “I could never make you look bad, Joel.” He smiles and cups his hand underneath your chin and grazes it affectionately before he takes your hand and pulls you along the street. 
   He slowly slips his hand into yours as he entwines his fingers around yours, the callouses grazing along your skin as you feel warmth cover your insides as he takes a hold of you. It feels so right, makes you a little dizzy if you’re being honest. How can you like a man so much that you only just met? You don’t know what it is, but he feels like complete magic. The perfect man that’ll indulge all your fantasies. 
   He pulls you along the busy crowd, hand in hand as he looks back every few seconds and flashes you with the most dreamy smile you’ve ever seen, ending with a flirty wink that almost makes you choke on your own saliva. He grasps your fingers tighter as he slides his calloused thumb gently over the top of your hand. Right before he passes the Ferris wheel that’s spinning slowly in the mix of all the different fair rides, Joel stops just a few feet from the entrance and looks back at you, one eyebrow cocking up as he takes in your curious expression. 
   “What?” you ask with a small laugh as you take in his coffee colored eyes that narrow just a tad, the look of a man with an agenda up his sleeve. 
   “Wanna go for a ride?” he asks as he nods his head toward the lit up Ferris wheel, his eyes never leaving yours. 
   You flick your eyes carefully over the spinning ride and then look back at him as you turn your hips closer to him. “A ride?” you ask flirtatiously as you smirk up at him, “Joel Miller wants to take me for a ride?”
   His eyes slightly darken, his nail beds scratching along your skin as he leans in closer so you can hear that deep Southern drawl that clings to your insides. “Promise to take it slow,” he whispers menacingly. You gulp at his double meaning, his wicked smirk clawing at your insides as you feel the sweat bead down your skin. 
   Promise to take it slow. The words are harmless yet heated. He means the ride will be slow, but there’s also that other meaning. The one where it involves his lap, his cock, his slow motions as you gently slide up and down on his slick covered cock. That’s what those words really mean to you, and fuck do you want that. Badly.
   “Okay,” you breathe out slowly as he smiles and leads you to the small ticket booth ahead. He pulls out his leather wallet and hands the attendant three dollars in exchange for two small pink tickets. Joel leads you to the front of the line and hands the tickets off as he lets you climb into one of the carts first. You sit down on the white plastic seat and get situated, fanning your green skirt across your thighs as Joel takes his place across from you. 
   After a few seconds, the ride starts up and you slowly ascend into the summer night’s air. The fair looks so different up in the sky, glowing lights encased in a blur as you see different shades of pinks, blues, reds, and yellows paint the fair. Soft bubbles float in the background, and bright stars twinkle in the night sky. It’s all so very whimsical. 
   “Wow. It’s really beautiful up here,” you say in awe as you take in all the colorful scenery of the fair. 
   “Yeah, it sure is,” Joel says quietly across from you. When you turn to look at him, he’s not looking at the loud crowds or the different colored bumper cars across the way. No. He’s looking at you. 
   Oh. 
   Your knees brush against his jeans, and his hand grazes gently against your inner thigh, his rough fingertips resting just behind your kneecap as his thumb brushes back and forth gently. Slow, meticulous, heated. His eyes bore into yours, chocolate irises that simmer warmly into yours. He just sits there staring, lips halfway parted as he’s mesmerized in place, his eyes only on you. 
   Another brush of his fingertips and suddenly the air is too hot, too much as you fight every bone in your body to jump right off your seat and straddle his lap. His lips look so inviting, plush, big. Lips that were made just for you to kiss. His eyes trail down to your lips, dark eyes smoldering as he gulps and takes another breath. 
   The tension is heavy, weighing down on your insides that scream for you to move. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. You bet he’s a great kisser, bet he has an experienced tongue, bet he can swallow you down and devour you whole when he licks into your mouth. Warm, inviting, blissful. 
   Suddenly your body is leaning forward, slowly reaching out as your right hand comes down on his denim clad knee. He does the same, cautiously bending forward, eyes locked with yours as he reaches, reaches, reaches until his calloused fingers are brushing against your jawline, eyes swallowing you whole as he leans forward more, almost to your lips, almost…
   The Ferris wheel abruptly starts again and jolts both of you back in your seats, interrupting the almost kiss that could’ve happened. You internally grunt inside. Why the fuck did that have to happen? You just sigh as Joel reaches behind his head to scratch his neck, eyebrows furrowed as he blows out a breath and then looks back up at you with an amused expression on his face. Then the two of you burst out laughing, a harmonious melody that reaches through the dim night sky and catches on the bright lights of the fair. You keep laughing until both of you are gasping for breath, a silly moment that turned into a mutual joke. 
   “So much for a slow ride,” Joel chuckles as he runs a hand through his thick locks of curls, sighing again as you see the crow’s feet wrinkling at the edges of his golden eyes. And my oh my does he look pretty. 
   “So much for that,” you laugh and stare off into the blurring crowd on the ground. 
   After a couple more spins on the Ferris wheel, the ride comes to a halt at the bottom and Joel takes your hand and helps you out of the little cart. “You hungry?” he asks as he keeps your hand locked tightly in his. 
   “Mmm what’d you have in mind? Something sweet, maybe?” you smile with one eyebrow raised in question. 
   Joel shakes his head and laughs, warm and deep. “Figured you’d have a sweet tooth.”
   “Oh? Why’s that?”
   “‘Cause you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, eyes lit up like Christmas lights as you stare back at him in awe. He called you sweet. He thinks you’re sweet. You don’t say anything, you just smile and follow him down the row of lit up food trucks that are swarmed with lines. You think you’d follow him anywhere. As long as he’d keep you locked in his arms.
   He pulls you into a short line of one of the funnel cake stands as you look at the decorative funnel cakes on display. That’s not all there is. There’s also blue and pink bags of cotton candy, Caramel apples, cinnamon rolls, and pink lemonade. 
   “You want a funnel cake?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the powdered sugar treats. 
   “Mhm,” you nod as his hand squeezes gently around yours. 
   “You want one of those fancy ones or just a plain one?”
   “Just a plain one is good with me.”
   “Anythin’ else?” he asks as he looks over his shoulder and down at you. Your eyes keep going back to the pink colored cotton candy, your mouth watering as you can almost taste the fluffy goodness melt in your mouth. He seems to notice as he speaks again. “I see you keep lookin’ at that cotton candy. Wanna get some?”
   “Please,” you respond eagerly as you almost bounce at the mention of cotton candy. Joel chuckles to himself when he sees your eyes light up. He thinks you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 
   When it’s your turn at the window, Joel orders the funnel cake and cotton candy and hands the worker some cash as she takes it from him. “Give us a few minutes with the funnel cake. We’ll have it out in about five minutes,” the worker says as she hands Joel a large bag of fluffy cotton candy. 
   “Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls as he hands you the clear bag of cotton candy and grazes his fingers lightly over yours. 
   “Thanks, Joel.” You open the twisted bag carefully and tear off a piece of pink cotton candy with your thumb and index finger. When you pop a fluffy piece into your mouth, you swallow the cherry flavor and groan from the delicious cotton candy as you lick your glossy lips clean. “So good,” you sigh as you take another bite and lick your thumb clean of the sticky mess. 
   “Yeah? Let me have a bite then.” He reaches for the open bag of cotton candy, but you snatch it from him before he can grab a piece and hold it high in the air. 
   “Only if you can catch me,” you tease as you smirk over at him, snickering under your breath as his eyebrows knit together. 
   “Now, sweetheart. Jus’ what do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he asks as he extends his fingers and stares your way. 
   “Having some fun,” you giggle as he reaches once more for the bag, but you take another step back. 
   “You’re walking on mighty thin ice, darlin’,” he murmurs as his eyes darken slightly, almost like he wants to chase you. 
   “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it then? You gonna just stand there or are you gonna come get me?” you taunt as you rustle the bag and toss it back and forth in your hands. 
   “Oh, I’m gonna come get you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he smirks as he takes one step forward. 
   You lick your bottom lip and place one hand on your hip as you taunt him. “Come get me then, cowboy.”
   He twitches his jaw and narrows his eyes playfully as a smug smirk covers his plush lips. Before you know it, he’s lunging at you as you squeak and try to run from him. You don’t make it far until you feel his thick arms wrap around your waist, and then he’s picking you up as you squeal while he spins you around. 
   “C’mere you little tease,” he chuckles as he places you back on the ground and leans forward, biting off a piece of cotton candy as almond eyes stare straight into yours. “Delicious,” he smiles as he grabs another handful and pops it into his mouth, smirking down at you as you stare wide-eyed at him. 
   “What am I gonna do with you?” he chuckles as he shakes his head slowly at you. 
   “I dunno,” you smile bashfully and sway your hips as your green summer dress blows in the gentle breeze of the night. “Guess you could keep me,” you say shyly, fluttering your eyelashes at him as you look carefully at his calm features. 
   “Keep you, huh?” he asks with a crooked smile splayed on his face. 
   “Mhm,” you hum shyly. 
   “Maybe I will, darlin’. Maybe I will.” He reaches out and cups your chin as he tilts it up so he can have a better look into your shimmering eyes. Just when you think he might kiss you, they call your order from the side window of the food truck. Joel grabs the paper plate of the powdered dessert and grabs up two forks and napkins as he leads you over to an empty picnic style table. You take a seat on the old, rickety seat, and Joel slides in next to you, the side of his thigh pressed firmly against your bare leg. And it burns, hot. 
   As the two of you pick at the savory funnel cake, you and Joel bond over interests and likes. You learn his favorite color is blue, the same as yours, he plays guitar, he likes fishing, camping, building and making things, but mostly he loves spending precious time with his daughter, Sarah. And you love that, love that he’s a good father. He’s not just a good father, he’s the perfect father. The way he talks about her is, well, wonderful. You could sit and listen to him talk all night long if you could. And you also wonder who the hell would be so stupid as to leave him? He’s literally perfect. Sweet, funny, handsome, a menace. But that just leaves more for you. 
   “How’s the funnel cake, darlin’? Sweet enough?” Joel laughs as he takes another bite out of the fried goodness. 
   “Definitely sweet enough, it’s just right.” You swallow another mouthful of powdered sugar and just when you’re about to reach for another forkful, Joel nods to the side of your face. 
   “You got a little somethin’ on your face, sweetheart.”
   Grabbing up a clean napkin, you dab at your face embarrassed and find there’s nothing there. “Where? I don’t feel anything.”
   “Oh, you missed. Right here.” He swipes his finger in a pile of powdered sugar and wipes it clear across the side of your face as you feel powdered sugar stick to your shiny skin.
   Your eyes grow wide as you push him playfully against his strong chest. “Joel!”
   He erupts into a fit of laughter as he throws back his head and holds a firm hand across his chest. “Sorry, darlin’. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles as he plants his thick fingers against the denim of his broad thighs. 
   You lean forward, challenging him and smirk. “Okay then. If you think it’s so funny then why don’t you clean up the mess you made. Hmm?” 
   He eyes you carefully, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he studies you, flicking his eyes between your mouth and your playfully narrowed eyes. He runs a hand nervously down the side of his jaw, right through the greying scruff as he waits and waits and waits. Then he’s moving, leaning forward, brushing his calloused fingers against the edge of your thigh until his tongue is flat against the corner of your mouth. 
   His tongue is warm, long, wet as he laps up the powdered sugar. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you, a meer tinge of bravery slipping through your nerves. After he’s done lapping up the mess he made, just as he’s starting to pull back, you feel that spark of bravery shoot through you again at the speed of lightning, so you move, fast. Before he can turn his face away, you lean forward and plant your lips firmly over his, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as warmth runs like honey down your insides. 
   You break the kiss fast, your cheeks burning red as you feel sort of dizzy from the quick actions. Just when you almost apologize for diving in, Joel cups your chin and brings you back in. His lips are on you in a second. Hot, burning, electric, he seems to be everywhere. Crowding your space, slipping through your lips, burning you from the inside out. The kiss deepens as he cradles the side of your face, fingers brushing through thick locks of your wind blown hair. You seem to get lost in time as you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer to your body, until he’s flush against your chest.  
   You part your lips and allow his tongue to enter your vicinity, feeling it collide with your own as it dances around yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He tastes like powdered sugar, coffee, warm summer nights as his tongue glides against yours. It’s like all the busy movements and loud noises in the fair stop, it’s only you and Joel, just two people getting lost in a first kiss. It’s almost like you’re in a movie, camera slowly spinning around the two of you as you get tangled up together in a slow, romantic kiss. And it’s like fireworks go off in the sky, colorful swirls painting the way each time your lips move in sync. It’s unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had before. It’s slow, easy, just right, perfect. And you know then you’re a goner. You’ve fallen for the man with dreamy brown eyes and a Southern drawl you could hear for hours on end. You truly had it bad for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet. 
   After a couple of minutes go by, Joel pushes himself back, but keeps one hand lingering on your jaw, his thumb trailing gently against your flushed cheek. “I knew it,” he smiles, a warm, honey-like tone slipping off his tongue as he looks at you with warm, brown eyes. 
   “Knew what?” you whisper out, still catching your breath from that amazing first kiss. 
   “I knew you were sweeter than pie,” he smiles as you catch a gleam in those pretty honey colored eyes. 
   “Sweeter than pie?” 
   “Darlin’, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
   Your lips part open, a stupid grin spreading across your glossy mouth as you stare incredulously at the sweetest man that took your breath away. 
   You spend the next couple hours locked hand in hand, exploring every square inch of the fair, sharing cherry lemonade with each other, bonding over movies and shared interests, just spending the night getting to know one another. It was the best date of your life, the best night. You never would have imagined it to be quite like this, but here you were, completely entranced with some handsome man you fell for on the carousel. 
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   The drive back home is quiet as the breeze from the open window blows softly through your hair. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, the way he keeps smiling and staring every few seconds just watching you enjoy the long summer’s night. The radio hums low in your ear, but all you can hear is your own breath, the shift of Joel in the driver’s seat, the soft tapping noise of his thumb on the leather steering wheel, and the low rumble of the truck’s engine. You love summer nights, love getting lost in the night, but most of all you love being in this truck, in this seat, next to Joel. 
   You feel Joel’s calloused fingers slowly graze against the outside of your thigh, so you shift in your seat and look over at him all dreamily, getting lost in those honey flecked eyes you find so mesmerizing. He’s got you twisted around the black military watch that sits clasped against his wrist, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you go. 
   After a few more minutes of driving on the dark, dimly lit road back to your apartment, he’s pulling up to your front door. The one with overflowing white lilies in pots and the crystal wind chime you can’t seem to let go of. He puts the truck in park and looks over at you, an expression of gentleness as he relaxes his brows and pulls some out of place locks behind your ear. 
   “I had a great time with you tonight, darlin’.” You watch the crooked smile appear on the side of his mouth, his eyes seeming to twinkle like the bright stars in the night sky. 
   “I did, too, Joel. Thank you, for the perfect date.”
   “Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.”
   You sit there a moment, hovering in the silence as you chew on your bottom lip and taste the hint of cherry lip gloss. You twist your fingers in your lap, thighs pressing together as you look up at him through your long eyelashes. He’s just sitting there, his jaw clenched as he stares at you perplexed with the engine humming faintly in the background. 
   Just as you think of slowly making your way out the passenger door, Joel clears his throat and dwindles his hand on the steering wheel. “Would you… would you maybe wanna go on another date with me next Friday? Sarah’s gonna be outta town for volleyball camp, and I have the weekend free. Maybe you’d wanna come over for dinner or watch a movie or…”
   You interrupt his offer as you quickly nod your head yes. “I’d really like that.”
   “Is that a yes then?” he asks, brown eyes full of hope as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, awaiting your final answer. 
   “That’s definitely a yes, cowboy,” you smile as he smirks back at you in response. 
   “Friday it is then,” he confirms as his eyes never wander from yours. 
   “Friday it is.” You let your hand meander on the side of the door handle and tug gently as you start to slide over in the seat. “Well, goodnight. Thank you again for the perfect evening.”
   Just as you about make it out of the door, Joel shoots his hand out and grabs your wrist tightly, his voice straining with an ounce of restraint as he holds you there, locked in his embrace. “Wait.” 
   You slowly turn, eyes locking with his as they seem to widen, his plush lips parted open as he stares transfixed, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths as he tries to hold back. He really needs to, doesn’t need to rush anything, but any self restraint comes crashing down when your eyes trail down to his warm lips. 
   “C’mere.” A gasp falls out of your mouth as he pulls you into his lap, your thighs straddling his as he pulls you flush to his broad chest. “Wanna kiss you one more time, sweetheart.”
   With no hesitation, he tugs your head down to his and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, burning as you melt your lips against his and get lost in the radiant glow of the moment. You part your lips, and he slots his tongue inside your mouth, desperately licking at the cotton candy flavor as he collides with your tongue. He twists around, pulling you closer to his body as you feel the hard erection that bulges at his zipper line. 
   You deepen the kiss, tasting the powdered sugar and cherry lemonade against your lips, letting your body grind down on him as you hear him moan through your glossy lips. You feel his hands slowly slide your dress up, feel his meaty palms dig into your thighs as you feel slick start to coat your lace.
   You rake your fingers through his messy curls, start to grind against the thickness of his cock through his tight denim jeans as you picture how ruined he must be underneath that zipper. You moan into his mouth the second one of his hands slides up higher, teasing the inside of your thigh as you desperately want to ride him right here, right now. You want to taste him, want to feel him slide in and out of your dripping core, want him to make you come until you see nothing but him in your vision. 
   His swollen lips drop to the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your skin as he starts to suck slowly, finding just the right spot that makes you moan and pant against the shell of his ear as your face rubs against his coarse salt-and-pepper scruff. Your fingers cling to his dark green flannel, curling around the edges as you lick the side of his ear, just as he makes you moan again from his teasing tongue low on your collarbone. 
   Your other hand grips the back of his sweaty hair, holding on for dear life as you feel you can orgasm right here at any moment. He hasn’t even touched you where you need him most, and he already has you unraveling from the seams. Just when he’s about to slide his hand under your soaked panties, his phone rings loudly, blaring as you almost jump out from beneath your sticky skin.
   You hear Joel swear under his breath as he digs his phone out from deep within the pocket of his jeans. When he retrieves it, he looks at the lit up screen and sighs. “It’s Sarah, I gotta answer this,” he murmurs as you sit still and let him take the call. “Hello?”
   You watch him talk, eyes blown out as his breathing is still shallow, beads of sweat staining his forehead as his curls stick to the edges of his face. His eyes are on yours, unmoving, even when he’s talking to his daughter on the phone. 
   “You alright? You call Tommy first?” he asks as his free hand stills on your exposed thigh, his thumb gently circling your burning skin as his chocolate eyes stare back into yours, that same heated gaze locked on you. You hear a small voice on the end of the line, but it’s just quiet enough to where you can’t make out what she says. 
   “Ahh, shit. Alright, jus’ hang tight. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Jus’ wait there with Ellie and tell her not to touch anything. See ya in a few.” He clicks end on the phone and shoves it back into his pocket, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tight for just a few seconds. 
   “Everything okay?” you ask quietly, still out of breath from the heated kiss. 
   “Yeah, Sarah jus’ got a flat tire near the house. Tommy’s daughter, Ellie, is tryin’ to fix it, and I just know she’s gonna make a mess and hurt herself if I don’t get there quick. Damn kid likes to cause trouble,” he chuckles as he sighs again and pulls you close, resting his forehead on your own as he breathes out slowly. 
   He pushes some damp locks behind your ear, and you sit there glued to his flannel, your nose gently brushing against his. He shifts in his seat and sighs before he speaks. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to take it so far. If I didn’t get that call, I might’ve not been able to stop myself. You’re just so… so… beautiful and hard to resist and fuck. We don’t have to take it fast, we can go slow, as slow as you want, darlin’. I jus’ like you a lot and wanna keep you around and…”
   You cut him off as you press your thumb against his bottom lip and gently hush him. “Joel, it’s okay,” you giggle out as you look straight into flecks of warm honey eyes. “What if I don’t want to take it slow?”
   His eyes widen, a speck of sweat sliding down his forehead as he eyes you carefully, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you closely. “Are you sure?”
   You nod in response. “I’m sure, Joel. I want this, want you. I’m all in. I’m not going anywhere.”
   A small smile creeps up against his lips, and then all you can see is warmth in his face, his cheeks tinged red as he blushes. “Alright, sweetheart. If that’s what you want. What do you say, Friday we pick this up where we left off?”
   “Friday it is, cowboy.”
   Another chuckle reverberates off his lips as he brings you down once more against him and crashes his lips into yours. This time it’s just one kiss, but it’s as heated and intense as the others, but there’s also something else in the kiss. Need, desire, want. He wants you, just as bad as you want him. 
   When he breaks the kiss, he helps you off his lap and ghosts his fingers over the back of your hand as you make your way out of the truck. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”
   Before you close the door, you smile warmly at him and wave flirtatiously. “Night, cowboy. You sure do know how to light a girl up inside.” Before he can say anything back as his cheeks burn bright crimson, you slam the door closed and saunter up to your small porch. You feel his eyes on you, watching until you make it in safely, then he’s driving off into the thick of the night. 
   When you close the door, you slide down the back of the wood and end up on the floor in a heap, giggling to yourself as you rest your head against the back of the door and hug the stuffed dolphin to your chest. You can’t stop kicking your feet, can’t stop the feeling of warmth and nerves pulling at your insides. You have it so bad for Joel Miller. You can’t wait to see him again. Your new favorite cowboy. 
Tags: @laurrrra @sawymredfox @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vivian-pascal
@littlevenicebitch69 @mountainsandmayhem @lotusbxtch @jasminedragoon
@msjarvis @survivingandenduring @littlepedrito @burntheedges @pedroisghosties @pedrostories
@disassociation-daydreams @littlepadika @notjustjavierpena-fics @giowritess
@untamedheart81 @akah565 @keylimebeag @angelbbyswrld @sunbellylou @auteurdelabre
@axshadows @joelmillerisapunk @pedroswife69
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angels-fantasy · 2 days
Note
Hii this is my first ever request so I'm so sorry if it's bad😭 But recently this has been like in the back of my head and I couldn't find any fics abt it. So basically it's Brothers best friend Bakugo... I'm low-key so embarrassed but I thought it would be cool for some angst 🤭 I love your works and I hope I'm not bothering, i hope you have a nice day!!
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My Brother's Bestfriend Is The One For Me!
Katsuki Bakugou x Reader
Details: umm little confessions at the end tee hee, nothing too crazy. reader gets in their head about some tingz, silly katsuki
Word Count: 1k
hello im sorry i replied a little late, thank you sm for your request this is an awesome idea :D i hope you have a nice day too <3 i tried my best at some angst 🥲 i hope i did your request justice! also plsss someone know what im referencing in the title lolol. its not exact but its close XD
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ever since you were a kid, you had a crush on your older brother's best friend-katsuki bakugou-who was also older than you, but only by two years! so it wasn't that bad, really.
watching him grow up into the handsome man he is now was hard, especially when you were always seen as the annoying, younger sibling that just wanted to hang out with the older kids.
though something that was even harder was having to watch people throw themselves at your childhood crush, only to see them grow disappointed at his arrogant personality.
this frustrated you because you knew katsuki better than any of those losers did. you knew how to work around his rough edges, how to tell apart his real anger from his teasing words, and so many other things about him.
but if you knew him better than everyone else that was interested in him, why didn't he want you back? did he still only see you as his best friend's annoying, younger sibling? he couldn't have, right?
that exact thought lingered in your mind every time katsuki was around. there was no way you didn't have at least a small chance with him, especially considering the fact that he'd never had a serious relationship before. it wasn't that he couldn't get one, because he definitely could, but it was because he chose not to.
katsuki was ambitious, and he didn't want to let anything get in his way while he was training to become a pro-hero, and that included relationships. now maybe you were naive for this, but sometimes you really thought you were different in his eyes, and you would have a chance with him.
so here you were, sitting at the dining table in your parents house across from katsuki. your brother had invited him over, like he usually did. you forgot the reason why, all you knew was that your crush was coming over, so you were excited.
but now that you were sitting across from him, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat nervously under his gaze.
"what's up with you?" he asked, causing your family to turn their attention towards you.
your face burned. "er-nothing. i'm just tired... i didn't sleep well last night." you lied, making katsuki squint at you while your family shrugged off your excuse and went back to their conversation.
the rest of the dinner continued on, with you occasionally picking at your food and glancing up at katsuki, who had caught you looking multiple times.
once everyone was done eating, you immediately offered to wash the dishes, just trying to find any excuse to get away from your crush's intense gaze. since you were cleaning up and it was late at night, you could hear your parents go to their bedroom and your brother tell katsuki he'd be waiting in his.
as you were washing dishes you felt a presence behind you, and you knew exactly who it was.
"hey, buggy." he said, ruffling up your hair and making you groan in annoyance. 'buggy' was your childhood nickname, given to you by none other than katsuki, when he found you playing with a few bugs one day.
he hasn't let you live it down since.
"i don't even play with bugs anymore! i was like five, katsuki." you said, growling at a particular stain that wouldn't wash off very easily.
he crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter next to you, silently watching as you continued to wash the rest of the dishes.
when you were done with the last dish, you dried your hands and turned to him. "why are you here, stalking me? shouldn't you be hanging out with my brother or something?" you snarled, getting frustrated at his company. usually, you'd appreciate it, but these past few weeks he'd been oddly quiet around you - especially when you two were alone.
"maybe i just wanna hang out with you, buggy. is that a problem?"
you clenched your fists, feeling your frustration boil over. how could he act like he wasn't doing anything wrong? did he not realize that he'd been making you feel flustered and confused all the time?? these past few months he'd been behaving strangely around you, and you didn't know what to think of it.
"stop messing with me." you said in a serious tone, looking down at your feet. "you always confuse me with all the shit you say and i hate it! i don't know what to think anymore!"
a part of you felt bad for yelling at him like this, but you couldn't help yourself.
you glanced up at his face and saw his shocked expression, and you wondered what he was going to say next. probably something stupid.
he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his spiky hair, "'m not tryna confuse you... i just-ugh. you're actually not a shitty person to talk to." he confessed, reluctantly of course.
you shook your head at his words. "you don't have to lie, i know i'm probably more of a little sibling in your eyes anyway." you said, making your way around him to go upstairs to your bedroom until he stepped in front of you, blocking your way.
"you actually think that?" he sneered.
"well it's what you make me think!"
your words made him sigh and he put his hands on your shoulders. "shut up and listen okay? i'm not good at this crap, so just let me talk." he demanded, making you pout, but nod in agreement.
"i like your dumbass and i just don't know any other way to tell you..." he said quietly with bright red ears. you just continued to stare at him, not believing his words, which scared him.
he shook your shoulders slightly, "say something dammit!"
"sorry! i...i just don't know what to say." you said, bring your hands up to your shoulders to grab his and hold them in your own. "but, i like you too. i have liked you for a long time."
after hearing yourself admit you like him out loud, you let go of his hands and brought them to your face to cover your burning cheeks.
he laughed his loud cackle and brought you in for a bear hug, "no way, little buggy actually likes me?" he teased, "i always thought you were scared or somethin'."
"well, i was scared sometimes..." you mumbled.
the two of you continued to embrace each other for a while, silently, until katsuki spoke up. "y'know you're mine now, right buggy?"
your heart fluttered, "only if you're mine too."
"obviously."
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authors note
i lowkey got lazy in the end im sorry if you can tell 😔 but i hope you enjoyed !
taglist for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @b134ch-m4h-ey3z
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atinyniki · 3 days
Text
dear (ex)lover.
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group: stray kids !
pairing: idol!kim seungmin x f!reader
genre: pure angst, letter
warnings + additional info: seungmin is referred to as seungmin and min, seungmin was (and still is) a dick, seungmin is a player, seungmin led reader on, reader reminisces the past, reader blames seungmin for the downfall of their relationship (rightfully so), reader has past trauma from relationships, mentions of waiting till marriage, reader has body image issues, reader has been depressed, reader has trust issues, reader misses seungmin, just a really really sad angsty letter, intended lowercase, written in letter format.
authors note: okay. im so sorry for this... this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)
wc: 1033
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dear lover,
why don’t we talk anymore? i remember, you told me i was your best friend once. i remember, i was your best friend before i was your lover. i understand, your love for me is gone now, but weren’t we supposed to be friends? didn’t you tell me we could go back to the way it was? so why don’t you talk to me? why do you avoid my eyes when you see me? why do you ignore my texts?
why do you only speak to me when it’s convenient for you?
i remember when i first opened up to you, my love. i told you i didn’t fit in with the group. i didn't think you needed me, and i didn’t think the others did either. you told me you didn’t know you needed me until i was in your life. do you still need me? why did you love me like that if you were just going to ghost me in the end? we talked about so much. you bought me my wedding ring. i wore my heart on my sleeve for you. you gave me a promise ring. why did you break your promise? why did you write so many love letters to me, knowing that you were leaving in the end?
what did i do to be treated like this? i should have been better to you, right? it’s my fault, right? i had to have done something… right? what did i do? i can do better, i can. i can be a better friend, i promise. you were my first real friend. you held me when things were hard. i need you to hold me once more. you always did my hair all nice to distract me. i miss when you’d braid it. you even played with my stuffed animals with me. you were the first person who accepted me for me.
why don’t you like me anymore? why am i always the one to approach you? did you only speak to me because i spoke to you first? was this all one-sided and you only spoke to me because i annoyed you till you replied? i didn’t know. i didn’t know that i was being annoying. i didn’t realize it. i thought you wanted me too. i’ve been having nightmares again. you told me you’d be there. it’s funny, isn’t it? you promised you’d always be there, but now you’re the cause of them. you broke my trust. you fucked up, and i forgave you. again and again, i forgave you. i took you back for every mistake you made.
why did you take my heart for granted? why did you break me like this? am i unlovable? did you grow tired of me? could you not stand me anymore like the others? the boys told me what you said about me. what you said about my body. i know i don’t look the same anymore, but can’t you still love me? am i really all that different now? or maybe you just don’t want someone who rots in bed all day. yeah, they told me that part too. maybe you couldn’t deal with my past trauma. i’ve lost people in the past like i lost you before. you told me you wouldn’t leave me. not the way they did, at least. but you did. you left, and you ruined me in the process.
maybe i am unlovable. maybe this was meant to happen. was it for the better? did you mean it when you said you loved me those last nights we spent together? did you find it fun? breaking my heart? was it nice to watch me fall apart that night on my bedroom floor? was it fun to use my own pain against me? was it fun telling me it was my fault? did it take some of your guilt away?
i’m mad at you, still.
but a part of me still loves you. a part of me still wants to forgive you, and i don’t know why. i shouldn’t, i know. you don’t deserve my forgiveness. you don’t deserve anything i have to offer. but i still want to forgive you. i still want to love you like i used to. i still want to tell you that im here for you, and i still want to hold you while we fall asleep. i still want to brush away your tears, and i still want to do your skincare for you. but you’re fading away from my life. i don’t know the person i fell in love with anymore, because they aren’t you. i miss his sweet voice, and i miss his melting touch. i miss the sound of his heartbeat, and i miss his heart. but it’s always going to be you, isn’t it? it’s always been you. you’re the person i love most, but the feelings are fading away too. i want to keep them with me. i want to hold it all so tight that your love can’t escape anymore, but you’re gone. you’re gone, and you took my heart with you.
i’m sorry. was i not good enough for you? i wish i could have been the one for you. i don’t know if i’m allowed to say it, but i miss you, min. i miss our late night laughter, i miss our runs to the coffee shop. i miss the bond we had. where did it go? why am i the only one putting effort into this stupid friendship anymore? why do i always text first? why am i begging for you to love me again?
it’s stupid.
this is stupid.
you’re stupid.
i hate you.
i hate you for using me.
i hate you so much for ruining us.
i hate you for ruining what we had.
i hate you for ruining every memory with you.
i hate you for ruining me for anybody else.
you ruined me.
they’ll never be you.
no one will ever be you.
i hate you, kim seungmin.
i hate you.
i miss you.
i miss you, and i hate it.
i hate it.
i hate you.
i love you, your ex lover.
</3
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gachagen · 2 days
Text
I watched the Arlechinno short animation and wow I have to say that for the first time in a while, Hoyo has managed to really make me interested in a character just by giving me 7 minutes of their backstory. I think part of what makes Arlechinno so interesting is that while she is evil, she only became that way because of the cruel upbringing she had.
When she was a child the Mother she had was not only cruel but with a kind and "caring" facade knowing that in the end her children would have to kill one another for some title. So to rectify this, she became as cold and uncaring as possible when it was her turn to care for the children of the Hearth.
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She never learned the value of loving and caring for people like a real family because that was something that was never given to her. And even in the end she was still forced to fight the only person she was really friends with as a kid. So by all means, it make's perfect sense why she would end up this way as a totally distant father figure who doesn't smile or give her children hugs or who doesn't show them the affection and love that a "mother" would.
To her, those are what lead to the trauma she endured in the first place, and she has replaced them with the complete opposite. I also think that Arlechinno's backstory is a really realistic portrayal of how "hurt people hurt people" in the sense that despite her best efforts to not become like her own demonic evil mother, she became arguably a little bit worse than her anyways because the ideals of the House of the Hearth never actually left her. She probably sees her title as Father as something that was inevitable and unavoidable. A responsibility that has been thrust onto her that she cannot fully give back.
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After she became Father there was nobody else but her, she was a child utterly alone until she was granted another title that entailed a job and security. And when you're alone with nothing else, you really just have to keep going anyways when presented the opportunity to change.
I also think she really liked the idea of becoming a Harbinger because her friend wanted to visit Snezhnaya in the future, so in a sense she is fulfilling the promise she made by seeing the nation with her own eyes.
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This short really puts into perspective what is happening in 4.6 with her and Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. Arlechinno said she'd give up any secret missions in Fontaine in the trailer, but it wasn't under the condition that she be slain in combat. So it seems she's changed the rules entirely of who gets to become "Father" after she retires.
I also think because of the way she worded it, that she might also be leaving the Fatuis entirely to pursue other things because her goal of protecting Fontaine from the curse has already been solved, so there's no real reason for her to continue on with being Father or being The Knave.
While I do think Arlechinno is cruel and evil, I don't think she's the type of villain who would just continue being a Harbinger because she likes chaos and misery. She is a bad guy, but only to a certain extent.
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heartilywrites · 3 days
Text
♡ — To be loved and to be in love ; Korra (p. 2)
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< back to part 1
resume: after three years, it finally was time to talk about those feelings.
content warning: time skip ; fluff ; mentions of Mako and Korra's relationship ; airbender and fem!reader being Tenzin's oldest daughter ; childhood friends to lovers ; no use of y/n ; only description of eye color and maybe hair if you squint enough ;
wc: 2.3k
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As much as you waited for me, I'll never let you go.
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‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Meelo, that's enough! What's that!? IT STINKS!” such a normal day in the temple, the sun was shining on the place, Jinora and you were meditating... Meelo was terrorizing Ikki, as usual.
An exhausted sigh left your mouth before turning to your younger siblings and hit them with an air burst to destabilize them, both fell in their butts confused to what happened. “Can you two be quiet!? We are working here!”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You're not the boss of mine!” the boy exclaimed, your eyes narrowed at him.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh? You wanna go, little man?” not even a step was given from your side before your father stood in front of you and Meelo.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's enough, kids, we have to leave.” Tenzin called you by name to be at his side. “We have to be in the city for the coronation of prince Wu.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright... I need to wear the suit?” you asked walking beside the master, your right hand was raising a little bit the traditional dress you were wearing just in case you stepped on it while going up the stairs.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You do, it shows our changes as a nation.” the older man explained, you nodded after frowning your nose a little bit. You still felt weird about the changes on clothing.
After Korra left for the south, Tenzin had promised that the airbenders would take responsibility and help the people in need while the avatar was recovering in her hometown. The first six months pass and, as promised, you wrote to Korra every single week, telling her about the most important things that happened and some good news in hope that she wouldn't worry of coming back before time. You got letters back responding to yours, not knowing that from all her friends you were the only one she wrote back all that time, because your letters used to help her get through everything.
The first year arrived and Korra changed her writing to you to once a month while you didn't stopped your quantity to her. When the half of the year went by, you got your ceremony naming you an official airbender master and you waited for Korra to show up, but when the day came, your illusions stayed as that: illusions. You were happy, nonetheless, you finally got your tattoos and got the title of master after working so hard for it, but not having the girl your heart loved more than anything by your side on your most important day broke you.
Two years in and the letters got fewer from both sides, you got occupied with the nation while Korra was trying to heal. She was having a hard time by itself, feeling in a bottomless pit, but at the end of each day she used to pull a box with all of your letters and would read it back.
She would laugh at some when something funny or embarrassing happened to you and you would tell her about it, your words of encouragement and how even on ink she could feel your love could turn a bad day into a good one. That's where she realized, she did love you, you were the one all this time, you were right in front of her, but she couldn’t realize in time and she felt so stupid when she realized that. But did you loved her? How could she know if you loved her back? She couldn't base her assumptions on written words, maybe you were just being friendly, maybe be by the time the third year arrived and she almost didn't receive any letter you found someone for you, someone who loved you and treated you well. She couldn’t handle it.
But at the third year of her being gone, your responsibilities just increased. Since you were Tenzin's first born child and you finally got your tattoos, he had told you how you were ready to become one of the next leaders of the air nation, meaning you didn't have the enough time to write her and tell her the good news... or bad news.
And as a leader, it also meant you needed to stay on the island with your father while your three younger siblings went to look for Korra.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's not fair,” you said after you waved them goodbye asking all three to take care of each other. “I should be helping them with the search.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry, kiddo, but I need you here to help us come with a plan against Kuvira.” he said, resting an arm on your shoulders. “They'll find and bring her, be patient, she will be here again.”
You didn't know this, but Tenzin was well aware of your love for Korra. It didn't take a genius to realize how you've been in love with Korra almost your whole life and Tenzin was a very observant parent as well, his theories were confirmed after the avatar's fight against the Red Lotus, but he never pressured you to talk about it, the airbender wanted you to tell him yourself when you were ready to talk about it.
The next couple of days were hell for you, without any way to reach your siblings and asked them how they were doing or any type of news from the southerner, your mind couldn't concentrate.
The one day you went out with Kai to take care of some business designated by your father, you came back to the surprise of one airbender telling you how he was so happy to have Korra back. Your legs ran as fast as they could while you where buttoning your suit from one side, your low bun was loosing its form since the band was slipping down.
At your arrival to the front of the temple you saw everyone reunited giving the avatar a warm welcome, but your eyes were so fixated on the girl that you didn't saw how Jinora and Ikki held hands waiting for the moment they were talking so excited about in the way out. Korra's breath stopped at your sight, you were more beautiful than she remembered; your hair looked a bit longer than before her departure, your grey eyes looked difficult to read and a bit teary-eyed, she even let her eyes wonder on your body as the suit hugged your figure and how could she forget: your tattoos, you were finally an airbending master.
You walked close to her and she called your name in a sigh, it took you a second to threw yourself at her to hug her so tight as your arms allowed you, wanting to have her as close as the anatomy allowed you.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I missed you so much.” you began, while trying to catch your breath, she smiled big and hide her face in the crook of your neck, letting you feel goosebumps at the air she breath out. “I'm so glad you're back.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sorry.” she whispered against your skin, she stayed there for one more moment, breathing in your scent before taking a step back from you. “I missed you too... But now I'm back and we can catch up.”
A tiny smile appeared on your face while your eyes were delighting themselves with Korra's features. Her gaze looked darker, some eye bags underneath them and... she cut her hair shorter. “You look so gorgeous with your hair short.”
Her cheeks changed colors at the compliment, your two sisters squeaked at your back and at that moment you remembered how everyone was still witnessing the encounter. “Thank you, you look so pretty with the tattoos and your long hair. I'm so happy you finally are a master, you deserved it.” now it was your turn to blush.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Alright, kiddos, how about taking Korra back to her room so she can freshen up?” you heard Tenzin say, thanking the spirits he intervened. “Everyone has chores to do and Korra has friends to catch up with.”
After Korra's arrival, you felt as if you could breath again. You didn't realize how much you could miss someone's presence until she was ripped away from you without any warning whatsoever. But now that that was over, you two started to get as closer as when you were when little.
Even when great problems were upon everyone, Korra and you found time at night to chat again to catch up; she had asked you to move to her room with the excuse that it would be easier to talk and gossip at the end of each day, and how could you say no to that? You would tell her about your new responsibilities and how it was scary at some point to become a leader of a whole nation and she would tell you about everything she went through the months she disappeared from everyone. As one would, you got concerned about her not being able to go into the avatar state again and would advise her a couple of things, she was grateful for that. She couldn't be more grateful to have you back on her side, she needed you more than anything.
A night before the evacuation of the city took place, Korra was sitting down watching you braid your hair as you did almost every night. “You look so pretty.”
Your hands stopped and your eyes looked back at her, a big smile formed in your face while your cheeks adopted a light pink color in them. “Thank you...” you could only whisper back, timidly. The southerner licked her lips before gathering strength to keep talking.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Listen, I know this isn't the right time since we are about to go to war with a crazy metalbender,” you giggled at that, paying your whole attention to the girl once your hairstyle was done. “But in all those years in the south, I couldn't stop thinking about you.”
Your heart stopped at the way she said the last sentence, with such caution and care, looking at you and your reaction.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Your letters were the only thing keeping me with hope, I would read them every night without missing one...” she continued, her fingers were moving nervously. “And in all this time I've hit rock-bottom as I never did before, but somehow the mere thought of you made me want to keep going.”
...Was this going where you thought it was going?
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You've been my best friend for so long now that I can't remember a day when I was a kid where you weren't there with me and I can't imagine a life without you by my side.” she stepped up from her bed and walked to yours, making your heart race when she sat so close. “You were the only one sticking by my side all this time, in my highs and lows, comforting me each time I needed without asking anything in return or giving me a lecture while helping me to get better when I made mistakes instead of judging me for it and you have no idea how thankful I am with you for that.”
Korra's hands looked for yours, feeling warm when they found them and she smiled.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It took me so long to realize this that it's absurd how I couldn't pinpoint it in the past and instead I was covering it up with an stupid excuse, but I love you. I have loved you since we were kids and it took me being away from you to realize that it was love what I felt for you.” your heart dropped, a big smile started to form in your face at those words.
Before she could continue or ask you anything, your lips met hers in a soft kiss, taking the girl by surprise but being quick to melt in the gesture. You distanced after a couple of seconds, giggling when she followed your lips.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Does that mean you love me too?” she asked in a whisper on your lips.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Oh, no, I just love kissing my friends to reinforce our friendship.” you responded sarcastically, Korra rolled her eyes in a lighthearted way. “Of course I love you, loser, I meant to tell you years ago when you moved to the city.”
She frowned confused. “Why didn't you?”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You were so interested in Mako that I distanced myself to not watch you being with him.” you tell, her eyes opened realizing how that was the reason why you left. “That's why I also didn’t went in a bunch of your journeys... I couldn't stand to see you with him.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wait... When you came back him and I were over, I thought you distanced because you didn’t like me as a friend anymore.” now you raised your eyebrows. “So...”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “We are idiots.” you declared holding back a laugh.
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You should've followed Pema's advice on love, you know?” now you did laugh, letting your forehead rest in her shoulder. “It would've worked on me too, I'm just saying.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Dear spirits, shut up, let's... Okay, we'll sort this out after the battle, mhm? We need to stay focus.” Korra smiled flirty at you. “Time to sleep, go.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Can I sleep with you? That's what girlfriends do.” your whole face turned red, the southerner left a quick kiss on your cheek before leading you to lie down next to her. “We'll talk about this after defeating that dumbass.”
‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And you'll ask me out properly.” you finished while settling however you could in the bed. Both hearts jumping happy at finally having the answer of their dilemmas: their feelings were reciprocated.
You were one battle away to live the life that only in dreams appeared and you surely would fight to have it with Korra.
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nightgoodomens · 3 days
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I'd like to say the whole "stop projecting" thing GT's fans are saying makes no sense to me. recognizing signs of a relationship being toxic because you've been in the same situation isn't necessarily projection - it can be sometimes if it's about a random thing that happened once, but not when a bunch of people agree on it and it's happening repeatedly.
the whole "humble him publicly" thing happening repeatedly is genuinely very awful, especially when the other person does not use social media. and knowing david is suffering from imposter syndrome, I really can't see how someone can see that and insist that it's a harmless joke. one time, sure, it could be passed as a harmless joke, but it stops being harmless after a while.
anyway sorry for the rant and sorry if it has been said before I'm just really annoyed seeing people purposefully turn a blind eye. I get it if it's because they don't want to assume anything because they don't feel like it's their place, but actively denying it to say that this is a loving relationship... why
Yep. I was reading a conversation between people saying that this kind of “jokes” were made at them by their abusive partners, I don’t think they were even shippers, just noticing that GT’s “jokes” stopped being funny a long time ago especially with how bad her timing is nowadays and the intensity of them - and it pained me to see them being told to not project. Just laugh it off because otherwise the conversation gets uncomfortable and we don’t like that…
There is a huge difference between projecting and noticing signs. I also think that people hear the word abuse and automatically think of a monster who’d do such horrible things to their partner that they’d be obvious and visible to the eye. Emotional abuse is often invisible but a thing too. Sometimes a very subtle one yet it hits harder than people think. Sometimes it’s just those little jokes to keep you humble so you’re never confident enough to leave - sadly classic abuse. Sometimes it’s those little jokes to make that person doubt themselves enough to stay low because the abuser is jealous. It’s such a subtle way to chip away someone’s confidence to make them easier to manipulate. Sometimes the abuser is just a bit of a twat who doesn’t realise what they’re doing is harmful - but when someone tells them to stop - it is important what their response is - and what does it mean when they carry on anyway?
It is worrying to me that people in this fandom are so easy to diss and harass people who simply say “this is not ok”. The moment you say something wasn’t right, fans will jump to your throat that this is the best relationship ever and it’s pure love and they’re like this and so it’s fine. They’re still married and have kids so see it is love - well fuck me divorce lawyers are scratching their heads. Funny thing is, DT doesn’t play along, spoke up frustrated before, spoke about how she speaks to him, their child called her a creep… so why the assumption that he’s so absolutely cool with it? When he’s not even on socials to bite back so all she does is patronise him to the public? Instead he’s always an utmost gentleman?
My general advice is this - when someone, in real life, hints to you that something is wrong or your gut feeling tells you that something is wrong, especially if you had awful experience yourself… listen to it. A lot of horrible things happened when people turned a blind eye.
Edit: They have no problem assuming the best about these relationships, you’re just not allowed to assume anything that’s not the perfect image.
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Giggling because I love making post with multiple character tags and then wait for the wrong face to be featured on all the tags ksksksks
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This sydney looks soooo sillyyyy
Anw I just thought about my past so story time under the cut.
When I was in secondary school, I once knew a friend who was bullied.
For the context, it was a decent school, with 4 grades, each had 4 classes: A for lower-perform and naughty students, B for normal, C for better than average, and D for the Elites who will most definitely have bright future ahead. We are Asian children, study means EVERYTHING for us. Our worth are defined by how well we perform in school, how many awards we have and how good our grades are.
That friend was in class C. I was in class B. Normally we don't make friends outside of the class, but I once saw him being poured water on in the hallway, defended him and we became friends. Or something like that. Let's call him Z because I forgor his name now.
My parents didn't do well with the fact that I failed my entrance test and was stuck in normal class. They didn't have money to upgrade me to class C either, so they made me study extra hard. Back since I started going to school, I was being teased and harassed a lot too cuz I love to draw (what's the problem of kids being mean to artistic kids btw???). But since I was one of the best performers in study, I soon gained some respect and the soft bully subside. (I was terrible in math, but everything else were straight A okay??)
Z wasn't so lucky. I learned that his grades were terrible eventhough he was in class C. He stuttered a lot, always looks down when talking to people, never dare to engage in any conversation, etc... His appearance did not help, and he had some funny smell when I stood close to him. One thing though, he loved drawing too (urgh artistic kids again) and really admired my skill. The only times he would smile are when we talked about our fav anime. Looking back, I think maybe he had something to do with autism? I can't be sure though, but I know his parents spent a LOT to keep him in that better-than-average-class.
The bully was not too terrible, at least from what I saw and heard. He often got splashed by water, threw dirty rag or left-over food at, made fun of, laughed at, his belongings often went missing and be found somewhere dirty, etc... I used to went through all that too, so I helped him to somehow deal with them. Those sort of soft-physical bully were nothing scary once you got used to them. Just a little annoying. He got used to it too, I think, and we didn't mention those when we talk. I admit I might had some savior complex, and that friendship is not entirely friendly. It was more like I thought he would be helpless without me so I can't leave him alone.
And then one day when I was going home from school, Z approached me and asked if I want to go to his house. He said he has a very big greenhouse, and there were some pretty blooming flowers he wanted to show me. I never saw a greenhouse before and I love flowers, of course I said yes!
We rode our bicycles to his house. I've never been to his house before nor meet his parents. I didn't even ask my mom for permission to go but well, I was excited.
We went for a long time, and I started to realize he was leading me into the forest. I still went with him for maybe half an hour more, before I said I was tired and you didn't tell me your house would be this far. Then I look around and truly there was nothing bu trees surrounded the two of us. He looked back at me, clearly exhausted too, and said nothing. I started to realize the situation I was in: a 12 years old, in a forest, with no directions and a strange friend who I didn't really know. Yeh atm I was pretty scared.
I asked Z again where exactly is his house. He stuttered and said I don't need to worry, we would get there very soon. He said if I was too tired I can hop on his bike and he would get me there. Then he attempted to take my hand but that creeped me out so I stepped away from him. I turned my bike, ignored his calls, and just went as fast as I can toward the direction I thought would lead me out of the woods. He called out to me and began to chase after me too, but gave up after some times.
I then just rode my bike with full speed, somehow got out of the woods into a strange road I didn't know, asked around for direction and got home safe. My mom scolded me for being so damn late and I apologized. I never tell anybody, and never talk to Z ever again. He didn't bother me either. And that's the end of the story.
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Every day I wake up and think about the fact that Tsumiki so underutilised by the jjk narrative. We see Gojo as a teenager simply not care about non sorcerers. For him all sorcerers are weak so its not like there is a distinction between them and non sorcerers, and we don’t see him being wngry with Suguru specifically because he killed people. He’s distraught and betrayed because Suguru is leaving him behind and he had no idea
I know I sound like a broken record but Tsumiki could have been what made him go from not caring about non shamans to actually developing some degree of care. The reason its hard to understand his morals is because we dont actually see his change from a teenager to adult. We see him, as an adult, care about keeping non sorceres alive if he can, but without the reason its easy to misunderstand. Tsumiki, who’s kind but brave and responsible and taking care of both herself and her brother, and Gojo who has no idea how to take care of kids, and then he starts feeling FeLiNgS about those same kids is such a good fucking plot point that could have been made. We are so robbed. It would have made so much sense for Gojo, after learning to care about Tsumiki and Megumi, to oppose Geto. He doesnt want all non sorcerers dead not only because its dump and cruel but also because he has a personal stake in this now. Dont even get me started on the way this also could be link to the whole thing of him telling Sukuna he’ll teach him how to love. You know, like Tsumiki did before. Oh im so insane. Tsumiki could have been everything
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lanalvrr · 2 days
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Lost Letters to a lover
Part 1
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Annie Hamilton was Marge's best friend. Currently, they were both saying goodbye to Gale Cleven, also known as buck. It was crowded, people all around saying goodbye to their loved ones. Lots of wives sobbing into their husband's chests begging them to stay alive, many girlfriends, and some parents. Annie was looking around as Marge was doing what most other girls were doing, crying. Annie felt bad, but as she looked around, she noticed a man, a very attractive man, standing alone. No one was saying goodbye or hugging him , she was surprised he didn't have a wife with him. She knew no one was there for him because the men were about to leave and everyone had just arrived. She noticed he was looking around as well, and then they happened to lock eyes. Something about the way he looked at her made her cheeks feel hot. He then smiled and winked at her before turning away and getting on the train.
John egan was waiting for buck as he was saying goodbye to his girl, Marge. No one came and said good bye to him. He looked around for buck then locking eyes with a gorgeous woman. She was beautiful. She had brown shoulder length hair, captivating brown eyes, and red lipstick that matched her perfectly. He smiled at the woman and winked. Knowing he would never see her again made him want her. He didn't even know her name. But yet he was in a trance he needed to know who this woman was. He noticed how she was with buck and Marge. Buck had to have known her.
Once all the men were on the train John had asked for all the details on her. Buck was confused he knew that bucky never wrote to anyone so why did he need all this info.
He found out her name was Annie Hamilton. He liked the way her name rolled of his young. He also found out her and Marge were bestfriends, she was going to college to be a am elementary teacher, and she was 23.
Once Annie and Marge got back to the college, Marge was acting weird. "Why are you acting so weird?" Marge laughed and said "oh nothing just something buck had said." Annie was confused " and your laughing about it now?" Marge laughed and went to change for bed.
That night buck was sitting in his cot and began to write
Dear Annie
You may not know me but my name is John Egan. I saw you today, with Marge and Buck. I must say you are very Beautiful, you have a face hard to forget. I barely know you but I am already in love. Buck told me all I needed to know that you were and amazing woman.
If you wish to not write me back just know you will never leave my mind.
-Major John Egan
About a week later Annie received the letter, she immediately knew who sent it and that made her happy. The man at the train station. The one with no one to say good bye to. She was definitely writing back.
Dear Major John Egan,
Your letter was greatly received and I will say it made me wish I could see your face again. I might have to ask Marge about you to see if your an amazing man.
I noticed you had no one to say goodbye to. Know that I am with you John, I will pray you make it back from you missions every time. I would like to get to know you better. For now I'll start, I don't know how much buck had said about me but I'll take a wild guess. I'm 23, I Major in elementary education, I wish to be a teacher, I love kids, some day I wish to have one of my own, and I also wish to help in the war somehow.
Marge says to volunteer as a flight nurse, but I am far to scared to go up in the those planes. Tomorrow I'm going to put my name on the list to be a nurse. I hope it wont interfere with letters I wish to send to you.
With love Annie
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Dear Annie,
I hope you like the photo I added in this letter, you said you wished to see my face again. The camera buck took this photo on was horrible, he took when I wasn't looking. I was also only 22 in the photo. As long as you like the photo than I do too. But I hope that means I get a photo in return, for a Goodluck charm. Your beauty will get me through these missions.
Our base is low on nurses but my guess is they will put you on some base far away. You will probably go with a large group of woman also volunteering.
Since you want to know about me, I'm 24, I'm a major, Major John Egan, and I also wish to have a child some day.
- John egan
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Dear John Egan
Your photo has captured everything I remember seeing a month ago. With that I hope you like mine. Me and marges highschool class didn't do senior photos, so we did them for college senior year.
By time this letter reaches you I will probably be on a train going to the base where I have been placed. I will most likely be nervous, not knowing anyone. I will still write to you.
With love, Annie
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Part 2
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gunsandspaceships · 2 days
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Tony’s Childhood. Part 2.1. Effects: Own Will
Before this part, be sure to read Part 1.
If you're not aware of Tony's strange understanding of the importance of his own wants and needs, check out this post from daydreamsandnightlights.
Here I will try to explain the roots of this behavior.
At age 4 Tony built his first circuit board (IM1)
At age 6 built his first engine (IM1)
Let's think about what it meant that he built all these things at such an early age. Was this his own or his father's will?
Let’s take Morgan for comparison – she is indeed a brilliant kid too, since at the age of 5 she can count up to 3000 (ordinary kids count up to 1000 at the age of 8), knows how much is in a ton, what “disintegrate” means and can easily manipulate her dad, a genius.
Looking at Morgan's behavior, we can assume that she is already capable of building a circuit board under the guidance of her father. But she doesn't. Because her father does not demand this from her. She is a kid. She plays with plush dogs and beavers, sleds on Captain America’s shield, and likes to have bedtime stories read to her before bed. She sneaks into her father’s garage because there are interesting things inside that she can take and play with, not to build something and add it to the list of impressive achievements.
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The question is: did Tony want to create things because he liked it, or because his father did it and wanted his son to do the same?
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We know that Howard had plans for Tony to "change the world" with Howard's ideas about the future. Apparently, he was preparing Tony for this purpose.
Do small children have a desire to tinker and build things? Some yes. Do they want to or should they play with cubes and constructor sets? Yes. Do they want to or should they work with real motorcycle engines and soldering irons? Hell no. They usually don't have the appropriate motor skills to do this, so they can easily hurt themselves. I'll talk more about this later when I discuss his pain tolerance.
I think it’s impossible to say now whether Tony was interested in engineering from that age (I mean sincere desire, not ability). So we cannot answer that question. But I doubt 4-year-old Tony realized what he was doing when building computer parts. He liked it though. Because those were probably the only times he spent time with his father.
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Howard continued to deny his son his will when Tony was sent to boarding school when Tony was 7 years old. There he had a regulated, planned life for 7 years. Then college for another 7. And then became the youngest CEO at 21. None of this sounds like a child’s “I did what I wanted”.
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He did not express his will but pleased others. Because this way he received a little love. Or a substitute for love, to be precise. And when, perhaps for the first time, he was taken care of by Yinsen, who saved him, even in such a terrible way, and died for him, he was incredibly grateful. And after that, his attitude towards people changed.
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But not the attitude of people towards him, since they continued to want something from him, expecting the same behavior that they were used to seeing from the “rich and famous”.
*Doesn’t want to celebrate his birthday with a bunch of strangers in his house? Wants to spend his last days with the woman he loves? DENIED*
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*Needs psychological support from people he trusts? DENIED*
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*Wants to save the team from a breakup because he cares and knows what’s coming? DENIED*
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Conclusion: Tony didn't belong to himself his whole life. He didn’t use to defend his own, laid deep within, interests. First, his will was moved aside by his father’s. Then Stane’s and the public’s. Fury then came with his Initiative without asking what Tony wanted. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. came to him (not) asking to find Tesseract and save the world. Then the whole team came. Then the government with its Accords, and so on and so forth. None of them bothered to ask, “What do you want, Tony?”. And the only times he insisted on something, were the times when he tried to keep the team together and prevent their death.
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milogreer · 19 hours
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so uhh this is gonna be scatterbrained. but i'm gonna ramble about milo and (what little info we have on) colm. sorry in advance if it doesn’t make sense i just had to exorcise this demon 🫡
i believe "camping with your alpha boyfriend (2021)" is the earliest mention of colm in an audio. obviously we don't actually know milo's side of things because it's told from david's POV, but we still get the mental image of little thirteen year old milo sitting shotgun in his dad's pickup as they drive to their camping spot. gabe's goofing around in the truck bed to make david and asher laugh, and colm joins in the fun by swerving the truck to mess with gabe. very basic dad thing to do, my dad's done the exact same thing to me and my siblings. it feels familiar and silly, and david frames it as a good memory, so it feels like a good memory. which is important to the point of this post
in "celebrating the new house (2022)," we get a little more colm lore:
My dad was forever blowing any cash he made on fucking bets and gambling and shit, chasing some fucking high. My mom was the only reason we didn’t end up out on the fucking street. He didn’t pull his head out of his ass and get some help until after I’d already moved out. So I never got to have that feeling of being in a house that was actually ours, ya know?
already this is a stark contrast to what we've previously heard of colm (i don't think there's any real mention of him between sept 2021 and dec 2022?) and it kinda makes me look at that old memory in a different light, especially with regards to david saying marie was "nagging [colm's] ear off about being irresponsible and a bad example." like. ykwim? like i'm just thinking about that interaction and wondering how far along those problems were at the time, if they were present at all. was this a normal, fun family outing? or would milo have rather been in the truck bed with david, asher, and gabe?
(and the fact that it wasn't until after milo moved out that colm tried getting any help?? i could make a whole other post speculating about milo struggling with wanting to move out of that environment ASAP vs not wanting to leave marie on her own to deal with colm)
so then i'm re-listening to "your werewolf boyfriend is worried about you" and having a visceral reaction to (re-)learning that colm was also an alcoholic:
But what he chose to do with that frustration and that feeling of powerlessness was not his job’s fault, those were his choices. He’s the one who decided to lose himself in booze and gambling and never being home. Never being there for the people he said he loved but apparently couldn’t stand to be around.
the last sentence especially is just an absolute heartbreaker because milo's, what, thirty now? and he's been dealing with this since he was a kid. clearly he's not on great terms with colm. the only times he ever talks about him is when he's shit talking the department. that is a crazy weight for someone to carry their whole life. i don't have experience with the gambling side but i do have an alcoholic family member who i used to be really close to as a kid but grew up to intensely resent as a result of his actions, so it hits a little close to home to see that reflected in milo
but i digress. umm. i bring up the camping story to highlight the most recent mention of colm from milo and how there were good times and sometimes maybe it hurts to remember them when the person involved devastated you as you grew up because they weren't what you thought they were. and how these things follow you through life and impact how you approach certain things. milo has to live with the fact that the same system that royally fucked colm is potentially going to do the same thing to the love of his life; i never drink more than one shot or half a beer, if i drink at all, and i don't like being around drunk people. even though we don't hear about colm very often, his influence is still there whenever milo has to deal with the department in any way
anyway i guess TLDR; imagine living the majority of your thirty years of life feeling like your dad couldn't stand to be around you because he was too busy drinking himself stupid and gambling away every penny he had as a way to deal with the strain that his job put on him. imagine having to witness your mom struggle constantly to keep you cared for. imagine the few good childhood memories you have with your dad being overshadowed by thinking he didn't love you or your mom enough to change. imagine watching the department run your soulmate into the dirt physically and mentally the same way it did your father and wanting to be supportive of them but also being so worried for them. it's a really interesting situation for him to be in and i enjoy it but it hurts me. the end
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staenless · 1 day
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Milsiril being postboxed into Kabrus adopted mom whos dehumanising shortlived races by adopting them and infantalising them makes me fucking miserable.
Here is a woman who was bullied her whole life, born in a long line of military hero's who after seeing the oppression of shortlived races by elves as well as the dismissal of their deaths withdraws from her military role, withdraws from her family and dedicates her life to creating a safe and comfortable environment for the shortlived race children who's parents are lost due to the elves inaction and oppression of said shortlived races.
Sure she's not the best at it, yeah she kinda bulldozed whatever the kids probably wanted in favour of putting them in bubble wrap and keeping them safe. But she's clearly trying to give them better lives than the ones they had, which she clearly feels responsible for ruining because of her races actions. When Kabru tells her his honest dream of destroying a dungeon she challenges him, she makes him work to prove himself and then she let's him pursue that dream. She, like every other character in the manga, is flawed in her views and her expression of said views to others, but that doesn't maker her a bad person. It just means she still has some learning and growing to do, and considering how much she still loves Kabru and feels responsible for his safety and happiness I have no doubt post manga she probably will learn to help shortlived races in a more constructive way through her involvement with Kabru in the Golden kingdom.
I think she's a genuinly interesting character and I wish people would take the time to consider her story and it's parallels to the real world (first worlders adopting third world children in hopes of giving them a better life but often inadvertently alienating them from their own culture through their own lack of understanding of those children's pasts and lives. As someone who lives in a third world country talking to people from first world countries is like talking to aliens sometimes and I think the discussion that could be had around Kabru and Milsiril could be genuinly interesting but everyone just wants to hate on her without genuinly considering her character and the impacts she's had on the story and opportunities for further character growth.... Milsiril save me.... Save me nuanced discussion....)
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honourablejester · 3 days
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Talking to my sister, we were remembering the clapping games we used to play as kids. This was mostly in the country school, now that I think of it I don’t think they were played in the town school as much. Though that could also have been because we were older when we went there. But you know those games kids play where you have to clap a sequence while saying a rhyme? Sometimes individually, often in pairs, and then there were group games?
This would have been small town Ireland in the 90s, but the ones I remember …
'Double Double' was a really easy one for pairs. “Double double this this, double double that that, double this double that, double double this that!” You stand facing each other, and on ‘double’ you bring both fists to their fists, on ‘this’ you bring palms to palms, and on ‘that’ you bring the backs of your hands to the backs of their hands. The aim is to repeat the sequence, getting faster all the time, until somebody messes up. It was fun because you started out raising both fists at each other for ‘double double’, like you’re about to start a fist fight (which was not unknown to happen).
Then there’s ‘Under the Bam Bush’, again for pairs. I can’t remember the clap sequence for this one. I can remember most of the rhyme and the rhythm: “Under the bam bush, under the sea, boom boom boom. True love for you my darling, true love for me. When we get married, we shall have a family. A boy for you, a girl for me, how many fishes in the sea? Twelve and twelve is twenty four, kick the teacher out the door. If she knocks, give her a box, and then she’ll have the chicken pox!” I know it had a more complicated sequence, cross claps and over-unders, but I can’t for the life of me remember how it went.
We also had ‘Miss Mary Mack’, which had you alternating clapping your own hands and double high fiving your partner, and then when words repeated you repeated the high fives. “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, All dressed in black, black black, with silver buttons, buttons, buttons, all down her back, back back …”
And, when you had a LOT of people together, there was always ‘Concentration’. Basically, everyone in the group got a number, one to seven or twelve or however many you had. The rhythm was two claps of your hands, two claps on your thighs, rinse and repeat, and everyone kept up this rhythm. You spoke on the hand claps, the thigh claps gave the next person time to prepare. “Concentration! (beat beat) Are you ready? (beat beat) If so! (beat beat) Let’s go! (beat beat) One to six! (beat beat) Six to three! (beat beat)” etc. It started with person one, and on your handclapped beats, you called out who had to pick up after you. They had the thigh beats to get ready, and then on their turn they had to call out a different number. People were eliminated if they didn’t answer to their number or didn’t call out a viable number on their turn. So as you went you had to keep track of which numbers were still in the game, and be ready to call them out the instant your turn came.
Concentration’s really only good if you have a big group. Like, minimum of five/six, but honestly you wanted around ten to fourteen for a proper game. It gets really boring when it’s just ‘One to two!’ ‘Two to one!’ ad nauseum at the end.
I always wonder if these are still going. They are a lot of fun.
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dangermousie · 14 hours
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Ep 6 is just aaaa! She's auctioned off and the narrative literally drags him away from saving her (right after he sees her scar which means she's the girl who saved him when he was a kid) and only lets him come back too late, when it looks like she's been raped by the dude who bought her.
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Gotta love a ML who believes in violence. He starts beating up the man and I went "but why is the dude not stirring, are they too lazy to pay the man to flail around?" Just you wait.
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Also, I get shock and trauma can change a person, but she's being out of character saintly for the heroine so far. But I was rolling with it.
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And then she's all "can you take me in for the night" and he princess carries her off, all consumed with guilt.
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She tries to commit suicide very showily and once again I went "weren't they just mocking characters who keep threatening things instead of just doing them as being fakers? Also, since when is ANYTHING enough to break her enough for a suicide attempt?" But once again, short drama, I was rolling with it.
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He's a murderer and a torturer but also a feminist.
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This is telling (and you can actually see her think to her own mother saying she's a princess first and her own person second, quite a contrast - and that is the one time I think she's genuinely moved.)
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And he takes the knife away.
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He also asks about the scar (which is how he recognized her as his savior) and she's all "I had it since childhood, why?" And I went "huh, isn't it supposed to be her half sister who saved him/has a scar, why the inconsistency." And then we get this, and all the seeming flaws with the writing are the opposite aaaa!
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Insane, ballsy woman gave herself that scar so he'd think she was the one who saved him and glom on to her, because this will help her fight against fate. OMG. And oh, she was not raped - she knew something weird in the narrative was coming so she had knockout stuff and knocked out her would-be rapist, smeared her make up etc and pretended to be raped to make ML feel guilt for letting his savior suffer. OMG THIS WOMAN MY HAT IS OFF OFF OFF!!!!
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Normally those who fight against fate and/or narrative are good people. I love it when they are not.
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