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maxivstappen · 3 months ago

Note

congrats on 1k again mel 🤍 i'm so proud of u!!

i'm requesting for ur event: the lyrics "you make me wanna fall in love" from "juno" by sabrina, and the driver is oscar piastri

౨ৎ MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ‧˚. OP81

౨ৎ PART OF MY 1K EVENT & my short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

summary — you said it was casual, but you both knew it wasn’t. he liked to tell people that he’s certainly not in love with you, so maybe you just had to make him fall in love.

a/n — thank you so much for your constant support ml🥹 im not too happy with how this turned out, but i hope you enjoy reading anyway <3 based on the song ‚juno’ by sab!

warnings — kinda smutty?? jealous!oscar, making out, very suggestive, hints of angst, english isn’t my first language, not proofread

It really wasn’t your fault.

You decided to keep it casual as to not get him into any drama, so that people know his focus was keen on racing - becoming a world champion and whatnot - and also for your sake, because the hate, if you weren’t used to it, really could become unbearable, and the last thing Oscar wanted was for you to have to deal with any of that, you were just way too precious to him for that. So the decision was made. No strings attached.

Stupid, right? No strings attached is something to settle on before being all the way into it. Because at that point of your relationship, there was no way to keep it casual anymore. The only way was to take a few things that had been said two or three times too often back. To leave it all behind and really only do those things for ‚urgent needs‘ . No more spending the night or cooking together or meeting up without the friend group or sneaking away from said friend group just so he could finally rip the dress you had been teasing him with all night right off of you. But he had other plans, he seemed to just keep going with it. Telling you how much he missed you every time he was back from the long weekends, repeating the same three words over and over again as he makes his way down your thighs, kissing every clothed and unclothed spot he could reach from under you.

The first time it happened it was simply an accident, at least that’s what you told everyone. At least that’s what you told yourselves. But your touch and perfume still lingered even after a week, so the next time you saw each other at a birthday party of one of your mutual friends, Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off you either. Confessions of being attracted were spoken out loud and the only thing keeping you from taking it farther was nothing more than a mental holdback. You were scared of the public. He was scared to see you hurt because of that.

After a weekend during summer break spent together you asked him to finally decide on where to go on from this. He blurted out that he’s not in love, so there was no reason for things to get complicated. Your breath hitched. Casual hookups was what he said. Friends with benefits, you chuckled, seemingly angreeing with him as to not make this situation any weirder, even if it hurt just a tiny bit. But he was right. You had a different idea of a perfect life than he had. Racing was his passion, being in the spotlight was part of the sport, and you couldn’t even handle having to hold presentations in class because you hated being the center of attention. You two were just too different.

So yes. It is his fault! Because if he’s really, after all these lovey-dovey moment shared, still not in love — like you admittedly were — then he should stop acting like he did. Why would he get you flowers every few weeks? Why would he gift you a whole vacation with your best friend including hotel, trips and things a sane person wouldn’t even ask for for your birthday, and the rest of your friends would only get a normal birthday card and occasionally whatever small thing they had wished for? If you were really just casual, then why did he treat you as if none of this was ever just casual at all? Why did he treat you like his girlfriend if he so confidently stated that he’s not in love with you just months ago?

He couldn’t expect you not to want him to fall for you too if he was the one who made you fall for him in the first place. As if the “casual” sex wasn’t enough already, he just had to do the most romantic shit for you as to not let you get over him at all. He wanted to play with your head, he made it obvious. Too many mixed signs, too many actions done but too little words said. Lucky for you and for him, two can play the game.

If he was sooo sure he’s not in love with you, which he just had to be, maybe you just had to make him realize his loss if he ever lost you. You had to make sure he knew that you were desired also by men who weren’t him, and since it‘s his fault you fell for him in the first place, he should be the one who has to face he consequences of not loving you back.

In other words, a little jealousy clearly wouldn’t hurt him.

You were getting ready in the bathroom of your apartment together with your best friend, “juno“ by Sabrina Carpenter playing in the background while you gossiped about whatever came to mind — including Oscar and you. It was a secret to everybody else, but not to her. She was the one you cried to after Oscar told you he didn’t have feelings for you.

You finished up your makeup with some lipgloss, and once you were final,y content with your accessories and outfits, you made your way over to your friend’s, jack’s, birthday. Everybody was there, including Oscar. And Lando. His only ally and his biggest rival. If that didn’t make him crack, then nothing would, but you decided to try, at least. Lando and you got along alright already when you had only just met, and he was the first man to point out that Oscar and you aren’t just friends, right?

So when you suddenly put your hand on his arm, slowly rubbing up and down his biceps, he was confused at first, and then caught up on your quick nod in Oscar‘s direction while holding eye contact with him. Lando didn’t mean to do him any harm, but as much as he loved his teammate, he would never be one to turn down an opportunity to mess with him like this, especially not if he knew it would, at last, make Oscar snap so he didn‘t have to listen to his hopeless whining about his relationship with you being oh so complicated. Just ball up and confess, man.

It was innocent at first. Just simple touches, your hand on his chest for just a tiny second because you needed something to steady yourself on as your reached behind him to grab your drink from the small table the couch stood in front of, or his arm around your waist when you all stood next to each other to take a round of shots. Lando was certainly amused and your best friend was winking and giggling at you the whole night, seemingly loving your plan, because Oscar was definitely reacting.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch that smug look right off of Lando‘s face. How dare he touch you when he knew that Oscar, his own teammate, loved you?

Oscar thought it was better like this. Playing pretend instead of facing the truth, and he was pretty damn good at doing so. He was sure you believed him when he said that he doesn‘t want your relationship to include anything other than moments of lust, he thought it was easier that way. He thought it would make things less complicated, thought he could live his life without having to put you in any danger, live his life without needing you by his side every second of his damned life if he just put some boundaries. Surprise! It only made things worse, plus apparently, guys seemed to think you were available now, thought they could have you like only he can. And it made him fucking furious.

So when you stood up to pour yourself another drink in the kitchen, he followed, of course not before shooting the other driver for McLaren a death glare. Lando sighed and leanded back in his seat, happy to see your man finally making a real move. He hoped so, at least. Oscar closed the door after entering. It was only you two now.

“Fancy another beer?“ You asked calmly, but the feeling in your stomach was far from calm. This could end in complete rejection, maybe he could see right through your façade and thought you were childish for doing this? But how could you not?! Oscar himself made you do it with his mix of signs every damn time you saw each other!

He shook his head.

The tension between you was palpable as he watched your every move, back turned to him. You felt awkward, but tried to ignore it. The light was dim, and you could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor and the walls coming from the speakers in the living room. Was music this loud even allowed at this hour?

You finished pouring yourself some more champagne when you saw him walking over to you in the reflection of the glass cupboard in front of you. You sucked in a breath, not daring to say anything, feeling slightly hazy from the alcohol you‘ve drunken in the past few hours already. His cologne became starker as he stepped closer to you, eyes closed as you let the familiar smell of him take over you completely. You only opened them again once you realized he caged you between himself and the counter, pressing himself against your behind. He started softly kissing down your neck behind your ear, almost tickling you with how light his lips felt against your hot skin. You wanted this, you wanted him. But his touch wasn’t nearly enough, you wanted all of him, and not just his body. Every yet so little interaction you had during the evening left you with butterflies going crazy in your tummy, yet he never seemed affected, not until Lando came into view. Did he really only want your body and not more?

“What were you doing with him, y/n?”

Nothing but a moan left your mouth as he gently bit into your skin, sucking on your sweet spot as you subconsciously rubbed up against him. You didn’t even want to reply, you just wanted him to keep caressing your skin with his mouth. “Tell me what you were doing with Lando, huh, baby? What were you thinking?”

“Oscar I-“

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he whispered as he made his way down your back and then back up your shoulder, kissing and mouthing at every spot. Thankfully your best friend had convinced you to wear the backless top, you thought.

You huffed. This felt so humiliating, but you couldn’t keep going like this, not when he makes you feel like this and then leaves like nothing ever happened. You lived a lie and it was time to stop.

“I was trying to make you jealous so that you would finally stop and do something!”

Oscar’s furrowed his eyebrows and stopped in his tracks, hands still on you. What were you talking about The tension came crashing down onto your body once again, his doing not distracting you anymore. You seemed to want to have this conversation, and Oscar could easily put some of his lust away in moments like these. You didn’t get a reply, the cue for you to turn around and face him. You were still caged between him and the counter, his hands steady on either side of you now as he leaned down to look at you. you couldn’t focus like this, not with him so close to you and with the alcohol running through your body like blood. You looked up at him with doe eyes, prettily batting your lashes even if your mascara was slightly smudged already.

“Stop what? Talk to me, please. I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he looked concerned. Worried even, worried about what he might have done wrong. He wanted to be with you, keep you as his, so why would you want to stop being exactly that?

“Why don‘t you love me?“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes. You hated it, but it was inevitable. The confrontation was overwhelming you anyway, and being under the influence managed to make it a lot worse. Your hands were all shaky and so was your every breath as you anticipated his reaction, expecting rejection but still hoping for more.

“I- What? Why would you think that?“

“Maybe because you literally said so?“

“Uhm, okay fair point. Listen y/n,“ he sighed, and you could practically hear your heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. He thought for a second, but didn‘t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed your face and kissed you like never before, he kissed you with more than just passion, he kissed you with love. his fingers wiped away a tear that had rolled down your face, kissing and holding you as gently as he could. “Don‘t cry on me, y/n, please don‘t,“ he begged as he now kissed down your cleavage, leaving lovebites on your collarbones. “Was just being stupid, didn‘t wanna hurt you baby, thought long distance is too hard,“ he said something, anything to make you understand that the only reason he didn’t confess was because he was scared of his life not being compatible with yours, and not because he didn’t love you.

You smiled into the kiss once he reached your lips again. You‘d have to talk about it more tomorrow morning after taking some aspirin, you knew, after all, that you‘d go back home with him. It wasn‘t enough to make it official, you weren‘t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you finally had the guarantee that he felt the same way, that he loved you just like you did him.

Oscar swore himself at that exact moment, when he felt you smiling while his lips were dancing against yours, that he would never make you feel so unloved again. It wasn’t his intention in the first place, but seeing your beautiful eyes filled with tears because of him made his heart shatter, and he never wants to see you like that again, not if he was the reason for your pain. And even though you did have to make him realize through making him jealous, you certainly didn’t have to make him fall in love with you.

Because he already was.

౨ৎ general taglist / sns taglist ::

@norrisdriver / @1655clean

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

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bother figures * fem!driver

being the designated baby sister of the grid by default is never as easy as you think it would be

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver

warnings: ugh annoying men

notes: this is hardly funny but like i've had to take inspiration from my bother-less life rn so i'm like rly going through it rn LMFAO and it's almost 5am here but as far as i'm concerned, it is night time somewhere so teCHNICALLY i'm not late to an update!

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

in the almost empty room, she sits in the corner seat as she taps away on her phone a message to reply to her siblings' group chat. she had arrived early for the driver's briefing and decided to take solace in the corner with a cup of hot chocolate.

she was enjoying the peace and serenity with the soft chatter in the background as she tried to lock herself in for the race weekend. that was until she felt a presence looming behind her with an aura she couldn't possibly ignore.

she slowly lifts her head up with a mean glare. she turns her head and meets max's blue eyes and sly grin. "what'cha doin'?"

she puts her phone on her lap as a scowl replaces her dead expression. "what do you want?"

"what are you doing?"

"does it hurt you when you see me and like... not do anything to annoy me?"

"yes, actually. i like talking to you."

"i just wanted to talk to ciara."

"now you can talk to me."

"but i don't really feel like doing that."

"why not? i'm here in front of you and not behind a phone screen. where's ciara?" he looks around, then at her with a beaming smile. "oh, would you look at that? not here."

"because she isn't an f1 driver."

"still not here to talk to you and provide you the joys of interacting with somebody face to face."

"max."

"(y/n)."

"times like these i remember you've got a younger sister."

"what's that got to do with anything?"

"you've mastered the practice of being annoying growing up, obviously. you're such a pro at it."

"how can you say that?" max cries, hand on his chest to feign hurt over her words. "i'm not annoying. please take that back!"

"you realise you made me stop my conversation with my lovely sisters because you saw me sitting alone."

max reaches out and pinches her cheek, grinning when blood rushes to her cheeks. "you were just looking a little lonely. just wanted to make you feel a little accommodated to, that's all."

she stares at him, lips pressed together. "okay, that's actually pretty sweet. i kinda feel bad now.”

“and you should!” max frowns, folding his arms over his chest. he leans back into his seat and rests one leg over the other. “you’re mean, you know?”

“i’m an oldest sister.”

“i’m an oldest brother.”

“i have three younger siblings that made me wanna shave my head bald.”

“that’s kinda crazy.”

“i know,” she sighs tiredly. but she smiles slightly. “but it’s kinda nice. with oscar and logan taking over those responsibilities growing up, we never had a moment of boredom at home.”

“cute!” max smiles. “if i lived with you growing up, you might’ve actually run away for good.”

“i could run away for good now if you’d like.”

“seb wouldn’t like that.”

“you’d have to deal with it. i’ll leave a note on my team’s fridge with your name on it.”

“you need to put the reason underneath. if not, your team will think you’re just naming the most handsomest driver on the grid,” max shakes his head in disappointment. “don’t wanna give off the wrong idea, you know?”

“if you say ‘handsomest’, it doesn’t need a ‘most’ before it,” she says, lips parted slightly at the atrocious grammar. if there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s most definitely the reigning world champion making simply grammar mistakes. “you should get more sleep.”

“i do! i slept like 10 hours last night!”

“somehow i find that hard to believe with the bags under your eyes.”

“what are you two bickering about?” a hand lands itself on the back of her chair. carlos stands next to her with one hand on his hip. “i could hear you from the hallways.”

“damn, you should really keep it down, max,” she chuckles, sending him a shocked look before she clasps her hands together and rests it on her stomach. “you’re too loud.”

“i’m sure he meant you. you like… swallowed a mic as a kid,” max scoffs. he looks up at carlos. “tell me she was louder than me.”

carlos sighs. “you were loud on the same level, i believe.”

"see? i told you."

"you're moving in with logan?" alex's jaw drops, the tiktok video no his phone left to play on repeat as the younger girl dropped the news that logan's moving into her apartment. "mate, what?"

she looks up at him with a confused stare. "what?"

"i thought you said you didn't want people talking about you like that?" alex asks, raising an eyebrow. "people will definitely talk if you move in with a man."

she presses her lips together. "you've got a point, i suppose. but logan's my best friend. we've been talking about moving in together forever! since i was 15!"

"i'm just looking out for you, kid. you should really think this through," alex sighs as he slumps his shoulders. of course, he knows just how close she and logan are on a day-to-day basis. but people tend to be quite ruthless with women and he just can't see this going any other way. "you know how people are."

she sighs, shaking her head. "i don't know. i just don't think people would pay attention to that aspect of my life. i still deserve to make decisions that wouldn't be at risk of scrutiny, right?"

she takes a step forward towards alex. she hadn't exactly thought of the public implications that this would cause her. all she knew was that they'd talked about this for years and were ecstatic when logan shyly brought up their conversation from years ago.

"that's the basic that we all hope for," alex frowns. "but you know how people are. you've seen how they treat you just being here. imagine the chaos."

"maybe i'll just keep it under wraps and hope for the best," she suggests with a small smile on her face. "that could work, right? i don't wanna have to put down something i spent forever talking about."

"if you can keep it under wraps, i applaud you," alex smiles, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "and i thought you've had enough of men - why are you still moving in with one?"

"to save money, really," she smiles. "and with kidnapper and stubby at home... i think living with another person is best."

"but doesn't logan like dogs more?"

"yeah, but kidnapper's taken a very weird liking to him. he doesn't wanna admit, but i know logan really likes kidnapper a lot."

"typical logan, really."

"you'd be surprised how much feelings that loser's holding in."

"oh?" alex smiles mischievously. "tell me more?"

"nice try," she scoffs with an eye roll. "i'm not spilling the beans about logan's love life. that's lore you've got to unlock the longer you race with him. just hope he's feeling friendly enough to share, yes?"

"so true," alex frowns. "but what if he's not friendly enough? means you are my only source for material to piss him off with. so, 'fess up!"

"can't betray my best friend like that, i fear," she frowns. though, her smile grows slowly. "but i can be bribed."

a scowl carves her face as she stares at the roll-in whiteboard with pictures held up against it with sesame street magnets. she sinks into the plastic chair she's given and tilts her head at the men gathered around her.

"and that's why i think you should get the same car as me," lando says simply, recapping the marker in his hands. he turns to her with a proud smile after his presentation.

her lips part. "so that we can matchy and..."

"and fuel rumours," lando repeats. "i'm involved in too little drama this year. it's always 'no wins' this, and 'no podiums' that... i want more."

"that's not a very good argument," she answers slowly, confusion contorting her face that almost makes alex laugh. "i said that i want an easy car, not a supercar. i've made that clear to almost everyone on the grid, yes?"

"yeah, but like," lando whines, throwing his head back as he stomps a foot into the ground. "seriously? you can't do this one thing for me? i'm asking you a favour!"

"to spend big money on a supercar i have to drive like it's made of glass!" she laughs dryly, hands thrown in the air in disbelief. she looks around at the men that have forcefully pulled her out of her garage and put her in this private room, in this plastic chair when she could've been taking a power nap. "is this what i'm here for? you lot are trying to convince me to finally purchase a car?"

"as per logan's request," alex shrugs, sipping on his juice box. "he said you've been putting it off all year. the season's about to end."

"and you listened to that nonce?" she cries, pinching the bridge of her nose. "you guys are absolutely unbelievable. i can't believe i'm wasting my time here!"

george, sitting next to her with a picture in hand, points at the whiteboard timidly. "i really put in a lot of thought about a car you should get," he says softly, looking slightly disappointed that she's caught on a lot faster than they predicted. "can i at least show it to you? i don't have to present."

"aw, george," she sighs, shaking her head. "it's not another supercar, is it?"

"it's not, i promise!" he perks up with a small smile on his face. he turns to lando with a small scowl. "only lando did this presentation with his best interests in mind. alex and i took the task seriously - just hear us out!"

she looks between george and alex, contemplating if the brit is telling the truth. instead of getting up like she had initially planned, she leans back into her seat. "fine. if it's anything like lando's, i'm leaving immediately. i don't care who has yet to present."

"but this ferrari looks so pretty," charles frowns, turning the picture in his hand to show it to her. "it's matte black and all. i thought we could match."

"that is also a supercar."

"he's presenting last, so i really don't care what he says," george mutters, shoving lando away from the whiteboard. he picks up a big bird magnet and pastes his picture between lando and max's proposal. "so, i think you should get this super cute toyota car."

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

#alex albon x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

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running-on-coffee-and-anxiety · 9 months ago

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Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dannyphantom #danny phantom headcanon

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reds-skull · 21 days ago

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CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

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pushingdaisies1 · 4 months ago

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Nasty Dog . . . ♡ ↳ (part two of ''kinda hate you - kinda love you")

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x "X-Man" Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY-> You kept on replaying that moment with Logan in your mind. Something small definitely put you on one hell of a roll. It made you think a lot more about what you two shared. Especially if it was even something to hold on to as much as you did. Antagonizing him over breakfast about how much of a show-off he can get, he complies to help you with your class. Specifically when he overhears you talking about your lesson plans. Hand-to-hand combat and you need another demonstrator? Sign him up big time.

(✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> hi party people!! gonna make this part short so I don't fill half of this post with my yapping. like I've repeated over the last two(?) , tysm for all of the love. its funny x-men has reignited my writing hehe haha. i wanna write for logan more nd also do professor x?? james mcavoy my love? anyways , u and logan are so weird I'm loving it so hard. also might open up requests for x-men so I can write for the whole bunch. ESPECIALLY lolo , the honey badger of my eye 100%. Hope you enjoy and comment if you'd like to be on a taglist for my works!! (most likely will be doing a lot of x-men stuff until I run out of ideas.)

(✧ ˚.) CWS (?)-> again this is supposed to take place within the context of X-Men 97/X-Men animated series , second person pov , descriptions of combat/sparring, kinda alluded to you two being fwb?? lowkey more complicated but, YALL DONT FUCK SRRY but definitely some suggestiveness , you and Logan kiss n argue and not so makeup so idrk if that counts for hurt/kinda comfort???..

Like the night before that, you were pacing back and forth around your room. The place you would stay most of the time if you ever even had a day off. On your nearby desk would lay students' reports. Ranging on physical fitness and endurance, health studies, and so on.

Ororo sat crisscrossed on your bed as she watched you. Her expression was grim as she looked down into her tea. She was originally planning to go to bed. Though you came to her with troubles plaguing you. X-Men are like family to one another, so she spared you her time. Your worrying made more sense once you gave her the slightly skimmed-over details. You left bits and pieces out of the story for your own sake.

“So he.. and then you…?” She questioned, voice low and face absent in thought as she cringed in realization. You quickly nodded as you held your hands to your face embarrassed. "I know Ororo! It's really ... really bad." Storm couldn't help but crack a small chuckle seeing how frazzled you were over Wolverine. It looked like there was smoke coming right out of your ears with how huffy and puffy you were. "Wow, breath for me. The only thing you should be passing out onto is your bed, not the floor." She assured as she set her cup aside on your nightstand. She got up to look at you face to face. Gently taking your face in her hands. The most, and I mean the most you told Storm was a very cut-down version of the story. Nothing about the nights you were whisked away into his room. How you two used each other consensually as another body to rip into and hold when nights got long.

It's not like you two had nothing. There was a spark undeniably there. But to you, it felt like his eyes would always be for Jean. It's not like you couldn't see why he was infatuated with the redhead. You've known her long enough to know that she would always stick things through with Scott.

Logan was always a fan of the hunt, you were like a place where he could bury his bones. You were familiar, you never had plans to leave his side.

Besides, for the sake of your affair with Logan, it was best not to complicate things. That was before he decided to throw out some choice words. Words that made your chest tighten and sweat rise through the roof. She rubbed under your eyes with her thumb as she guided you to look back at her. "Whatever you and Logan have going on is truly none of my business. Nor the team's business at all." She explained, hearing her speak was so calming. Her tone was always so smooth almost ethereal. "As your friend and your sister, I can't sway your hand either." From the day she arrived in the mansion, Ororo was like your constant. You relied on your friends sure. But like her and Jeans shared kinship, you had something similar with her. Which is why it hurt even more with your dilemma. "Logan is not a perfect man. I know you are stronger than this. You know what's good for you. The X-Men will always have your interests at heart, yes. But it's you who has to make this call." She hummed as she leaned her forehead against yours. "Sadly the ones we yearn for sometimes, or even will always have their heart set on another. You are better than that. You and him can mess, sure. But one day it will end and he'll go back to pining over our Jean." She spoke sweetly with a sympathetic smile. She was right like always.

She looked at you once more, forehead still against yours. "It is you who has to move on to someone who will put you into perspective."

A comforting embrace from Ororo absorbed you. It felt as if you were embraced by the world. Clinging onto her tight, she stopped the storm weathering inside of you. Gently rubbing your back she'd let the silence ruminate inside of your bedroom for a while. "Take some time dearest, maybe speak to him if you can." She murmured into your hair. "Maybe you two just need some needed distance? Because he's definitely missing out on one extraordinary creature." A small smirk grew onto her features as she separated your hug, you complying of course. "All I know is that you deserve whatever honesty you can squeeze out of that man." She acknowledged with the smile you always related to hope. Ororo was your consciousness, she was pretty much one of the most level-headed of your team. You thanked the fate that brought Ororo into existence. Without her words of real wisdom, you would still be spiraling in your bed like a clown. "Thank your Ororo, truly I do mean it." You spoke with a humble smile as she chuckled softly. "We're family, I'll always guide you by any means necessary." She replied, giving you one final look of affirmation before reaching the door. She opened it gently, letting the air open it wider before her eyes wandered to you one last time. "Sleep well, don't let yourself run mad because of him." She purred, leaving you alone. You stood there with yourself. Sucking in a breath of air you knew what was needed. The haze in your continuous stream of thought cleared. With one more look around at your walls, your eyes turned to your bed. You fell right in under your warm and fuzzy blankets. You were practically knocked out as soon as your head filled the pillow. Tomorrow you should be fine, tomorrow will be a better day. Quickly night turned to day. You were awoken by the sound of the students playing on the nearby basketball court down below. Your shoulders eased some more once you saw the empty hall in front of you. No one to interrupt your morning stroll down to the kitchen, where you knew by now someone had to be in there. You quickly jostled yourself down the stairs as soon as you caught a whiff of food. By just a tiny sniff you knew it was Gambit cooking. Your stomach cheered and roared as you rounded the hallway. Coming into the kitchen, Gambit was already dishing some of his beignets up. His hair was up and swooped as he wore a cropped t-shirt, with a colorful display of artwork on it that you didn't really want to decipher. Surprisingly it was a pretty quiet morning. But then you realized why when looking at the clock. The biggest surprise was that even Gambit was up this early. Scott too, as he was sat down with a newspaper on and his regular shades. Gambit swung around seeing you, fresh beignet in hand. "Cher, good morning to you!" he greeted you with a sing-song tune. He stopped at no time dishing up the last batch. You cracked a sleepy grin as you rubbed one of your eyes. "Am I in heaven? I don't think I've ever seen you whip something up this early." You joked as you found a seat at the table. "Gambit is in a good mood this wonderful day, no?" He purred as he smacked on his final touches. Scott looked up from the paper with an eye roll. Only noticeable with the way his head tilted. "He accidentally charged his alarm clock, woke me and Jean up." He snickered, taking another sip of his mug. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filled the air. If you had no self-restraint, he'd be having to remake that entire batch after five minutes.

"Alarm clock? I thought you said Gambit works on his own time?" You turned to Gambit with a raised brow as he leaned against the island counter. He looked away with a small smirk gracing his lips. "I listened to the missus." He shrugged carelessly as you couldn't help but hold back a laugh. His and Rogue's back and forth always made your mornings lighter. Soon the kitchen filled with everyone else. Jean happily greeted Scott with a kiss on the cheek, sucking your wandering eyes into conversation. Rogue soon followed, coming into the kitchen and stretching like a cat. Gambit was already climbing up her tree, given their whole "deal." Their coy and flirtatious banter always brought a smile to your lips , making you get all idealistic-y.

Jubilee and Storm were one of the last to follow. Jubilee of course decided to sleep in late, what teenagers do. Storm explained her absence due to deep talks with the professor.

She especially looked at you with a kind-eyed smile, peacefully soaking in the team's chatter as she too gathered herself food. Jubilee clung to you the entire breakfast. Not like at your hip, but you were one of the ones she got close to immediately. It made sense and you didn't mind her popping into your meal to ask about how this all was supposed to work. "I thought since I'm an X-Man, I didn't really have to DO school here?" She thought aloud, beignet and soft blueberries halfway in her mouth. You answered her question swiftly, relishing in your thirst diminishing.

"It's different since you are still a kid." You hummed, taking the last bites of your plate. "Besides, the extra training besides just on-the-field stuff could help. Danger room drills aren't the only thing a young X-Man like yourself should be going over."

She sighed while resting her chin on her knuckles. "I know, just feels so bogous!" She scoffed playfully, serving herself a big bite of food. Your heart rate was exhilarated by some once you heard Storm greet Logan a "Good Morning." The two of you haven't spoken much to each other. Outside of short-term missions and war room meetings. You weren't surprised when the both of you so quickly made and lost eye contact. He grumbled in response, you weren't surprised. You could hear his confused murmuring as he rummaged for a cup. You spoke up from where you sat at the table. "On the counter, got bored, and knew you would be hankering for a pick me up." You turned back to face him in your chair. You were even taken surprised that you made the first "move." In response, he flashed you a toothy grin. "Looks like someone kissing ass this morning." He gruffly spoke, making up his own hefty plate.

As usual, the professor stayed off in his study. Everyone at the table talked amongst themselves. You couldn't remember how you and Logan started pestering one another. No shocker Gambit with a shit-eating grin amped up the bragging. One minute it was lesson plans, another it was Logan talking about how he could easily show you up during your lesson. Chest puffed, his arms crossed somewhat. He picked scraps out from in between his teeth using a free claw. It gleamed in the shimmering sunlight escaping into the room as his mouth continued to run. "Come on! I'm always the one saving your ass." He chuckled with grit as he finally was able to get out of a piece of that egg. "The other way around Grandpa." You snickered with your teeth on full display. Jean tried to put a stop to your and Logan's childish spat. If you could even call it that. One remark after another and soon he was agreeing to help you in the dangeroom later on in the day. Just your luck, it was foolish to even think this would have no hiccups. You passed through the day doing regular tasks. When the professor wasn't alert about any new trouble, or the school wasn't in shreds it was pretty peaceful.

You spent your time diligently working over those same tasks you despised when you had your hunger for excitement. The quietness around the school was comforting.

Time swept you away before you could realize it was time for your class. Young mutants swarmed into your room, chipper and excited for what today brought. You never expected to enjoy teaching this much. Quickly as the chatterboxes chattered, you soon quieted down the bunch. Greeting your students, you stood up from behind your desk. Rounding up to the front to address the entire room. Diligently you went over the topic for today's lesson. Today it was time to focus on hand-to-hand sparring. Being a mutant did mean having powers at whoever's disposal. But just in case the situation arose of being unable to use those powers, there was always a "plan b" needed at the ready. Most of the students were either paying attention first row or loosely clueing into what was planned for the hour. You didn't really mind, hearing a teacher talk no matter how vibrant they were would never stop being annoying. In the middle of your rapid explanation, you were interrupted by the door swinging open. No thanks to a lot of the doors in the school being a lot more noisy. In the doorway stood Logan, posture steady. With the amount of flannels he wore you wouldn't be surprised to see them being eighty percent of his closet. "I was needed, so here I am." He announced with a bitter sound as he cleared his throat. His arms fell to the side of him almost like he was showing himself off. You immediately perked up as you forgot one small detail. "I forgot to mention, everyone to the danger room!" You instructed as your hands gestured to the doors. Soon bodies started to move as Logan sauntered up towards you. His hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Y'know, I'm gonna kick your ass demonstration or not." He blabbed with that same stupid smirk on his face. You always wanted to wipe it straight off of his face. You turned to him with a pointed look as you whispered to him a threat. Less of a threat and more of an invitation. "Oh sure, missed you pinning me down. Forgot how your hands felt." You hummed before pushing past him. It was only you two, as by now most of their students were already making their way towards or were already in the danger room. Faintly you could hear the slightesting crackling of a chuckle from him. You were going to wipe the floor with his stupid hair.

Finally, everyone was inside and ready. You made sure to wrap your hands since you and Logan were sparring. Given that it was only for demonstrating purposes. But if you really tried, packing a punch into Logan was a lot harder than expected. Can't forget the metal skeleton that lay behind that stupidly handsome rugged jaw.

You paired students off to see how they worked without any use of their powers or special abilities. As a sort of example to anyone up next. After a small mistake by two of some students, you brushed them aside without any pestering. They tried, but maybe now that teacher example should be coming in handy.

Setting up the room, you sequenced it before rushing downstairs to the room itself. Of course, Logan ran right in behind you. "Now - me and mister Howlett are going to give a demonstration. Please watch as that'll be needed for anyone else I haven't sent in yet." Finally, the command commenced as the room quickly shifted into place. It was the simple danger room. White walls and white flooring are suddenly the only things around you two. Finding your stance you stared Logan down. He, not surprisingly, brought back that same sort of fervor and even more. Fists were up and it was time to fight. It was like two predators trying to dominate the other into becoming their respective prey. Your fighting styles clashed in the best of ways. You were quiet when it came to making the first attack. You knew how to be stealthy on your feet. Especially quick when diverting oncoming attacks from enemies. Logan was very abrasive especially when it came to how he attacked opponents. Run in first and think about the consequences later. Quickly you were able to ambush him. Throwing him for a loop once the bottom of your feet met his backside. It was like landing on solid ground. He groaned as he fell back, but that smirk still lay smeared on his lips.

You knew his weak spots and he was the same. Every single point, the two of you could find without even a poorly timed guess. For only a demonstration you two went at it for a while. His knuckles met your frame and so did yours. It was a dance of dominance, as old as time still stands. You soon did realize how much time your sparring was stretching. You still needed to at least have four or more students go up. By the time you two escaped each other's limbs as you had him pinned to the floor only just moments ago, you looked up to see your students.

Some were either paying attention or again, too absorbed in the conversation other classmates were having. Jubilee stood there a little bit taken aback by how you and Logan went at each other. I mean that was brutal but was the huffing and puffing needed? You two looked as if you were about to do the finishing blow to another. "Alright!" You said with an exhale. "Now use that when going head to head with your partner. Treat them as a peer but also as another fighter. Going against a fellow student doesn't mean you cant test out what you learned." You threw out teacher voice , quickly announcing which kids were next. You and Logan made your way back to the observational area of the danger room. The ascend back up was pretty quiet between the both of you. It was the same when you made your way back up and observed the rest of the class.

Soon enough you dismissed your students. Then there was only two , you and Logan. You stood there looking over the empty dome down below you. Logan soon walked up behind you.

Silence was never you shared kind of vibe. So you were somewhat joyous when he snuck a small kiss from you. Pecking the nearest edge of your lips , you came back at him with an embrace of those same lips.

Hungry and desperate like the usual. Internally you fought with yourself. You and Logan as companions and friends didn’t make things any easier. This sneaking around made you feel dirty. You didn’t want to be second pick.

It was you who stopped the exchange. Logan looked back at you with a blank expression. He couldn’t deny that the consistent dynamic between you two did make him guilty. He respected you tons but Jean would always be something he could never get his hands on. Some bastardoues part of him knew he liked that cat and mouse game. He would always wait for her , you and him were a different story.

“I can’t Logan.” You mumbled as your limb’s disconnected once again for good this time. This time it wasn’t with such passion. “This , us , I can’t do this anymore.”

His blank expression stayed as he almost barked out. “What do you mean? Yah never really said anything before, this makes no sense.” He rasped as his throat cleared a little.

The way his hazel eyes looked back at yours was a sight to see.

“I don’t like this charade. I like you but.. this thrill is gone.” You sucked in a breath as you stood apart now. “I mean I don’t just like you. What I feel for you is like nothing I’ve felt for another man. But here you are , waiting like a frail dog for Jean to finally drop Scott.”

He scoffed almost in your face. A part of him knew his yearning for Jean was pathetic. That he didn’t have a chance ever with her. Almost like she subconsciously infected his thoughts with only her. He knew though that it was just him being a fool , for you and for a woman that would never truly reciprocate his affections.

“You should have just said that , bub. I didn’t mean to waste your time parading around like a joke.” He shook his head , hands going deep into his pockets just like how he arrived. He slowly started to walk away. Bordering on leaving , finally you were honest.

“I love you Logan! There I said it!” You shouted , hiccuping like an idiot as you held your chest. That same flustered sensation spread throughout your lungs. “I’ve been in love with you ever since the night we made this stupid thing official. Ever since I felt your lips on mine.” You gritted out , fate was twisting your hand.

“But I respect myself too much to be so blind. I respect you too much to let us do this back and forth. I want something real with you. I want your words of praise to mean something. I don’t want these lies , I want you to love me. Because I do , and this whole poor man’s game of checkers deal isn’t what I want.” All of the hot air was gushing out of you as you went on and on about how you were internally struggling.

He looked back at you for a good minute. Burning silence was in the air. Before he spoke the word that stabbed you right in the heart.

“It’ll pass.” Then soon after he left you alone. In a puddle of your own feelings. You crumbled to the floor like a child. You held yourself up as you wiped your eyes of any free falling tears. You hated that someone so flip floppy with your feelings made you like this.

The heart of a lover was now eaten in two. Now it was your turn to piece yourself back together. With gritted teeth you got up a while later and collected yourself.

You would always be his fool. That was the worst thing about your desire for the Wolverines affection. Just the corner of your heart set for him was now bruised and battered.

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 (im so sorry if the ending feels rushed , i was in the mood for Logan angst 😔)

TAGLIST:

@pussy-f41ry @weallhaveadestiny @malfoys-demigod @dojacatswink @keenchaosdonut @emilyprentiss06 @honda-odyssey-fucks-hard @sl4sh3r

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kayentokk · 1 year ago

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Easy Peasy Sukuna Squeezey(Part 1);A Lot More Ice Cream

Pairing;Sukuna x Fem! Reader

Summary;Sukuna always knows what to do when you’re upset, but this time he thinks he’s gonna need a lot more ice cream to fix the problem.

Contains;feelings, some sadness, cheating mentions, angst kinda (not in a death way), comfort(Sukuna comfort), 🥹

wc; 1,261

A/N;uhmmm y’all I think imma make this a series. Cuz I wanna drag it out and I have more ideas for this storyline, so bear with me. And I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Series M.list Next

The smell coming from inside was musk, and humid. You could feel it radiating through the door. You knew this was coming, hell this is what you came over here for. But it still hurts like a bitch to know your boyfriend, ex, is in the middle of sex with one of your mutual, ex, friends.

You were tipped off today by one of your ex’s friends, the only reason he told you was because quote unquote he “can give you a better time than that prick.” At the time you thought, he’s probably not wrong, maybe you’ll even take him up on the offer after this. That’s not likely though. You’re just, rightfully so, in your feelings and feeling angry about the whole situation.

You still wanted to see for yourself though, so you went to his apartment. You quietly unlocked the door and turned the knob, you just needed to know for yourself. You didn’t want to be privy or see the adulterous, disgusting act.

As if the clothes, that obviously belonged to him and his little- thing, that were in a trail leading to the bedroom weren’t enough, a loud, keening, high-pitched whine was let out. You didn’t need to see or hear anymore, that was enough.

You had tried to tried mentally prepare yourself before you got there, deciding to walk there for the commute instead of driving because you could clear your head better, but nothing prepares you for betrayal. And this was betrayal at its finest.

You placed the keys on the counter, opened the door, and slammed it shut loudly on your way out. You were hoping to startle them, but you’d be long gone before they got a clue.

You didn’t want to go home, so you didn’t. It’s not like you had anything waiting on you there, besides the memories that were once happy of you and him. And that’s just depressing.

After walking for a while, you noticed where you were headed. Sukuna’s house. It was only natural to want to go there. Sukuna is your best friend, of sorts. You guys grew up together, you went to the same schools your whole life, and your mothers were best friends. So you guys were destined to be close in some way.

You stopped yourself right across the street from his complex. All the intrusive thoughts immediately rolled in, what if he has girls over? Or he’s having a party? Or maybe he’s not home? M-maybe he doesn’t want to-

“Hey,” a gruff voice greets you.

It’s Sukuna.

He’s in his car, the windows are rolled down and the music is low so that you can hear him, he has a couple of bags in the front seat, he must have just been returning from somewhere.

“Hellooo? Earth to y/n?”

You snapped out of it, “hey,” you greet him lowly.

“Were you coming to see me?,” he asks reaching for his phone from his back pocket, “I didn’t think I got a message from you.”

“You didn’t. I didn’t know I was coming here either to be honest.”

“Oh…well, are you gonna get in or what? It’s freezing outside and you’re letting all my heat out of the window you psycho.”

It’s cold? Yeah, it is the middle of winter. You hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it. He moved the bags to the backseat without even having to get out of the car, the perks of having long arms, and you got in. It was warm, and your fingers started to defrost.

He parked the car in his designated spot, and you went to get out of the car but not before he stopped you by grabbing the hood of your coat. You turned your head and looked at him. His bright garnet eyes were piercing right through you, and you wanted to break. You wanted to crumble and cry and scream, you hate that look. Like he knows something is wrong.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong? or we jus’ not gonna talk today?”

Your lip quivers and at that small twitch Sukuna’s face drops. The normal irritated grimace that dawns his face is replaced with something else, something you’ve never seen before. It’s almost a saddening expression, it doesn’t suit Sukuna at all, you think.

In all the years you guys have been with each other, Sukuna thinks, he’s never seen you look so delicate or fragile. He’s seen you cry over getting a “boo-boo” or “ouchie” when you were small, he’s seen you cry over being reprimanded, hell he’s even seen you cry during your period, but all those things he could fix. A bandaid, a cookies and cream waffle cone, and a movie. Easy peasy, Sukuna squeezey. But a part of him felt like this ouchie would be harder to fix if he could fix it at all.

“He cheated ‘kuna,” you spoke plainly. It was harder to admit than you thought. You immediately felt repulsed from it.

He didn’t know what to say, he was in utter shock and he wanted to kill the dirty bastard. How could he? You devoted yourself to him and you cared and treated him with all the kindness in your heart. Sukuna was so enraged and he also felt….sad? This wasn’t the usual agitated feeling he got when you were upset, this was different. He knew this was different. You weren’t even crying yet, just sitting silently in pure consciousness.

You didn’t really want to talk about it if you’re being honest. Your boyfriend-ex, cheated on you. What else was there to say about it? But the silence was killing you.

“You could say something y’know,” you sniffled bringing a hand up to rub your nose. “It’s more embarrassing if you don’t,” you chuckled dryly.

Sukuna, however, didn’t find it funny. Nothing about this was funny. And it was becoming apparent to him, that he’d need a lot more ice cream.

What do you want him to say though? If he told you he’d kill him that wouldn’t solve the issue or lessen your hurt, If he acts out of character and said sorry you’d just think he’s taking pity on you and he knows you hate that.

So Sukuna does what he knows best, he “ignores” it. When you were both in your adolescent stage and you were mad at him about something harsh that he probably said that’s what he did.

He’d still talk to you even if you were ignoring him, which pissed him the hell off by the way, he’d do anything you wanted. And eventually you’d forget why you were mad at him in the first place, it was his way of apologizing. That was the only way he knew how to treat you without you feeling like he’s pitying you.

So he turns off the car, gets out, grabs the bags he put in the back seat, and when he sees you’re still in the car he gives you a nod and says, “come on, we don’t want you to freeze do we?” And you smile, it’s only a fragment of what it normally is, but you smile. And Sukuna feels relief, of course if you wanted to talk about it he’d listen. But right now, it’s freezing outside and he doesn’t think a car is the right place to have that conversation. All the people passing by while you’re hyperventilating and crying over your jerk of an ex is not exactly what you want to happen either.

So you follow him into the apartment.

@/cafekitsune for the divider

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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if i had a gun cowboy like me chapter 12.5 (joel's pov)

long-awaited, pain-packed, and sealed with a bow by yours truly. i love y'all. thank you for being so patient and kind with me on this one. this chapter is joel's experience of the end of illicit affairs and all of hits different. you might wanna check those chapters out before you indulge in the angst-fest that is this one. hope you enjoy 🧡

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: walk a mile in joel miller's shoes. see if you'd do anything different

warnings: more heartache, more angst, lois, alcohol + drug consumption, mention of reader being roofied, very brief mention of joel punching knox, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 9.8k

terrible news! there is no more taglist! make sure you're following @macfroglets w notifs on if you wanna be buzzed when i post 🤍

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.” It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks – “Where is she?” “We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –” “’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

You’re still fast asleep when he lifts his head.

You’ve had this argument plenty before. I do not snore. Yes, baby, you do. I’ve heard you. I don’t! It’s alright, it’s okay that you do. It’s a cute snore. Joel, I don’t fucking –

Right now, he’s pretty certain you’re snoring. He just wishes you were awake to hear yourself.

He thinks about pulling his phone, taking a video so that once you’re up, you can hear the little bursts of air, the tiny rasps from your nostrils as you snooze. But if he ever did record anything like that – just like the Hillcrest pictures, until you’d found them last night – he’d keep it for himself. Wouldn’t offer it up so easily.

Just something for him to have, for all the time he spends without you.

Your hair’s still all over the place. Tangled in Joel’s right arm, still smelling of chlorine and sex. Your head rests softly on the crook of his elbow like it’s a pillow; your lips and eyes are puffy, tired. You have this ridiculously strong vice grip on his left arm; during the night he felt you wrap your wrists around it and pull it into your chest, tucking it gently under your chin until your entire upper half was drowned in his.

His chest snug against your back, his arms encasing you safely, and his hips…his hips lined with yours. His now semi-hard cock buried between your legs – he’d slept inside you last night, and it was like, after forty-eight years, someone finally took him by the shoulders and said: This is how you do it. This is how you rest.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, soon as his eyes fell shut. He stirred only to feel you maneuvering his arm, and then fell straight back asleep.

He felt comfortable. He felt safe. Big, old, tough guy Joel Miller. Never let anybody in since Sarah’s mom left. Alone for almost seventeen years, and fine with it. His cheeks heat at the idea of needing – of wanting to feel that. Safe. But then you came along, and he realized he’d been waiting his whole life to feel it. Didn’t even notice he’d been missing it.

That’s how these things go, right? Can’t miss what you don’t have, and all that.

But now he has it. Now he has you.

And you make him feel things he’s never felt before, or if he has, it was so fucking long ago that he’s forgotten. You drive him fucking insane. Keep him up at night, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. Make him do stuff that his reflection glares at him over. Are you being serious right now? Make him…different. New.

The night before last, when he’d picked you up from Frank’s after rodeo night, he promised to make you a big breakfast in the morning. Compensation for not swinging by McDonald’s on the way home. But then your dad called, and you had to take off before Joel had even properly woken up.

When he eventually rose from the bed, he went straight to the store. Stocked up on eggs, flour, sugar, bananas. He’d printed a recipe from his computer while you were gone. Marked the items off as he meandered through the store. Stood for ten minutes deliberating over which gluten-free flour would be best, before an assistant asked if he needed any help.

I’m good, he muttered, and then, as the kid wandered off, cleared his throat and said, Actually –

Greg – the kid assistant in question – had suggested the red bag. Said it’s corn flour, instead of wheat. Joel can’t pronounce the brand name. He just knows it’s tucked behind a box of cereal in the cupboard downstairs – he hid it there so you wouldn’t find it and snuff out his plan.

His plan, which he now has to put into action. Without waking you. He’d lie here forever just staring at you, if he hadn’t sworn to himself to make good on his promise and cook you some damn pancakes.

So he slowly pulls his left hand from between yours, loosening your death grip, and steals it back across your waist. He does the same for his right arm – more careful, though, so he doesn’t tug on your hair. Like some kind of wild cat creeping through the jungle, every moment calculated and careful.

He bunches the comforter up a little at your back, so that if you do stir, it might feel like he’s still there. Still a weight, curving around you. He takes a good five minutes just to travel the length of the room – the lightest he’s ever walked, dodging the spots on the carpet that he knows make the floorboards squeal.

When the door gently clicks back into place, he heads downstairs. Cracks out his frying pan – non-stick, obviously – and all his ingredients, pulls the printed recipe from its hiding place between two cookbooks and lays it out on the counter, flattening the creases and unfolding the corners. And gets to it.

His first egg cracks messily over the lip of the bowl. The yolk runs down the outside, and he curses before swiping it back up with his index finger. The second egg empties fully inside the bowl, but drags with it tiny fragments of shell. Joel spends five minutes focusing on picking every single piece out of the mixture. He crouches to make sure he’s poured the exact amount of milk, eyes level with the top of the liquid, and he double checks every step before he follows it.

This has to be perfect. Has to be. For you.

The entire time, all he can think about is you asking to sleep with his body inside yours. Wanting him closer than you’d ever wanted him before, as close as he could physically be. Your sleepy voice circles between his ears on loop – want somethin’ else. That safe feeling creeps up on him all over again.

He knows he shouldn’t. He can’t. He’s spent the last month purposefully pushing those feelings down, dampening them anytime they rose to the surface. Only allowing himself to feel them, to acknowledge them, when you’re around. Because he can’t fucking help but acknowledge them when you’re here – they stare him straight in the face.

So he’d been making peace with letting the floodgates open just a little bit at a time – one quick rush whenever you’d give him one of your meaningful glances, when your hot skin would brush against his, when your mouth would fall open at the feeling of his first deep thrust inside you.

And then he’d bolt them back up.

Except that, now…he’s not sure the dam can hold much longer. There are cracks he’s not repairing quickly enough. Unintended consequences hammering against the other side of the stone in the form of angry white waves.

He’s staring at the beige circle of batter in the pan, swept off with the waves into someplace far from his kitchen, when the sound of your voice draws him back.

“Joel? You down there?”

The floorboards at the top of his stairs creak. You’re leaning over the banister.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m here.” He slips halfway out of the kitchen door, closing it over his body in hopes you won’t smell the pancakes. You ask what he’s doing, and he says, “Just makin’ a coffee. You want anything brought up?”

“I’m good,” you reply. “’m gonna take a shower.”

“Alright, baby. There’s probably some stuff in Sarah’s bathroom you can use.”

He listens closely as your footsteps recede, waiting to hear the hum of his shower before he relaxes again, flipping the pancake over. It sizzles away as he runs one thick finger along the inside of the bowl and tastes his handiwork. Pretty damn good, he thinks. He’s sucking his finger clean when his cell goes.

Joel swipes to answer, and before he can utter a Hello?, your dad’s voice is screaming down the line to him.

“Mornin’, pal! You in? You up?”

He figures this is the infamous speakerphone you rambled for ten minutes about last night. Like a fucking foghorn, man. I’m deaf in this ear now.

He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond. “I was just passin’ by, remembered you got that leakin’ pipe, or whatever it is. Under your sink, right? You good for me to drop in ‘n take a look?”

“Uh – uh, I’m –” Joel stammers his way through a sentence he doesn’t know the ending of, slotting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and giving the pan a rattle against the stovetop. He slips the spatula under the mixture, and when he flips it over, the pancake is charcoal black. “Fuck.”

“What’s that?” you dad roars, deafening in Joel’s ear. Fuckin’ speakerphone.

“Nothin’, it’s…” He sighs, accepting his new-found position: backed into a fucking corner. What’s new these days?

“Yeah, I’m up. See you in a bit.”

He hangs up the phone midway through an Alright, buddy from your dad, and whacks the chargrilled pancake on top of the pile. His phone surfs across the counter in a blur of blind panic, before Joel’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to you.

The door’s ajar. He can hear you quietly singing to yourself. Same song you’re always fucking singing, always trying to coax Joel into singing along with you. You’re humming the guitar solo when he whips the door open.

“Hey, hey,” he’s panting, taking your towel in one hand and reaching for the shower door with the other, a blur of movement before his eyes like he’s not in control of his own body. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, blinded by the soap suds running down your forehead and into your eyes.

“Baby,” Joel whispers, desperate, “you gotta get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

He drags you over to the first place he spots: his closet. He knows it’s no fucking good, but he can hear your dad’s car squealing to a halt in his drive, and he’s in a blink panic wondering what artefacts, what evidence of your being here lie dotted around his house. Your bikini’s hanging up out back, there’s probably a hoodie still strewn over the back of his couch.

He doesn’t have time to think, though, because in the midst of his mental scan of every room whilst explaining to you what’s going on, your dad’s heavy boots just thudded onto his doormat.

“Miller?” he calls up the stairs. And Joel closes the closet over.

----------

He stands by the front door watching your dad’s car purr off down the street, waiting until it turns left and disappears behind the Dawsons’ back fence to shut the door. When he turns back into his hallway, the house is uncomfortably silent. You’re still up in his room.

The weight of your phone pulls at the waistband of his jeans. He slips his hand into his back pocket, fishes it out, and takes one step toward the stairs. The screen lights in his palm.

There’s a cluster of notifications from some film class group chat, a couple Snapchats from Sarah. A reminder to take your birth control from some pink-icon app, and then –

I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

He stares at it until the text burns into his eyes. Blinks, and it’s seared into his lids. His breath leaves his chest in a heavy, burdened sigh. It trembles as it pushes from his lungs. He feels something burning under his skin. All over.

He’s angry. And he’s trying to keep it contained.

Keep it where it lies, keep it beneath the surface. Stop it from pooling right behind his lips, collecting in the light of his eyes. Keep it from revealing itself. But when his foot lifts to the first step, it’s like a deadweight in the air.

He’s angry. But he’s fucking exhausted.

The bedroom is empty when Joel pushes the door open. You’re still hidden in the closet. You don’t look up at him when he pulls on the shuttered door, letting light flood across your hands, still covering your face. There are flicks of dripping wet hair peeking out from under the towel on your head.

He wants to put his arms around you. Wants to kiss you all over. Tell you, It’s okay, it’s alright. He didn’t see nothin’.

But he can’t. Because neither of those things are true.

Your dad saw the cowgirl hat. Hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has. It sent a sharpened bolt of panic through Joel’s body the second the words came tumbling out. He might’ve seen your bag lying at the bottom of the stairs. Might’ve passed your car on his drive here. There are so many loose fucking ends.

And more than that – harder to accept: maybe this isn’t okay anymore. Maybe it hasn’t been the entire time. And maybe, despite all his good efforts and the fucking way you make him feel, despite it being weeks now of tiptoeing and lying and covering your tracks – maybe you finally crossed a line.

He can’t look at you a second longer. His heart’s in his throat. If he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll probably choke. Break down. So he walks away.

You follow him downstairs a few minutes later, fully dressed and silent. Your touch sweeps across his shoulder blades, and it takes everything in him not to turn to you then and there. Come here, kiss me. Pretend none of it’s happening, just for a moment.

He sets your plate down in front of you. He’s taken the burnt pancake. He follows a pattern: cuts into the food, glances out to the backyard, and back to the plate. It’s the only thing keeping the words from rolling out onto the table in front of him. The only thing stopping him from –

You kick his leg. So gently, he barely feels it.

“You gonna eat?” he asks in response, chewing on the smoky flavor of burnt batter. Your hands hesitate, and he feels his own flinch as if to take them, rub them, squeeze them. And then he watches as you drag your knife through your own breakfast.

He wants you to yell at him. He wants to give meaning to the guilt he feels. He knows what’s coming, and he isn’t so sure that you do.

This is…impossible. It has been, from the start. Always sneaking off, coming up with excuses. So many fucking excuses, he can’t even keep them straight in his head anymore. She’s here, droppin’ my flannel off. Now we’re upstairs, I’m showin’ her my guitar. Need her to help with decorations. Your TV’s broken, did you know that? Don’t mind us, just sat in this private corner of my backyard, out of view of fucking everyone. I’ll pick her up from her rodeo night, take her home. She’s at Anna’s all day today, right?

And your dad – kind and naïve, or maybe just so fucking gullible that every single one lands like the flour did in the egg mixture. Just gracefully floats down into his brain, absorbs itself and folds perfectly into place.

So, yell at him. Get mad. Make him feel like the fucking asshole he knows he is. Leading you on, and letting you get close to him, and then when it gets too hard – pushing you away. Doesn’t matter if that’s what he did or not; doesn’t matter whether he did or didn’t mean it. He wants you to be mad at him. To justify what he’s about to do.

He slides you your phone. Motions for you to read it.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and then he thinks you get it.

But then you say, “…he didn’t see me, though. Right?” and his heart sinks.

No. He didn’t see you. But he saw so many little pieces of you, that Joel finds it impossible to consider that he isn’t already seeing the entire picture. He’s picturing your dad at home in the living room, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair, adding two and two and two and two and –

You’re bickering. Actually arguing. He doesn’t know how to navigate it, save for letting the frustration take the wheel and drive the point home: you came too close to being caught.

You’re smarter than this, he knows you are. He knows that you can see plain as day, everything that he can. The bag, the hat, the fucking home-cooked breakfast sat on his kitchen counter. He’s watching you argue your point, hands dancing in the air animatedly, eyebrows lifting, eyes widening. Hear me out. Listen to me. Hear me out.

“I didn’t fucking mean to let him see the b–”

“That’s not the point,” Joel says, before he has time to stop himself.

“Then what’s your point?”

He feels his voice carry off into the air with the images racing around his head. Hank’s shadow under the door. The roar of voices downstairs as you climaxed. Your body pinned under Joel’s on your couch. The way the morning light screamed into the house as your front door burst open.

He doesn’t sound like he has much of a point, even to himself. He’s in it just as much as you are. He’s lied and he’s hidden just as much as you have, and made mistakes that are…worse, as far as he’s concerned.

And the worst one of all sits directly opposite him. Head low, eyes boring into the wood of his kitchen table. He can see the tears swelling across your waterline. Can feel the heat from here as it spreads across your face. Anger thrums through his chest again, and his teeth grit.

He murmurs, pushing himself up from the table and away from you. Tells you there’s some stuff he needs to see to. You’re mad about it, like he knew you would be. Like you should be. He promises he’ll be back in a couple hours; promises you’ll talk when he gets home.

And then he leaves.

----------

Clark’s is on the other side of town. It takes him nearly forty minutes to get there, and more than half of that time is spent staring at the tail lights of a Honda in front of him. Some accident up ahead. His eyes bore into the burning red strip of brake light until it’s singed into them, a blur of blue when he finally rips his glare away and stares up at the white sky.

He thinks about calling you. Saying, Hey, I’m stuck in traffic, talk to me, but he doesn’t. He just…doesn’t.

Instead, he wonders what you’re doing. Whether or not you’re still at his place. He wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. But if you are – and he hopes you are – what are you doing?

He thinks: She’s on the couch. Bundled in blankets. Grey’s is on TV. She’s rewatchin’ her favorite episodes.

Least, that’s what he wants you to be doing. Wants you to be making yourself feel better, because he knows he was a complete ass earlier. You didn’t deserve any of it. Nothing that he didn’t deserve himself, just as much, anyway.

He thinks about coming home, and you hitting pause, pushing yourself off the couch and sauntering around to him. Wrapping him in the blanket until your bodies are pressed together under the woven red, and kissing him. Kiss me kiss me kiss me.

And the thought of you, standing on your tiptoes to press your soft lips to his, your fingers sifting through his hair, is like a cold pack on a searing wound. Dulls his anger, even if it’s just for a second.

His wide tires crawl silently across the smooth lot of the plant hire, parking right in front of the wire fence. The truck door slams shut when he gets out. He doesn’t mean it. Maybe he does. But he does it without thinking, and with a hot head, a temper sharper than nails, he strides over to the glass-paneled door and swings it open.

She’s sat behind the desk, same as always. Dark, deep auburn hair, groomed and set to perfection so that when she looks up, it doesn’t move an inch. Curls around the sweetheart shape of her face, smooth and shining. Her blue eyes twinkle in the glaring light from outside, and she stands.

She tugs lightly on the hem of her white blouse. You’d probably elbow him and say, That’s cream, not white. She smiles at him and it doesn’t look a thing like your smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw your smile. Fuck, he thinks, when did I last make her smile?

And he’s still wondering, when Lois says, “Hey, stranger,” and puts a gentle, pale, red-nailed hand down on the desk. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles, clearing his throat and glancing at the man in a pair of thick, steel-toe boots, sat in a waiting area to his left. He thinks it’s probably polite to ask how she is. It’s been seven weeks since he blew off her hint for a date.

“Good, thanks,” she replies, cheeks swelling even more. They’re lightly shaded crimson, a soft shimmer to them against her snowy skin, dappled with light freckles. “You?”

He nods once. “Good,” he echoes, not sure what else to say. He’s lying, and she doesn’t seem to figure him out the way you would.

No. Instead, Lois steps back, straightens up, and twirls the pen in her fingers. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got some equipment I’m after,” he mutters, hand slipping into his back pocket for his phone. Lois’s eyes flit up and down his body as he taps his passcode in with his thumb.

She asks him something, but it sounds like she’s speaking through a closed door. He’s elsewhere.

The phone unlocks, screen lifting to reveal the last open app: his camera roll. His thumbs hover over the screen, tracing where yours would’ve tapped last night.

The video’s muted, she won’t hear it even if he let it play, but he swipes away the second he recognizes the tangled mess of your hair, his fist locked tight in it. His own hair, salt and pepper buried deep in the crook of your neck.

Something in his chest aches. Pulls tight, hurts his heart. He takes a deep breath and scares the feeling away. He’s staring at his camera roll. Staring at twelve little square thumbnails – couple of them work stuff, couple of them lists of supplies he has to remember to pick up – and then. Then.

You. At the Hillcrest. Dimples in your cheeks. That’s what made him take his phone out. The soft dips in your skin that appear anytime you smile, laugh, sometimes even just when you talk. He’d first noticed them when you had a mouth full of pizza, chatting animatedly about Meredith and Derek, and he’s noticed them every time since.

He’d seen them, as you posed with Sarah for a selfie at lunch. And his hand had slipped into his pocket before his brain even had the chance to finish the thought.

His quiet way of marking how he felt in that moment. How his chest seemed to fill as if with air, or something thicker. Sweeter. Like it was trying to push words up, a comment to tell you how beautiful you looked. Trying to make him move, run his thumb light as air across that tiny valley in your cheek and look at you with eyes that translated the words hammering behind his eyes.

But you had company. And all he managed to do was take two fucking photos.

Lois talks again, and this time, there’s no closed door.

“Huh?” Joel’s head snaps up, takes a few seconds to focus on the red hair in front of him. “Sorry, Lois, sorry.”

“’s alright. You okay?” She’s smiling so warmly, so sincerely. And there are no dimples in her cheeks.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “just checkin’ for the address.”

She holds out a pad, a stack of hire agreement forms hovering between her body and his, but he’s not looking. He’s still scrolling through his phone, thumbs searching your dad’s text thread for the information. Lois lowers the pad to the counter, places the pen on top. Fiddles with it until it’s lined up with the top of the form perfectly.

Then Joel looks up, and she smiles again.

“Not for you, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Just the messenger.”

“Got it. Well, you know what you’re doing. Let me know if you need anything.”

Lois takes a step back, eyes still on Joel, who smiles politely, then swipes the form from the desk and takes a seat between Steel-Toe Boots and some tall, leafy plant that he has to bat away when he sits down. He’s copying the site address, phone resting on his thigh, when the receptionist speaks again.

“How’s Sarah doin’? She home yet?”

“Yeah,” Joel replies, “been home a couple weeks now. She’s been in Nashville this weekend.”

Lois lifts her head, blinking slowly. “Nashville. Nice. So, you’ve had a weekend to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“And what does Joel Miller get up to when he has an empty house for a few days?”

His fingers squeeze around the pen, pushing deeper into the paper. His expression hardens. “Nothing excitin’ enough to share. Sat by the pool yesterday. Was nice out.”

She agrees. “Sure was. You have company?”

Joel shakes his head once. Blinks the image of you and your red bikini from his vision. Focuses on dragging the pen one digit at a time across the line labeled Phone Number. If he cared enough, he’d give the obvious hint a couple seconds’ consideration, even just to protect Lois’s pride a little.

But he doesn’t care. And right now, he ain’t interested in protecting anyone but you.

“Nope. Just me ‘n a few beers.”

“Better off that way,” a hoarse, forty-cigs-a-day voice rasps from his right. “Less fuckin’ problems.”

Joel’s jaw rotates a degree towards the work boots; notices the folds of dry, leathery skin piled atop the raised gray eyebrows of their owner, and then turns back silently.

Lois clears her throat awkwardly. “Well, I spent the day with my book. I’m readin’ a Colleen Hoover. Adam’s at camp, so – quiet house for me, too.”

Joel finds himself nodding. Autopilot. He’s pretending he’s listening.

You’re still in his sight, wandering over from the sliding kitchen doors, a bottle in each hand. He can hardly see you when he looks up, the sun’s so bright. You hold a beer out, condensation dripping down your fingers towards Joel’s when he takes it, and then you slump down in the sun lounger next to his.

His arm reaches across, and your small fingers wrap and then unwrap around his, running across his knuckles, nails lightly scratching his worked hands. And he’s smiling, and he doesn’t even notice it until his eyes meet yours and you laugh, and he asks, What? through a chuckle, and you say, Nothin’, you just look happy.

Your dimpled blush blurs back into checkboxes and scrawled handwriting. You’re gone again. He’s in a white office, and the gentle lapping of the water on the pool’s edge fades into the headache noise of a fan humming, and he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin turn into the cold, harsh spotlight glare of Lois’s eyes on him.

He looks up. She’s still smiling. At this point, he finds it fucking unnerving.

He rises from his chair, swings a wandering leaf from that ugly green plant out of his way and paces back over to the desk, sliding the pad back across to her. Their hands brush as she takes it from his grip, and he pulls his wrist close to his body. Lois doesn’t seem to notice.

She’s running the pen down the form, checking everything he’s filled in. Her tongue moves around the inside of her cheek, sucking on a hard candy. “Delivery on Friday?” she double checks, and Joel nods. “Alright,” she says, tearing away his copy, “we’ll call ya.”

“’ppreciate it,” he mumbles, folding the paper into his back pocket.

She turns, reaching to slip the form into a blue tray, and Joel pauses. Thinks to say something – he hopes Adam has a fun time at camp, or that Lois enjoys the rest of her quiet week. But then he sees you sat opposite him, staring fixedly at the plate before you, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He feels your hand laced in his, hears your laugh still ringing in his ears.

He misses you. He should never have left you. You matter more to him than some equipment for a site. Matter more to him than anything. He should’ve never fucking left.

Joel nods. Reaches for the handle of the door. Glances back to Lois. “There a florist anywhere near here?”

----------

He pulls the truck in alongside the florist. Teal window frames, a little pink door. He can hear you now. How fucking cute is that store? Give me your phone, I gotta get a picture. Mine’s is in my bag in the back. Look, the traffic’s movin’, Joel, give me your phone – quick!

His fingers hook around the silver door handle. He pats his jeans once – wallet’s right there – and goes to pull, when his cell vibrates from the center console. He can see himself in the glass screen, your dad’s name written across the reflection of his forehead.

He bites down on his lip. Hard. Glances up to the road ahead. Blinks. And decides to answer.

“Joel,” your dad chirps down the line. “Sorry, buddy, you’ll be sick a’ the sight ‘n sound of me today.”

Joel manages a convincing laugh. “What’s up?”

“Just makin’ sure you’re rememberin’ to put Friday’s date down for delivery on that order. We’re gonna need the stuff over the weekend, so.”

“Yep. Just been to do it right now. Friday’s date, Harvey’s site, your card details ‘n everything.”

“’attaboy. Good job. You’re all grown up.”

“Funny.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it. There wasn’t no chance I was gettin’ time to do it myself,” he lowers his voice, “I’m still stuck here with Kelman.”

Joel’s fingers trace around his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah? He keepin’ you busy?”

“You bet. Had to haggle with ‘im just to get a lunch break. Speakin’ of – I swung by the house and that daughter of mine wasn’t home. Haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday mornin’. I’m just checkin’ she ain’t stop by to see Sarah or som’?”

His fingers lock tight around the leather. “Sarah’s still in Nashville, she gets in tonight. Couldn’t tell you where yours is. I’m not home yet, so.”

It’s a half-truth. He could wager a pretty good guess, but he can’t be certain, can he?

Your dad chuckles down the line. “She spent the night at Anna’s. My house must be like prison to her – she’s never around anymore. I’ll hear from her soon, I’m sure. Alright. Thanks, again, Joel.”

He drops the phone back into the cupholder with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest to stare at the roof of the truck. He’s still picturing you in his living room, head turning to the street at every sound of a car door, or tires rolling by. And then the image is marred by your dad, peering in the window back at you, catching you wrapped up in a situation you shouldn’t be in.

He doesn’t want your dad to find out. For obvious reasons. Because it would mean the collapse of their friendship, the collapse of the world they built between them – for you, for Sarah, for themselves. Comfortability, and normalcy, and routine and order all thrown to the wind on account of some month-long fling.

But more important than all of that: it would mean dragging you into all of that, too. Fucking up your relationship with your dad. Making things weird between you and Sarah. Ruining whatever’s left of what you and Joel had, before you both took it too far.

And if he doesn’t want all that – if he doesn’t want your dad finding out – then something has to change. Something’s gotta stop.

His fingers wrap tight around the key and turn, and the truck jumps to life. He turns away from the teal-colored florist as he pulls off.

----------

You take it about as well as he reckoned you might. About as well as you should, given the circumstances. He isn’t surprised, and he doesn’t blame you. He’s probably on your side, when you argue back with him.

“You’re not serious, right? Joel. You’re not –”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a fucking bag?”

He lifts his gaze and pleads with you. “Because of the lying.”

You’re right, with your response: it’s never been an issue until now. He’s been more than fucking happy to sneak off, take you as his own, and then return with a satisfied grin and a mouth full of excuses to feed your company. He almost agrees.

It’s just: this time, your dad’s at your heels like a bloodhound. A little less sharp, maybe. Blind as a fucking bat, sure. But he can smell something’s up. And he’s circling it, nose to the ground, drawing nearer and nearer to the pair of you with each step.

You ask if he wants to tell the truth. That thought scares him just as much. Knocks him back a few steps. No, he doesn’t want to come clean.

The words fly back and forth like a tennis match. Too fast for him to keep control of what he’s saying and how you’re hearing it. He wants to break it off – is there anything to break off? – but he doesn’t want to lose you – how can you lose something you never had? – and then: did he ever have you in the first place?

You’re standing over him, between his knees. “End it,” you tell him. “I’ll go.”

There’s a casualness in the loose shrug of your shoulders that scares him more than the prospect of you actually leaving. How easy it looks like it could be, for you to just wander out. Sling your bag over your shoulder and revert back to the start of the summer, when he was just a ride home after a rainy day at work.

Forget how to touch him the way he’s certain only you can, forget the secret language between you, forget every stolen glance and whispered word and every thought that ever translated from your brain to his as easy as they would pass between your lips.

“You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?” He’s laughing. Disbelief, fear, shock. Whichever one it is, it pulls across his cheeks painfully. Somehow, you’ve ended up at the foot of his bed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

It’s cold water over an already-dying fire. The words smother into ash on his tongue. No more come to the front. He just stares at you. His phone starts to chitter out into the silence between you.

You take a step forward. Your voice is low. “You don’t get to do this, you know. You don’t get to pull me in and then drop me…once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.”

It’s not much, but it soars from the pit of his stomach, through his throat and past his lips like a final arrow. All he can muster up.

“Don’t.”

There’s a weight where the words originate from. Something deep in his gut, an ache pulling its way upward, swelling across his chest. His ears are screaming.

Of all the things you might think – he’s an asshole, he’s a liar, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing – the worst one would be that he spent this entire time leading you on. Making you feel special. Making you think you were something to him.

You are something to him. You’re – you’re fucking everything to him. It’s why he’s doing this, right? Going against every instinct, every gut feeling. To protect you. To do what’s right by you. He’s not fucking done with you. He wonders if he’ll ever go another day in his life without thinking about you.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper, and his lungs steal a breath. His lack of response flattens your expression.

Joel might not be done, but you are.

He can feel you slipping from his grasp like sand through his knuckles. Each grain rocking itself loose, choosing to throw itself to the depths below rather than spend another second wrapped in his clutch.

He’s trying so desperately to hold onto you. Listen to me, he thinks, and he knows you can’t hear him anymore. Because now you’re really going – you’re tripping out of his room. Your heel catches on the threshold, like one last-ditch attempt from fate to pull you back into him, but you stop yourself and spin, fleeing down the hallway.

He takes a loose grasp of your wrist, fingers barely meeting on the other side of your skin before you tear it away from him like he’s scalded you. The look on your face makes him think for a moment that he might actually have done it – burned you. Pained you. Raised the skin below your gentle palm in a furious, red glow.

He’s swapping words out like they’re tools, each one immediately breaking and being flung back into the box. He’s trying any combination, any useless, futile order of words to make you stop in your tracks. You know how much I care about you, ‘s why I’m doin’ it, baby, come back, we can talk about this.

And he opens his mouth to give voice to the only words he knows would stop you – the reason why he’s doing it in the first place, the only thought he’s had anytime he’s looked at you for the last couple weeks. He opens his mouth to say it, or say something like it, when the machine silences the ringtone and the pair of you, too.

Her voice is like ice down the back of his shirt. He stares at the machine, red light blinking like a rag to a bull. He could walk over to it and smash the ever-loving fuck out of it with his fists until it’s dust on his coffee table. Until it shuts the fuck up, stops interfering with his fucking business.

And then he thinks about Lois, and her cream blouse, and her red nails, and her big, blue eyes, and her soft drawl and everything about her that is so entirely opposite to everything about you.

And how much – despite how nice and friendly, or funny and good-natured she is – how much he hates her right now, and how much he fucking loves you.

But you’re gone, now. Washed away by the tide. No more sand in Joel’s palm.

He tries to stop it. Tries to wind back a little, tries to make the sea cough up what it just stole from him. Give her back, you fuck. His eyes are stinging like salt water. Why are they stinging? There’s a roaring in his ears – the waves laughing in his face. Sickly and deafening.

He’s doing his best to keep a hold on his trembling voice. He knows he sounds pathetic. But yours is louder, stronger, steadier. And when you talk, it’s with an air of finality. Like you’re turning over the horizon. The last time he’ll ever see you again.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

He doesn’t call or text you that night. He doesn’t know what he’d say. Doesn’t even know where he’d begin. You’re mad, and Joel figures you got every right to be. This entire thing – today, this weekend, the whole month you’ve been together – is one big fucking mess.

He spends the afternoon hunched over his kitchen table, trying to distract himself with work. Twirling a pencil between his fingers, reading three, four, sometimes five times over the same building plans before deciding that the words and numbers won’t fucking sink in. He leaves them strewn across the table, wanders aimlessly upstairs and takes a cold shower.

Sarah’s flight gets in at 8PM. Joel’s sat curbside, truck engine humming, scanning every single figure that walks out of the airport building. When he spots the gray hoodie, the brown hair tied back with a pink scrunchie, the much-too-big-for-four-days-away suitcase rolling at her heels, he gets out.

She hugs her friends, they nod in passing greeting to him, and she skips over.

“Hey,” he breathes as she wraps her arms around his waist. “How was your flight? Saw you comin’ in.”

She shrugs in response. “I’m hungry. Wanna go get McDonald’s?”

Joel grumbles, slotting her case in the back of the truck. “You don’t wanna get home? Take a shower first? You smell like plane.”

“Ha! No.”

She opens the passenger side door and hoists her foot up on the seat, retying her sneaker. Joel’s already in and buckled up, hands on the wheel, watching her blue nails loop the laces.

“There’s one, like, ten minutes away.”

He’s shaking his head. “We got food in the house.”

Her gaze lifts. Her foot drops. “Oh, c’mon, it’s on the way home. We’ll be, like, five minutes. I just got off a two-hour flight, dude, right through dinner. I’m starving, I –”

“Would you just get in the damn truck, Sarah?”

It’s shorter, snappier, angrier than he meant. But he’s parked in the middle of the packed pick-up area, and the rattling of suitcase wheels and the whistling of cab drivers and the fucking roaring of planes overhead are making the headache behind his eyes worse.

Sarah freezes, one arm still leaning on the doorframe. “Jesus. What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Joel mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry. Just – get in.”

“No need to be an asshole about it,” she murmurs, pulling herself up into the passenger seat.

Joel’s face is in his hands, elbows atop the steering wheel. “I’m not tryna be an asshole,” he says into his palms.

His daughter looks at him. Concerned. “Somethin’ happen? While I was gone?”

He shakes his head again.

Nothing happened.

He’s quiet the rest of the night. The rest of the week. Sarah notices, he knows she does, because she pries. In her own way. She’s smarter than he is. Less obvious.

She’s already up and in the kitchen when he rises on Tuesday morning. Spins around at the toaster, tells him the machine’s ready for his coffee. Asks if he wants her to make it. Asks if he wants any breakfast.

Thanks, kiddo. No, I’ll get it. No, you’re good, thanks.

They sit opposite one another in silence, save for the crunching of Sarah’s toast. He can feel her eyes on him, same way he felt Lois’s. Trying to burrow deep inside, take a look at his brain. Catch a glimpse of the words he’s thinking over and over and over.

There ain’t no words, though. It’s just images. Video replay of your back as you strode down his driveway, the way the wind caught your hair and brushed your cheek, the way your hand came up to wipe your tears. And the way he stood there, like a fucking idiot, and did nothing.

His chest hurts any time he thinks about you. Pulls in, knits itself together in knots. He’s good at pushing feelings down, good at turning them away from the sunlight like faded pebbles. But this is different. It’s a different kind of hurt.

It’s unresolved, it’s an open wound. It’s you. And it’s every time he hears REO Speedwagon, every time he pulls a flannel over his shoulders and catches the scent of your perfume on it, every time he’s flicking through the TV and catches a flash of a hospital setting, it’s a pair of hands deep inside the wound, pulling it a little wider.

It aches. It stings and it aches and it winds.

And then he turns the pebbles around. Back to the shade. Over and over and fucking over.

On Wednesday night, he caves. Asks Sarah if she’s spoken to you.

She’s chewing on a slice of pizza; licks the grease from her fingertips before she answers. “Not really. She’s been quieter than usual. Why?”

“She’s been quieter than usual?” he repeats, playing off the way his head shot up by looking straight back down at the pizza box.

Sarah narrows her eyes. “Yeah. I figure she’s working a lot.”

“Right. Right.”

“She gets tired of being in the house all the time, I think. Getting treated like a kid still. So I guess the more time she can spend outta there, the better.”

Joel nods slowly. He already knows that much.

Sarah studies him. Watches his hands as he dabs a pizza crust into the dip. When he tosses it in his mouth, he looks back up at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You want the last slice?”

“You take it,” he mutters, sitting back and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m stuffed.”

She hums, reaching forward. “Whatever it is,” she says, pulling the dough apart, “that’s got you this down –”

“Ain’t nothin’ got me down, kiddo.”

“– whatever it is,” she continues, “I bet it works itself out.”

Sarah stands up, taking her water with her, and wanders out of the kitchen.

----------

Joel struggles through another sleepless night, Thursday through Friday. His eyes don’t close over once. He hauls himself out of bed early in the morning, forces a black coffee down his throat, and heads off to work.

He’s up at some new client in Waco. Andrew Curtis – or, well, Andrew Curtis’s father, but Joel’s been dealing primarily with the son, and the guy’s a fucking imbecile. Doesn’t know his head from his ass, probably. And he has a voice like nails on a damn chalkboard, and his shirt’s untucked around the back, but Joel ain’t got a tone kind enough, or half the wordsmanship, or an ounce of energy to tell him.

Anyway – he spends all day at this dusty site, trying to work and instead, thinking about whatever the fuck you’re doing. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with. It’s almost seven by the time he’s leaving, packing up his truck and watching Andrew Curtis across the yard. He’s spotted his own shadow; he’s twisting around to reach the ducktail poking out from above his belt loops.

Joel thinks to call you about it on the way home. Tell you all about the guy: his dry conversation, his flannel, the fact he kept calling Joel Joe all day. He figures it would make you laugh, least the way he’d tell it, and he reckons that’s exactly what you need right now. That’s exactly what he needs, right now.

When Clark’s call him, he dials your dad. Has his ear blown half to hell by the speakerphone. Learns midway through the conversation that you’re right there in the car, too, and bites back a stream of incoherent, senseless words. Settles for a quiet reminder: he’s right here if you need him.

He doesn’t expect you to take him up on it. Knows you got better things to do than deal with some asshole who’d rather break your heart than have a few difficult conversations. You’re probably having fun, probably finally feeling good again. You’re probably fine.

But still. He doesn’t sleep that night, either.

It’s just gone two when Anna calls. He’s lying in bed, some shopping network on loop on the TV. His tired eyes bore into the screen, defocusing over the pixels, not watching nor listening and barely fucking breathing until he picks up the phone. Her voice is panicked, shrill, and shaking so much he wonders if his own phone is trembling with it.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks, and Joel sits up. “Got your number from Yelp. ‘m sorry it’s so late, it’s…oh, fuck – it’s, like, 2AM.”

“Anna,” Joel says hoarsely. Get to the fuckin’ point.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.”

It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks –

“Where is she?”

“We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –”

“’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

In one long, drawn breath, she spills. “She was fucked from the second we walked in here; she drank too much too quick, Mr. Miller – Joel,” she says when he corrects her, “and then she just – I dunno, she just – fucking disappeared with these guys, me ‘n Kara never saw ‘em in our lives – and they went upstairs we think, and she came back smelling like weed, and then this guy – he just, like, scooped her off, Mr. M– I mean Joel, like, totally dragged her away, and then –”

“Who–? Anna – Anna, wait,” Joel says, shushing her between her rambling, trying to rein in what she’s saying. When she finally shuts up, he speaks slowly and calmly. “Who dragged her away?”

“We don’t fuckin’ know!” she almost shrieks down the line. It cuts out for a second and Joel’s heart stops dead.“– so we don’t know,” she says when her voice filters back through into his ear, “but Sam said he saw the dude drop something in her bottle when he turned away. A pill or something.”

Joel’s body tenses. Freezes solid, with the blood in his veins. His eyes fix on one spot on his dresser: the loose handle that sits a little squint. He stares at it until his peripheral starts to blur.

“He – say that again?”

“He roofied her, we think. But we can’t fucking find them. Sam and Kara are in there just now looking. The guy pulled her away, that’s what I’m tryna say!”

“Right,” whispers Joel, nodding. He drags a heavy hand over his eyes, tries to push the image of you in danger out of his head for one second so he can figure out what to do.

Anna doesn’t hear him. She keeps talking. “…and then Sam said she told him not to call her dad, but I had to call someone, y’know? You’re the only person I think she wouldn’t – I think she wouldn’t mind me callin’. Please.”

He’s already halfway down the stairs, arms pushing through the sleeves of his shirt. He keeps the phone against his cheek when he bends to reach for his boots, ties them loose and grabs his keys.

“You call me as soon as you find her, you hear? I’m on my way,” he tells Anna, and hangs up.

He’s panicking. Fear, transferred between her cell and his, creeping over his shoulders, wrapping long, cold fingers around his throat. He’s panicking. He’s panicking. He never panics. Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you with?

There’s barely any traffic on the road, but the drive takes for-fucking-ever. The lights at the side of the road blur into long, thin streaks of orange. His hands are tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Your name lies loose on his lips.

He pulls up right outside the bar. There are small clusters of people, congregated tight together under the streetlights; cigarettes hanging from lips, bottles loose in hands. He shoves by them on his way to the door. Some guy shuffles out of his way, looking up to cuss Joel out and quickly dipping his head again when he locks eyes with the grizzly expression.

He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and spots you instantly.

----------

His knuckles are throbbing. Skin stretching anytime he moves his hand, searing hot and sharply stinging across the bone. Your touch is the only thing soothing them right now.

He got two good punches in. Just two. Burst the guy’s nose. He would’ve kept going, had he not been in a bar full of people – people who knew who he was – and had you not been stood behind him, body liquid-like from how much you were swaying.

But he has you home now. Up in your room, settled in bed. You’re safe. You’re with him.

You’re fucking wasted. Like, can barely lift a glass of water to your lips unaided wasted. He spent the entire drive watching over you, stealing glances when your head turned or your eyes lulled closed, checking you were still awake, still talking, still fucking breathing.

Whatever that asshole gave you, you don’t seem to have had enough for it to do too much damage. The alcohol is the real culprit. Though you were cognitive enough to yell at him over Lois in the kitchen, which relieved him for a second before it fucking crushed him. He’s lying awake right now – listening to the sound of your snoring – replaying the argument in his head. Over and over.

You’re an asshole and a liar. Just stringing me along this whole time.

He’s some awful cocktail of angry and terrified and fucking heartbroken. You’re lying inches from him, your hand resting softly on top of his, and yet – you’re miles away. The space between you both – fragmented, treacherous.

In a perfect world, he’d have wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He’d have pulled you against his weight, against his strong, steady form. And he’d have walked you, as slow as you needed, out of the bar and to his truck. Maybe laughing. Maybe singing.

He’d have told you everything was fine, told you he loved you, told you he was gonna get you home, make you feel better. He’d hold you until the sun came up, and then hold you until it went back down.

He’d love you. And you’d let him.

Maybe that world doesn’t exist, Joel thinks. And maybe that’s for the better.

It fucking hurts, though. Stings like a hot blade through his chest. All this time, messing around, pretending there was nothing more to it. Letting his feelings through like water in a fucking dam. It was bound to break eventually.

And maybe he really thought, even just for a fleeting moment, there could be something here. Something worth holding onto. More than two idiots messing around, more than sex and secrecy.

He didn’t even realize. Didn’t notice the shift. When did he start feeling…more? When did it cross that line?

He’s staring at the end of your bed. Thinking about you under him, gripping onto his shirt, his hand between your legs. The very first time. And every other fucking time since then. Which one was the threshold? Who pushed who?

His ringtone bursts through the silence, making him jump. His arm swings to fish it from the nightstand, swiping to answer before he’s even read who’s calling, just to shut the thing up.

“Hello?” he murmurs.

“Hey, Joe? Uh, I mean, Joel? It’s Andrew Curtis here.”

He rolls his eyes. For fuck’s sake. “Mornin’, Andrew.”

“Hi. Sorry, I know it’s super early. I’m just checkin’ we’re still good to go. I got my guys ready, we’re rarin’ to get goin’ whenever you are.”

Joel clears his throat, pushing slowly off the plush mattress, resting your hand on the sheets. “Yeah, uh…” He slips out of your room, hopping over to the bathroom and closing the door over. “…I had a, uh…a family emergency durin’ the night. I’m gonna be a little late, but I’ll be there.”

“Oh, gee, I hope everything’s alright?”

He phrases it like he wants Joel to clue him in. He considers for a second actually saying, Yeah, my best friend’s daughter – who I’ve been sleeping with for the last month – got plastered at a bar – Frank’s, local place, you heard of it? – because I broke things off with her – but I didn’t want to, I was just tryna be fuckin’ noble – and I went and picked her up, punched a guy who was tryna hurt her, because guess what, Andrew – I’m in fuckin’ love with her.

He sums it up with: “Yeah. Everything’s fine now. Thanks.”

“Alright, well, great news! Call me when you’re twenty minutes out, I’ll have the guys here for you arrivin’. Safe journey, Joe!”

Joel breathes an Uhuh and hangs up, holding the bridge of his nose. He has a headache, like he’s the one who’s been drinking. It’s only going to get worse, too, heading off to go spend his Saturday with Andrew fucking Curtis and his loose flannel.

The sun’s rising slowly, lighting the hall in a warm glow. Joel pads quietly into your room and pulls the cover back over his side of the mattress. You stir; your head jerks only to move some hair from your face, and then you sigh, sleep pulling you back into its arms.

He watches you for a second. Wishes he could run a light hand down your cheek, kiss your head. Whisper a goodbye, the same way you did to him almost a week ago.

He shakes the thought, collecting his boots from the floor. His hand hovers over his shirt for a moment. And then he lifts it by the collar, lays it neatly on the pillow by your head, and leaves. You can keep it, trash it, burn it. But it’s yours. Everything about him is yours.

In the kitchen, he stands by the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. It’s a quarter to six. This early on a Saturday, he figures he’ll be in Waco by seven, seven-thirty latest. His eyes fix on the spot you two stood last night, yelling back and forth about Lois. She seems so far away, now. He can barely remember the shape of her face, the sound of her voice.

His grip tightens around the mug. He places it in the sink, and grabs his keys. As he passes the stairs, he pauses. Leans on one foot, head tilted to listen out for any sound of life. Any fucking sound – the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door handle. Anything to keep him here. Anything.

Nothing comes. No sound, no movement, no you.

He closes the front door gently on his way out.

----------

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@slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #fic: cowboy like me #smut #fluff #angst

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raccoonsface · 3 months ago

Text

“T-Tara?” Pt.2

____________——————————____________

Words- About 750

Warnings- angst or fluff, idk tbh. Swearing, idk what else

Just to say some stuff, I lost my other emails’ password and that email was connected to my other account so I’m on this one now. Sorry for being gone for so long too!

Summary- Y/n and Tara have a crush on each other and go to great lengths to make sure they have them all to themselves.

————————______________———————-

Part 1

______________————————_____________

“Jeez the suns out early”

Tara has just woken up from her sleep, she was tired from all the running around yesterday.

She almost falls back asleep because of it but then she turns over and takes a look at her clock

“SHIT! ITS 10:30 AM IM LATE FOR SCHOOL”

She rushes to get all of her stuff packed so she can make it to school before lunch, which is at 11:30, so it shouldn’t be that hard… right?

“Okay I’m fucked… I can’t find my keys.”

Oh Well she’s fucked

————————______________———————-

______________————————_____________

Tara’s POV

“I’m gonna fucking die”

I’m not gonna make it there in time, come on Tara run faster. Damn it’s hot out

Fuck I didn’t bring my inhaler, again?!What the fuck Tara, you’re gonna die on the side of the street. I’ve gotta sit down, yeah the sidewalk under this tree looks fine.

“Damn two days in a row”

Is this heaven? Ugh it’s too bright here.

“Hah, no this isn’t heaven Tara” oh it’s Y/n

“Well if it isn’t then what am I doing looking at a goddess” damn what’s going on right now

“Geez don’t you got the pick up lines when you’re literally gasping for air”

She’s funny, and really pretty

“Okay, Tara here you go” Her and that extra inhaler

I mean it definitely feels way better when I can breathe that’s for sure, but every time I look at her I loose my breath anyways so I don’t really see the point in it.

“You good Tara?” So kind

“Huh, oh yeah” me and my dumbass self

“Okay good… what are you doing running out here with a backpack on anyways?” Looking for a princess like you

“Oh- uhm I’m running late for school”

“Huh, I didn’t know there was school on Saturdays” shit of course it’s Saturday, that’s why my alarm didn’t go off.

“Oh… I forgot it was Saturday” oh my god you sound like an idiot Tara!

“Huh, well you need a ride to get home?” I think I’m gonna faint

“Uhm I mean if you’re willing to” Oh. My. God.

“I mean if you want me to” of course I do beautiful.

“Uh I mean yeah sure”

“Okay, yeah, alright uhm my cars over there”

“Right! Right, I gotta get up” oh my god she’s reaching out her hand towards me, oh I’m gonna die when I get home

“Thanks”

“Yeah, no problem” She seems kinda shy.. it’s probably nothing I’m over analyzing

“Damn this car seat is comfy” no like holy shit this is comfy

“Yeah, I know, they’re custom seats.” Of course they are

“Anyways where do you live?” Oh right!

“Oh uhm it’s uhh” me and my damn it stuttering

“You wanna go eat instead? I mean you must be hungry from all that running, and I don’t mean to-“ aww she’s so cute I can’t believe I survived without her before

“I’d love to go out with you- I mean yeah I’m down to go eat with you” what the hell Tara

“Huh, right, anyways where should we go?” Shit I don’t know

“Uhm, let’s go tooooooo…” I have no idea where to go eat

“How about we drive around and figure out where to eat..?” Phew!

“Yeah I think that’s probably the better idea” she’s really smart… she could be my wife..

OKAY NO Tara get yourself together. You cannot do this. But she’s so perfect.. maybe just maybe. I can’t even fight it anymore.. I need her. I need Y/n.

————————______________———————-

Oh my god. A lot has happened in the past two months. The meaning behind this new account is between the warnings and the summary at the top.

Sorry for the short post! They’ll be way more sooner!

I have a three part series for Astrid Deetz, the last two parts will probably come out after the movie is released because I can’t really get much off of her character just from the trailer

Anyways hope you guys have had a nice day!

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 year ago

Note

IDEA FOR UR TEENAGERS SERIES THINGY

Reader discovers how to use her super speed powers again while shes hanging out with all the other spiders (miles, gwen, pav, ofc her bf hobie) and they decide to go swinging around the city on her planet while shes running instead (maybe theyre having a race or something idk)

OOO

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬... 𝐏𝐭 𝟏𝟏

“Okay, so basically, you have super speed and you can control time?!” Miles exclaimed, as he drunk his shake.

“Well.. I used to be able to. I can’t do either anymore. I don’t know why but..” you shrugged, taking a sip of yours and Hobies drink.

“I definitely did not see that coming.” Gwen mumbled.

“Yeah, my girl is even cooler now, ain’t she.” He put his arm around you.

“Your girl? Thought you didn’t like labels.”

“I don’t. And you ain’t no one’s property, and you are a free woman to do whatever you want, but you are my girl.”

You looked at him in confusion but laughed. “All right then..”

“Nothing of what you just said made sense, bro.” Pavitr said.

You all laughed.

“I say.. we all have a race. Like a swinging race.”

“What about me?” You asked.

“You can run.. who knows maybe your power will come back.” Miles said, as a joke.

“Ha ha, very funny. Sure, that’s cool.” You hit his arm.

“Sounds good to me.” Pavitr said.

“Sure.” Hobie shrugged.

“Cool.” Gwen said.

You all left after a while, everyone getting ready to start swinging.

“Okay, so where do we meet?”

“Just like uh…that one park we went to.” Miles said.

“Alright.” You said.

“That’s like… 3 miles away.” Miles looked at you.

You sighed.

“If it’s too much I’ll get an Uber or something.” You shrugged.

“Alright, suit yourself.”

“1, 2, and… 3!” They all started to swing, feet off the ground. As soon as you ran, something felt off. You didn’t run often, and it was odd.

First you started off normally, then the speed increased. It increased to the point where your shoes went on fire, and you were at the park in a matter of seconds. The whole team stopped for a moment and stared in shock.

“What the-“ you mumbled, yelling as you realized your shoes were on fire. The kids and parents staring at you.

You put out the fire, and sighed.

“What?” You looked at everyone staring.

You looked and saw everyone still swinging. Hobie with a giant smile on his face as you stood there in complete shock.

“This is crazy. This is absolutely fucking crazy.” You mumbled to yourself, pacing back and fourth.

Hobie raced down to you when he got on the ground, around him turning a bright pink as his eye lenses were wide.

“Holy shit, that was so cool! We were all like ‘oh fuck mate, what the fuck is that?’ And I haven’t gotten a scooby doo on how it happened but-“

“Hobie what the fuck am I supposed to do?!” You grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna live my life running like the fuckin’ flash!”

“Don’t know who that is, but I’m sure he’s cool.”

“He is but I don’t want this.. these stupid.. oh my god. Does this mean my time powers are back to?”

“Holy shit. My future wife is so fuckin’ sick.” He said.

“Hobie! This isn’t a good thing-“

“It should be! This is fuckin’ amazing, darling.”

You sighed. “How am I gonna explain this to Miguel? He’s already pissed that we keep jumping dimensions to meet up.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“What?”

“If you don’t wanna tell him, I will.

You sighed. “All right. I’ll tell him.”

Hobie smiled and kissed you.

“Also, I kinda ruined your converse..” you said.

He looked at the shoes you had on, you lifted your leg and showed the bottom of it.

“Ehh. It’s whatever. I’ll get new ones.” He shrugged.

“By her do you by any chance mean steal?”

“You know me so well.”

“I sure do.”

Tag list:

@enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @artsykerfuffleplus @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider man across the spider verse #teenagers hobie brown series

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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Text

Monday of Appreciation: Part 101

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY of Monday of Appreciation!

My first MoA post was posted on the 20th of September 2021, two years. Time really flies, huh? I don't want this to be just another MoA 100 post, but I really gotta thank you all, especially because Part 100 received so much love, God, it made me so happy <3 It was a kinda cathartic moment, the series had an epic peak... all thanks to you.

I definitely also want to thank all the writers, without whom this all wouldn't exist. My way of thanking you all is by... featuring a FUCKTON of stories below. Even if you are not featured (first of all, I'm sorry lol), I still appreciate your work and comradery in the bunker. Y'all are amazing <3

LET'S GET TO IT!!!

No. 1: @dnd-writes: Way of Water ft. Eunbi

Ah yes, Waterbomb Eunbi. The event that captured us all. The idea with the backup dancer is straight forward, nice, but the greatest thing about this is the watersports. Waterbomb, watersports... you get it? Just read it.

No.2: @leafostuff: No Names Needed ft. Sheon (Billlie)

Thanks to Leafo for spreading the good word of Sheon and her... goddamn midriff. No more reasons needed, appreciate this girl already, ugh.

No. 3: @iznsfw: The Devil's Telephone ft. Yujin

Everything IZ touches skips the part where it turns to gold. Fuck gold, IZ just creates diamondtic-masterpieces. I was thrilled to learn about this fic and when I read it... IZ did it again! This portrayal of Yujin is everything. What are we to your might!

No. 4: @idyllicidols: Cheat Day ft. Wonyoung

Wonyoung gangbang with her fans? I bet you all are already foaming at your mouth. Go on. Read it. Leave some love for this talented writer after getting your loads off the screen.

No. 5: @rvp32: Whisper of Uncontrollable Desire ft. Chaewon

Let me tell you, rvp is great! They don't hold back, they go all out, they try A/B/O, they like futa (please write futa!) and they have a Gaeul series. This one fucking sent me <3

No. 6: @existslikepristin: Not Summer Yet ft. Jeongyeon

Thx ELP for the nice message on Part 100! Thanks also for giving us these crazy pieces again and again (well, this one isn't too crazy for your standards, but you get me). This felt really intimate, liked it!

No. 7: @dreamcatchers-husband: The City of Love and Secrets ft. Sejeong

You better learn French for this fic. But fr, now I wanna go to Paris and marry a beautiful girl before :floshed: filling her up because she truly is mine now ahhhhh

No. 8: @capslocked: SERENDIPITY ft. Eunbi

Caps, Caps, Caps, Caps, Caps, what am I gonna do with you? Your fics are ALWAYS in my to read list and when I get to them... yeah, takes more than one attempt... more like five. Fuck you, I love you.

No. 9: @ggidolsmuts: Sin, Hormones and the Starlet's Boyfriend ft. Yunjin, Somi

HOLY FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, that was so FUCKING hot, I caaaaan't stop meeeeee, this is so good, I need more of this. Yeah, basically every ddeun fic makes me go like this. What a fucking legend, man.

No. 10: @smuttysabina: A Pervert Bred by Perverts only Breeds more Perverts ft. E:U (Everglow)

As you can see, the title is quite elaborate on what happens in this fic. A bunch of perverts, a lot (and I do mean a LOT) of cum to breed and in the end everyone is happy. You too, you filthy pervert?

No. 11: @writingsomesin-amber: Puppies' New Toy Part 3 ft. LSFM, Xiaoting

FUTA, the best kind of futa. The one with Alphas, with Kazuha (who always has a HUGE cock), with boundless sex that's just horny nonsense. This is what I want to read. Thank you for writing it!

No. 12: @co-reborn: [PPV] BG SEX PERFECT PINK HAIR KOREAN COLLEGE GIRL RIDES AND GETS CREAMPIED - Full Ver ($30).mp4 ft. Jiheon

This is a sequel to probably the best porn focused smut to ever exist. Thank you, c.o, for creating this, for making it a universe and for dropping another Jiheon smut. She hot, you hot <3

No. 13: @pfxhk: Staircase: Prepotent Pleasure ft. Yuqi

Kaaajin <3 finally another Yuqi fic and a very good one at that. I want her hot lips wrapped around me too now.

No. 14: @rosiesmuts: After Dark ft. Rose

Rose little fuck doll. Her pics lately have been mind-fucking or sth like that, I dunno, just sex. Oh, and I know a lot of good things happen late at night.

No. 15: @akkaweo-akkaweo: Treatment ft. Jinsoul

That's the treatment wr allll want from our dear Jinsoul. Her gorgeous visuals have really stunned me since she joined Modhaus. Now paint that pretty face.

No. 16: @mode-lfy: Jinni (SMUT) ft. Jinni (ex-NMIXX)

Sooooo... when does Jinni unzip my pants, first thing in the morning finally come back?

Edit: SHE ACTUALLY IS?!?! LFG!

No. 17: @worldsover: link in bio top 0.1% creator ft. Jiheon

This one is the follow-up to c.o's [PVV], so we got a whole-ass universe with pornstar!Jiheon now. What a blessing, and it leaves us with no doubt that Jihron would reach that 0.1% if she'd show her cute face and bubble butt on cam... when tho???

No. 18: @allthekingssmut: She's Rough And Coarse And Gets Everywhere ft. Heejin

Star Wars is already a win in my book, pair it with hotness everywhere (the sun, a mechanic, her face) and it only gets better and better. The release to all the fucking tension between those two is EPIC. Great fic!

No. 19: @writerpeach: Overindulgent ft. Wonyoung

To say I have over-indluged in this fic would be a massive understatement. When Peach let's loose and pours out tens of thousands of words of unpure smut, we know we got ourselves a massive hit, no matter the idol. To make it even better, Wonyoung.

No. 20: @okaylikesmomo: Kampfyre Part 1 - Vocals ft. Winter

Just one word: vocal training. Wait, that is two words! So Imma a need okay to write a second part to this, because Winter has not been trained enough (imo).

No. 21: @pupyuj: Magic Words ft. Wonyoung (fem!reader)

More love to female reader fics! Especially thise one, with this sweet and spicy Wony that makes girls' legs weak and mine too xD Thank you for this great story and hot smut!

No. 22: @usedpidemo: Parasailing ft. Yuri, Minju

This story feels so nostalgic, so oddly familiar. Like I was there throughout it all and feel entitled to the release at the end. This fic has me gliding, high on their two perfect bodies.

No. 23: @summersault31: Concerto Pt. 1 ft. IU

Blowjobs under the table while tempting another woman into your sinful lifestyle... this combines a clichee with a hook that has you begging: Summer, where is Part 2?

No. 24: @midnightdancingsol: I swear, the Bear Poked Me! ft. futa!Minji x Danielle

Now for the futa appreciation. I think Sol is perfect for this, especially because the mere thought of Minji fucking Dani with her... HUGE COCK... so big and... were was I? Oh yeah, Hanni is also in this.

No. 25: @maemisnippets: You're Mine, Cheeks ft. Chaehyun (fluff)

In between 29 smuts, there is this one short fluff by our dear Maems. Well deserved, I must say. Keep it up, qt, always fun bits to read.

No. 26: @mintwithchoco: [CYMX-461] ft. Choerry, Jinsoul

Monopoly can be so much fun, if you are willing to strike some questionable deals to further your chances of winning and everyone's chances to have a good time. Bathtub sex?

No. 27: @nichuuu: Where our blue is ft. Rei

A beautiful story, it truly made me fall in love with Rei, her strive and determination, her failure, her rise---and the insane, drawn-out fucking at the end. Where our blue is has it all and I have to congratulate @nichuuu: In between all these great writers, this story really stuck out to me!

No. 28: @svndaysaweek: Niche ft. Hanni

Cute little Hanni in need of her step-brother, because she is so deeply in love with him... this was so adorable and sweet at the start and then went into an excessive smut part that fried my brain.

No. 29: @sinswithpleasure: You Can Watch, But You Can't Touch [At Least, Not Yet] ft. Mina, Sana, Momo

I. Would. Not. Last. There is no shame in me saying this, but I just couldn't, with these three hotties right in front of me. Blast it all over their bodies, hng.

No. 30: @xiakato: Ella Baila Sola ft. Xiaoting

Hm, maybe Xiaoting should dance alone, I'm not really good at it though my Just Dance scores would beg to differ.

Hey, if you read all of that, you're fucking awesome. I appreciate you, and hope, you have a great week ahead. Until the next MoA, goodbye!

#mondayofappreciation #kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert

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joelsmochi · 1 year ago

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Us Against the World

A/N: How easy is it to come back after a 4 month (unplanned) hiatus? Not easy. At all. Sorry for my absence darlings, a lot has been going on from moving to health issues to new jobs… It’s been so hectic that I am willing to admit that this piece of garbage was also being worked on over the entire 4 months I hadn’t posted. This was all I could conjure up, but I wanted to polish this off so I could move onto the next project, so I also apologize for how rushed this one kind of ends + it doesn’t have the same lighthearted tone as the first 2 parts. Regardless I hope you enjoy reading (don’t judge it too critically… I’m begging.) Also I think when I pasted this it got rid of my italicized and bolded words -.- (i am serious about italics)

warnings: 18+, kinda mean!jealous!insecure!joel, cclg/ddlg [attitude] dynamic, punishment (but it’s really a reward ;]), angst, more panty kink, some useless scenes, chance of getting caught, a little sadness and a bit cheesy, lazily proofread so expect grammar issues + typos!, i don’t wanna spoil so it ends there byeee (let me know if i missed any please!)

wc: 10k (will the length make up for how bad it is? no? ok >.<)

series masterlist | main masterlist

The bar was filled with laughter and short applause from people winning their games. It smelled slightly of stale alcohol and oak wood.

You had just walked in with Joel behind you. As you were taking in your surroundings, Joel had already seen a guy or two look you up and down. He chose not to say anything. They weren’t worth the trouble.

You both sat at the bar and ordered two beers though you weren’t necessarily trying to getting drunk tonight. You just wanted to keep your promise of making him jealous.

He didn’t think you’d actually go through with it, but when he saw your eyes go from your fresh drink to scanning the men around the bar he knew he was in for a real treat.

“You’re serious ‘bout this?” He rhetorically asked.

You only gave him part of a smile and a shrug to say and what if I am?

He half rolled his eyes and sipped his beer, immediately grimacing at its subpar taste.

“Fine. Do whateeeeever you want, little girl. Just like you always do,” he said. “Gon’ and dance for other guys. I don’t give a damn.”

You glared at him when he called you a little girl, keening a dark chuckle from him. He was poking the bear inside you, waiting for the moment you would choose to give up on your cunning idea.

You stood up out of spite and slowly walked over to a man roughly your age, clad in some lousy outfit that somehow made him stand out to you.

The teasing smirk Joel was wearing replaced itself with a scowl. You swore you felt him shooting daggers into your back as you whispered in the younger man’s ear.

“Wanna dance?”

The boy looked at you with excitement and surprise, bashfully nodding and following you when you pulled him next to the other dancing couples.

You pressed your back into his and looked everywhere except for where Joel was sitting, swaying your hips in sync with your dance partner and occasionally pressing back into his crotch gently.

Joel stared long and hard at the boy who was just using the curve of your ass to jerk off, yet when his eyes wandered to you, all he could do was think about using you like that, only with fewer clothes on.

The song ended and Joel thought it would be the end of your shenanigans; he watched as you whispered in the young man’s ear again, and once you pulled away he motioned for his friend to come over.

Another young man approached the front of you, and you gave him a flirty smile as your arms linked around his neck.

Joel was gritting his teeth so hard he was sure he heard one crack. He wanted to keep his cool, not give you the satisfaction, but watching you dance for men that were your age when he was already insecure about being thirteen years older than you pissed him off.

He knew you were just having fun, but fucking hell.

He hated seeing those idiots practically fucking hump you in the middle of the bar. They were feral and inadequate compared to Joel who knew they could never take care of you the way you needed to be taken care of.

Joel had about enough when the boy in front of you began slipping his thumbs underneath your baby tee and saw how it made you tense up so he reached in his wallet for cash to pay for the drinks. Then, he stomped over you and grabbed your arm, snatching your body from between the two men.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” Joel growled at them before pulling you behind him. He felt you resisting his grip after entering the parking lot so he grabbed your hips and picked you up. He sat you in the passenger seat then got in himself, driving back home without saying a word.

You knew you were in for it.

Once you two made it to his place you were trying to get Joel to speak to you. He just gave you a hard look and tossed you over his shoulder without further resistance; he carried you to his bedroom, sat down, and forced you to bend over in his lap.

“I’m sorry, Jo—ow!”

He had landed a firm slap across the back of your thigh and then broke the zipper on your shorts from yanking them down. Your hips ached from the waistband digging into your bones. You tried wiggling from his grasp causing him to grab a fistful of your hair and yank it back.

He smoothed a hand over the peaks of your ass for a few seconds, not wanting to hurt his precious girl.

But then he remembered how you left him without a care in the world just to spite him.

He gave you another spank that burned furiously against your flesh and forced a cry out of your throat.

“I’ll never do it again,” you pleaded, “I swear! Joel—“

Another smack.

“Fuckin’ damn right, you won’t,” he grunted, watching your ass color red. “You wanna fuck some dumb college boy, huh?”

You whimpered and waved your feet around desperately.

Smack! “Answer me when I ask you a question. Do you wanna fuck people your own fucking age?”

You shook your head frighteningly fast, waving your feet around more as if it would get him to release your hair but his grip only tightened. “No, Joel! I only want you—just you. Please, Joel, I’m sorry.”

He tugged at your panties, not too harshly, just gently enough to create a wedge between your cheeks. You were thankful he didn’t notice your eyes roll back and the soft moan that left you from the friction against your throbbing clit and asshole.

“My ol’ ass not enough for you? S’that it?” He whispered in your ear.

“Of course not—“

He popped you again from your words before pulling your panties up again, hating how you said it like it should have been obvious.

He watched you grind into the taut cloth, humping his knee. Although it was a subconscious movement from your body it didn’t stop him from letting out a humorous laugh.

“So fucking needy, ain’t ya?” He cooed, releasing the fabric and trailing a thick finger down the wet spot in your panties. “M’over here punishin’ you and you’re fucking my leg.”

“M’sorry,” you mumbled.

“You like it when I spank you?” He cooed in your ear; you nodded and he chuckled softly, tickling the hairs along your neck. “Yeah?”

“I like it when—… When you pull my panties,” you bashfully admit. “Feels good.”

He slowly let your hair go and cradled your jaw softly to keep your head up. With a smirk, he toyed with the linings of your panties. “You like when I hurt that pretty little ass a’yours?”

You hummed, taking one of his fingers in your mouth. He circled the pad of his middle finger around the rim of your clothed asshole, letting out a hum or a chuckle every time he felt it pulse.

“You’re gonna be good from now on, girl?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whispered against his fingers, spit drooling into his palm.

“Good,” he hummed softly, “good.”

“Can you,” you paused, unsure of why you were still acting shy. “Can you please pull my panties again?”

He happily obliged, starting a little gentler this time. He watched the shadow of your face contort with pleasure while you moaned softly, grinding your clit into his knee some more.

He watched one of your swollen pussy lips escape from the constriction so he pulled them some more to make the other lip appear.

You moaned at the thin fabric being engulfed by your cunt, clenching so more of your juices oozed out.

You felt his finger gently slip beneath the fabric to rub your wet entrance. You exhaled at his long finger slipping inside of you, collecting your slick before sliding it up to your asshole to circle it briefly.

He removed his finger and snuggled your panties up more. The friction stung your skin deliciously. He landed a smack on your ass cheek with the noise piercing your ears; you yelped and flinched, seductively laughing afterward.

Joel noticed the outline of his hand appearing along your flesh, red and bruised. He kneaded it with his palm and told you to bend over the edge of his bed. Once you were on your stomach again you felt him pull your shorts off of you completely, then your panties. His hands warmed over your thighs, grazing your ass and touching your lower back. He pressed his thumbs in slightly to massage you there for a few seconds before he slid his hands back down again to spread your ass.

You held your lip between your teeth throughout his touches, not wanting to make any noises in case he wanted you quiet.

The cool arousal leaving your body dripped down to your clit almost making you flinch from the temperature difference. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, seeking his fingers or his tongue or his cock — anything. His laugh was taunting and raspy, seeing how desperate you were for him.

"Such a needy girl, hmm?" He took a deep breath leaning into your flesh; his tongue scooped up your juices from your clit to your ass in one long, heavy lick. You gasped, surprised by the sudden contact. You were left disappointed when he didn’t continue lapping at you, but a rush of joy ran through you at the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you.

He heard your simpering little giggle, smiling at how cute it sounded but still popping your right ass cheek where you had begun to bruise. You hissed, chewing on your lip while he undressed from the waist down.

He teased his length along your slit, spreading your wetness upwards and slapping his fat tip roughly against the tight ring of muscle.

And it fucking hurt, more than you were expecting, but judging by Joel’s chuckle he already knew it would.

You understood his need to humiliate you. That was the whole reason for doing what you did. You wanted him to have his way with you just as you had a few nights ago.

But you hurt his feelings more than you expected to and much more than he would like to admit.

He slapped your puckering hole even harder to elicit a response from you, satisfied when you groaned his name.

“Joooel, that hurts.”

He lined up with your pussy, not quite touching you yet. His only response was, “Good,” before shoving his thick cock inside of you.

You screamed at him tearing your walls apart with cruelty, clenching furiously around him to try and adjust quicker.

But he wouldn’t let you.

He pulled out of you to watch your muscles flex for a second, then rammed back inside of you; he stayed as deep as he could.

After ensuring your stomach would remain glued to the bed his lips pressed a wet kiss to the rim of your ear. He listened to your soft cries, feeling your hips wriggle beneath him.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asked again.

You panted with annoyance and told him, “If you fucking ease up on me.”

It was an absentminded comment with consequences you’d be dealing with for days. Joel just clicked his tongue at you and dug his hips into your flesh deeper. His cockhead nudged your cervix serving up a mixture of pain and pleasure throughout your stomach.

He didn’t want to be too mean, however, so he pulled back and pushed his weight into your lower back from his palms. Your stomach being smooshed into the bed made the impacts of his thrusts feel deeper than they were.

Your precum enthusiastically coated his shaft, lubing your entrance as he rammed into you. Your voice was breathy as you spoke.

“Joel—th-that feels… That feels good.” Your eyelids hung low creating a blurry line of vision, head bobbing from his stuttering hips.

“You like getting fucked like a slut?” He spat to which you confirmed. “S’that why you act like one?”

You admitted your faults, not wanting him to ease up on you.

“You wanna fucking dance on someone again?”

You didn’t respond, too immersed in how good he was touching you.

He grunted, pulling out of you leaving strings of your precum mixed with his hanging; he flipped you around and wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, using his other hand to hold you at the base of your spine. He lifted you off of the bed, making you yelp.

Once he got into a comfortable position he removed his hand from your neck, showing you how strong he was being able to hold you up on his own. Your legs looped around his waist as he stood tall, your hands clinging to the broad peaks of his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he whispered; not wanting to be scolded again you lazily obliged. He laughed like a bully at your worn-out expression. “You’re so pretty like this, already fucked out like you can’t handle it.”

“Too much,” you complained against his lips in a short breath.

His hips snapped into yours, jolting your eyes wide open. “I don’t care. You wanted to act like a slut, so you’re gonna have to get fucked like one.”

“Joel—“

He shut you up by shoving his free fingers into your mouth, while the nails of his other hand dug into your back.

He didn’t want to hear your apologies anymore, or your complaints. He wanted you to shut up and take it, like a good fucking girl.

He saw the hindrance of innocence in your eyes that tried to beckon his forgiveness. He ignored it, meeting you with a punishing frown. The heavyweight stare riddled your nerves with anxiety — you didn’t want to disappoint him again.

He ravaged your attitude, breaking you down until he got his way with you just like you had all this time.

“You gonna be a good girl?” He asked again, shoving his fingers further back. You hummed into his hand and nodded, eyes as wide as saucers. He gasped when you twirled your tongue around his digits, slurping up the taste of his flesh. “You like that?”

“Mmhmmm.”

He experimented by pushing his fingers deeper, hitting the back of your throat; you gagged and coughed, but bit down on his knuckles so that he wouldn’t take them out.

His thrusts slowed because he was too focused on feeling your throat, something that felt entirely different against his fingers versus his cock.

Seeking his approval, you took this as an opportunity to fuck yourself on him. With your shaky fingers pressing into his shoulder blades you lifted you rocked your hips up and down, clenching around his length often.

“Look at’cha… You need to cum baby?” His fingers left your mouth indicating he wanted a verbal response.

“Yes, please,” you whimpered. “I’ll be good for you.”

“You’ll be good?”

“Yes. Fuck—yes. I’ll be so good for you, Joel. I promise. I’ll be a good girl for you.”

He moaned at your cunt gripping him, smiling at how you humped him. You couldn’t hide your deprivation from him any longer, but he wanted you to earn it.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he instructed, smirking when you did so immediately. He gripped your ass with both of his wide hands to steady you. “Yeah, there you go. S’pretty like this…”

Your hair was glued to the sweat on your face and your eyes were low with a wave of tears waiting to spill onto your cheeks. Your teeth waned behind your red lips as you gurgled from choking on your saliva.

“You’re so pretty for me, princess,” he cooed; despite the softness in his voice, his tone was still suggestive of his anger.

He was on the verge of forgiving you, but he still wasn’t quite there yet.

Your arms and core were growing weaker the harder you worked your body on his, but you were so determined to cum — and to do it on his command.

“Tell me how pretty you are,” he said with a devilish grin widening.

You were a little lost — what exactly did he want?

“Hmm?” You hummed, unintentionally slowing down.

“Tell me… How pretty you are,” he said again.

“Um…” Your mind was blank, God, Joel could really fuck you stupid, couldn’t he? “I’m—I’m so pretty,” you whispered.

You couldn’t think of what to say.

Maybe if I compliment myself the way Joel does…

“You like how pretty I am for you?” You asked. “All fucked out from your cock?”

His eyes rolled shut as he let out an obscenely long groan.

He liked that, you thought.

“I look so pretty with your cock stretching me out, don’t I? Hmm, yes, fuck—ah! You make me so pretty when you let me fuck myself on you, Joel—gah! Do you—fuck. Do you wanna see how pretty I am when I cum like this?”

His eyes shot open at the proposal, the only words his mind was able to compute being, “Yes, princess. Yes, yes, cum for me—mnh, God. You feel so fucking good.”

His words were encouraging enough to keep you going, long enough to light that fire that tickled you red.

“Show me how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum for me, baby.”

Your ass stung from him squeezing where his punishment landed, adding fuel to your rising orgasm.

He saw it spread across your precious body: your eyes wavering between open and close, your mouth pouting with his name leaving your tight throat, your nipples peaking, goosebumps flaring across your entire body.

You were flushed red and heaving and Joel couldn’t look away. You looked so ethereal, wrapping your fluttering pussy around the base of his dick and grinding in circular motions.

Pins and needles poked your arms from holding your weight, but the climax felt too good to let up so soon. You were sensitive, knotty, and engulfed in the stillness you were finally able to have.

“My pretty girl,” Joel whispered sweetly.

You opened your lazy eyes, giving him a soft smile. “Show me how pretty you are when you cum,” you said against his lips.

He took a moment to catch his breath before propping his arms underneath your thighs one by one. Your body thanked you for the relief.

Your cunt squelched cum onto his balls while the air thickened with the aroma of sex and sweat.

So sleepy, you felt as he continued to drive his hips into you, but he was so handsome in the low light of the moon. You felt your soul tie to his own, blending your orgasm into admiration for the man.

This was anything but the casual agreement you two had come to weeks ago, but fuck was it well worth it. His jealousy was a sign of a weakness he only possessed when it came to you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he whispered with need. You wrapped your hands around his jawline and pressed his lips against yours.

The slip of your tongue against his was nasty. It was fucking filthy. You licked each other anywhere you could reach, coating one another in saliva as if to mark your territories.

Joel whimpered against your lips, admitting his arrival in the middle of the kiss. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming. I—…”

His mouth parted as he brought you impossibly close to his body, and he felt a knee nearly give out from the intensity of his orgasm. He drifted his body to the floor so he could sit on his knees, not wanting to drop you.

His thrusts were small and deep as he continued ruining your sore walls with his ropes of cum.

Still entangled in a series of kisses, they simmered to a savory pace. You tasted each other and relished in the filthy mix of bodily fluids.

You’d never been so sweaty from sex in your life yet it felt so fucking amazing.

He pumped you so full of cum that even with his cock plugging you a little bit of it managed to leak out. You both smiled at the feeling and broke away from each other's lips.

With your head tossed back on the edge of his bed and his head resting on your chest, you just sat there in silence.

His hands gloss over your back and your fingers stroking the wet curls on his head. You wanted to stay here forever, clinging to him like a bear to a tree.

He pressed a kiss onto your collarbone before raising his head to look at you.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm,” you moaned shut-eyed, obviously very tired from sex. He grunted from standing up again and laid you in the cold bed before grabbing your panties and slipping them back up your legs. You finished it for him, making sure they were snug against your entrance to keep the cum from spilling out too much.

“I’ll go get some takeout, princess.”

You hummed with a small smile at his new nickname for you, feeling him press a kiss to your temple before you fell into a deep slumber.

“What are you doin’?” Joel yawned as he entered the kitchen.

“I am making us eggs and only eggs because you have a poor selection of breakfast foods.”

He snickered, closing the space between you and wrapping his warm arms around your waist. “Well, thank you, princess,” he mumbled against the curve of your neck.

His fingers slipped beneath the shirt you borrowed from him and found the hem of your panties. You didn’t allow his hands to distract you as you spread the fluffy eggs out over two plates.

“I guess this…” His fingers slipped inside of your partially wet cunt, curling just the way you like. “…is my breakfast.”

You shivered as goosebumps poked your skin from the motion of his hand, and you smirked to yourself when his other hand tugged at your panties. Once they hit the ground he bent you over slightly to pull his cock out, gliding it along your slit to tease you. You turned the stove off and gripped the counter, careful to not burn yourself.

Not even a moment later you felt his velvety cock smack against the peak of your ass, and you moaned at how warm he felt against your cold flesh.

“Joel,” you exhaled. “You’re fucking ruining me.”

“Y’say it like it’s a bad thing,” he grunted whilst sliding inside of you.

You moaned, eyes closing softly. “Not at all.”

He rolled his hips slowly, careful not to break you any more than he did just the night before. His hot breath filled your ears with decadent compliments about how good you were for him and how much he wanted to show his appreciation.

Joel fought a moan every time he saw your eyelashes flutter shut and heard you sharply inhale between gritted teeth. His confession of admiration seemed to hold more weight than before. That knot inside of you gushes at his rasps of affection, pushing you toward the edge.

You focused on how he felt, every little thing he was doing: his left hand held you steady at your hip while his right stroked your hair calmly as if you were his new pet kitten. His hips curled into the shape of you as if his body was planting kisses anywhere you managed to still be bruised from his punishments. His thighs trembled against the back of your stiff legs, urging you to let go whenever you were ready, not quite rushing you.

His voice was staggering and cracking, the words I love you straining against his throat from him suffocating it with praises instead.

You knew all of the you’re doing so good f’me’s and you sound so beautiful’s and you look so pretty with my cock inside of you’s were just invulnerably hidden I love you’s, but it didn’t bother you.

You understood what he truly meant and that’s all you needed for now.

His lovely teeth nibbled into the valley of your ear earning a giggle from you; you were so close—so fucking close. You needed more.

You tried rubbing your swollen and throbbing clit yourself but it wasn’t enough. Joel’s need to take care of you radiated from the heat of his body and you craved more of his touch; you moved his hand from your hip to your stiff bud, guiding his fingers to perform the way you sought.

His fingers were strong and thick and just what you needed to overflow, clawing at his bicep, leaning your head back to rest upon his shoulder.

It felt so good to be held by him. A longing that burrowed itself into your soul resurfaced. Ready to be fulfilled by him.

His words turned into simpering little mewls of yes’s and cum for me’s as you clenched around him.

He knew you were just barely there and he was adamant on not changing his pace or patterns if it meant he could watch you crumble.

Joel’s right hand left your hair and held your agape jaw to keep your head from bobbing too much after one of your legs buckled and your grip around his muscles tightened. He increased the force of his thrusts emphasizing the sound of his hips clapping against your heated skin.

His body was aching from the lack of rest but every moan you let out was so soft and subtle that it motivated him to continue.

Your breathing was shallow, filled with whimpers since he wouldn’t ease up on your sore cunt, but you loved it. Your body craved the sin of secrecy that had Joel’s name written all over it.

All the sneaking around, lying, and pretending you two are nothing more than long-time neighbors made all of this worth it. The games. Chasing each other. Waiting days—if not weeks just for a kiss was the thrill of it all.

Deep down you knew it couldn’t last forever; it’d either have to come out or come to an end. But couldn’t you live in the fantasy just for a little while,

moaning Joel’s name a little longer,

feeling the thick cum etched between your bodies,

feeling him stiffen up or jolt whenever your breath hit his sensitive ears,

laughing every time he accidentally slipped out,

getting so carried away that you couldn’t hear anything else…

…Like the garage door opening.

“Oh! Shit!”

You and Joel immediately pulled away, shocked by the sudden boom of Tommy’s voice; with trembling legs, you struggled your underwear back up while Joel tried to tuck in what refused to be hidden.

“Sorry, guys, I didn’t…” Tommy’s voice trailed off as he looked over and realized it was… You?

Wearing one of Joel’s big t-shirts and some rainbow-striped socks, Tommy said your name as if he couldn’t believe it was you. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out.

“Jesus, Tommy. Quit lookin’ at her like that,” Joel complained while ushering Tommy into the next room.

“Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat.” Joel briefly looked back at you with those puppy eyes of his and asked if you were okay. You could only give him a tense nod in response.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in before looking at the plate of now-cold eggs.

Embarrassed wasn’t even the word. Distress curled around every crevice in the pit of your stomach making you feel nauseous.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, regaining enough composure to grab two forks from the utensils drawer and take them out to the living room where the two men sat and spoke.

“Here you go, Tommy,” you said sheepishly while trying to pretend that you weren’t avoiding eye contact. Turning to Joel you said, “I’m gonna head home.”

“You don’t have to leave ‘cus I’m here,” Tommy said, his apologetic tone emphasizing his indication. “I didn’t mean to impose or nothin’, it was… Just a surprise.”

“I gotta go shower and change my clothes anyways, so, uh…”

“Here, I’ll go help you get your things. I’ll be right back Tommy,” Joel said. You both walked up to Joel’s cluttered room where he shut the door softly and then apologized. “I forgot we picked up a job for today,” he explained.

“Well, I have been told I’m a pretty good distraction,” you teased, fumbling with last night’s clothes. He chuckled and watched as you got dressed, asking himself how it got to this point. “I probably can’t do anything until Sunday. My dad wants to take me to this new movie tomorrow, and then some event thingy Saturday.”

“Sunday, that’s…” Joel’s voice trailed off while he pretended to think about something.

You scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before hitting his arm with his t-shirt. He caught hold of it and used it to bring you closer, the grin of a jester playing on his face.

“I’m kiddin’, princess. I know it’s your birthday,” he cooed against your lips. His kiss embraced your laughter and made him smile again, but this time much more humbly. “I got you a present—but if I give it t’ya now I’ll be empty-handed in two days.”

You cocked an eyebrow up and stared at his lips causing him to vapidly blush. “You won’t be empty-handed,” you whispered. You held his hand in yours and brought it next to your face.

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm, ‘cus I’ll make sure to keep both’a your hands busy,” you teased.

He watched carefully as you brought his index finger to your drooling mouth and took it in slowly. You somewhat forced his finger down your throat pretending it was his cock. You choked on the thick digit and pouted at him with your eyes.

He gasped at the textures of your narrow throat, frowning in a way that let you you’ve ignited something in him. He fought his moans harder than he ever needed to before, staring at you gag and slurp and slobber around his finger.

You curled your tongue against the webbing of his fingers and licked all of the excess spit up into your mouth with a swift bob of your head.

This made him bite his lip to shut himself up; you decided to not bully the poor man any longer and released his hand, smirking.

“You’re gonna regret that Sunday, princess. I’ll tell you that right now,” he threatened, however, his tone was full of defeat and his voice sounded higher from the strain of silencing moans.

“What are ya gonna do about it, old man?” You teased before walking out of his room.

Your birthday was more fun than you were expecting, more than enough people showed up (granted more than half of them were your dad’s friends), and you spent more time being the photographer than the center of attention.

Joel and Tommy showed up fashionably late (you’ve chosen to believe Joel’s watch is set two hours back). Meanwhile, their arrival earned a few giggles and stares from your high school friends.

They tried to talk to you about how much hotter Joel and Tommy had gotten while you pretended not to feel the pang of jealousy in your chest whenever they gawked at Joel a little too long.

They asked if you two had hooked up since being back and the only lie you managed to conjure was, “Joel’s either always at work or with my dad, so… I haven’t really been able to try.”

“Wait, does your dad know you two used to hook up?” One of your friends, Bri asked.

Right now you were really regretting telling all those lies…

“No,” you said almost too enthusiastically, “and I plan on keepin’ it that way. Not worth the trouble.”

“Well, if Joel’s not worth the trouble to you then you wouldn’t mind if I gave it a shot, would ya?”

You resisted rolling your eyes, wavering the drink in your hand around and mumbling, “Go ahead.”

“Hey,” another friend said after tapping you on your extended arm, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea. Joel’s just one guy.” She must have noticed the defeat in your eyes.

Maybe to you, you thought.

Before you could respond Bri was sitting back down at your patio table with an embarrassed pout on her face, and for some reason, you were surprised rather than happy (okay, you were a little happy).

“What happened?” You asked.

“He said he’s seeing someone else,” she scoffed. “Do you know if he even likes blondes? Because I can always dye my hair darker.”

You chuckled, “I don’t think he has a preference.”

The rest of them changed subjects so when your eyes went searching for Joel, you found him standing next to your dad at the grill where he was already looking at you wearing a smile. You smiled at him and then turned your focus back to your friends for the remainder of the afternoon.

Once your friends had left for the night and your dad ended up in a game of dice with his buddies, you realized you needed some time to decompress from all the socializing.

Your dad insisted on cleaning up for you the way you always did for him, so you made your way upstairs intending to lie down for a few minutes.

With your back facing the door as you flipped through a magazine Joel was able to sneak into your room; it was the lock clicking that scared you.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Joel!” You gasped while throwing your magazine at him.

He chuckled hoarsely and leaned against the wall with the doorknob sticking into his back.

“Could at least make a little more noise when you’re following me!”

“The more noise we make the quicker we get caught,” he spoke under his breath.

Your eyes were wide as you took the sight of him in; his skin was beautifully tanned from the Texas sun, his biceps straining against his almost too-small t-shirt, and his jeans hung a little lower than usual.

His glossy eyes lingered on yours as he watched you stand up and check him out. He saw the fear on your face morph into lust, increasing as you walked towards him.

“What’chu nervous for?” He teased after watching your hand fidget with your belly button ring.

You barely heard him, thoughts immersing into thoughts of all the things you wanted him to do to you. “Hmm?”

Even as you got closer to him your eyes couldn’t leave the imprints of his muscles effortlessly flexing against his shirt.

“You play with your piercing every time you get nervous,” he told you after you pressed your body against his.

Ignoring his statement, you stared at the shadow of his collarbone and the light layer of hair coating his chest.

“Look at me,” he cooed, yet you only did it for a second, fueling that same attitude he had at the bar.

He tapped underneath your chin more roughly than you liked, almost like a smack.

But when you looked at his face again you saw that darkness you knew you wanted it like that night again, despite your attempts at hiding it.

Joel could always see past your bullshit.

“You like when I’m mean to you, girl?” He asked. You opened your mouth, ready to omit, but he held a warning finger up. “Don’t. Do not lie to me.”

You swallowed the dryness in your mouth and batted your eyes at him before naively nodding your head. “Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t peg you for the mean type.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “No? But you like it?”

“I fucking love it,” you whispered against his wet lips.

You didn’t need to decompress. You needed to unwind.

“I bet you did, rubbing that needy little pussy all over my leg when I was bruising you up all sweet and blue,” he bullied.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your breath left your body, remembering how good it felt for him to punish you. When you looked at him again you saw an egotistical smirk had plastered itself onto his face.

“Problem s’that you didn’t disobey me tonight, so how could I possibly punish you when you were being such a sweetheart? Sayin’ thank you after opening every one of your gifts and offerin’ to help out.“ His tone was sadistic, taunting…

“Well, it is my birthday…” You said grinning. A heat burned through the pit of your stomach and spilled into your panties. “…and no one’s given me my birthday spankings yet.”

He remained quiet opting to run his hands up your arms until they cradled your face, thumbs stroking your lips and cheeks.

“You gonna count ‘em for me?” He whispered without breaking eye contact.

You smirked and kissed him tenderly. “Yes, sir.”

He pointed at your bed where you went to bend over the edge for him.

His boots softly knocked against the hardwood floor as he paced behind you, pondering in his head how he wanted to proceed.

Despite the curiosity that made you want to turn around and ask him questions, you stayed still and quiet until he gave you your first instruction.

“Take your shorts off.”

You reached for the button and zipper before pushing the denim down until it met your knees on the floor. Your hips wiggling more than necessary.

“No panties?” He said amusedly. You heard his body move behind you so that he became eye level with your ass. “You must’a really wanted that present from me tonight, huh?”

You nodded your head and reached under your stomach, using both hands to spread yourself for him. “I’ve been touching myself all weekend thinking about it.”

Joel stifled a moan at the sight of the creamy precum that revealed itself between your swollen lips.

You flinched and yelped at the sudden feeling of his middle finger spreading your cum around your tight hole making him smile.

“Rub your clit f’me, baby,” he rasped.

Licking your lips you rested your head down on the bed before listening to him; your ring and middle fingers rubbed perfect loops on your bud while your pinkie finger kept your cunt spread for his eyes.

He glanced at your ass which was still marked from his abuse nights prior.

“My God, girl… These my bruises?” He asked wanting to hear your submission.

“No one else I’d let do this to me,” you breathed out.

His calloused hands gripped and massaged your butt for a few quiet moments until a firm smack landed on your left cheek.

His touch left your body as he anticipated a verbal response from you but it took too long for you to compose yourself.

You were just so fucking eager for his fingers to dance around your cunt that you made the mistake of forgetting the arrangement that occurred only two minutes prior.

“I don’t hear you countin’, girl,” he warned.

“Shit,” you whispered, “sorry—“

He interrupted you with another smack, only this one landed on your spread lips.

“Ah!” You yelped, quickly burying your face into your sheets. It stung ruthlessly. “One… And two…”

You couldn’t see it, but you felt the mean smirk on his face burning into the back of your skull. “Take too long t’answer me again… You get the rest on that pretty little pussy a’yours. Understand?”

Your knees braced into the floor as you nodded. “Yes, I understand, Joel.”

“Mm,” he hummed grumpily. “Good.”

Smack.

“Three,” you hissed.

Smack.

“Four…”

Smack!

The pain was starting to get to you in the best way possible.

You knew that for the next week anytime you would sit down on your bruised cheeks you’d remember how Joel took care of you in the way you wanted him to.

One spanking in exchange for one orgasm — that’s how you saw it anyway. He wasn’t into unnecessary punishment, but he went into this knowing he’d find a way to make it worth your while however you saw fit.

Joel only dominated you because you dominated him in every other aspect. When it came to sex he lived to serve you. So if 23 spankings is what you wanted, well then… What kind of man would he be to deny you of that?

By the end of the torture, you didn’t even want to think about sitting down for the next two weeks.

Joel saw your reflection in the mirror hanging from your closet, watching those red and puffy lips curl into a beautiful smile.

“Dunno how much longer we got, girl,” Joel grunted as he stood up. “Best make it quick.”

Your eyes softly close and you bite your lip, giggling and moaning at how his southern drawl sounded especially sexy tonight. He noticed how lazily you were acting and laughed.

“You already fucked stupid?” He said with a small smile.

You turned onto your back, hissing at the pressure on your ass but giggling again at his annoyed tone and pursed lips. “Hmm… Maybe.”

Joel opened his mouth to say something but you raised your feet to rub against the growing bulge in his worn jeans. He watched your bottom lip get stuck between your rows of teeth, shining a drunken smile at him.

“You wanna play around, girl?” He flirted, a crooked show of his grin sending chills throughout your body.

“Wanna feel you, deep…” You let out a strained moan, cunt gripping so tight around nothing your precum slid out.

His fingers slid to the bulky strap of his belt and pulled it from his waist so fast it ended with a snap.

“So pretty like this…” He whispered as he sprung his cock free from its restraints.

Your face warmed with blush and your nipples stiffened at the sight of his dick: so hard it only slightly curved to the right, with a red hot angry tip beaming with a thick droplet of precum.

He leveled with your body and slid into you slowly, not wanting to risk making you moan louder than the walls could handle.

“Need you to be quiet for me, baby,” he whispered, “can ya do that f’me?”

Your eyes were shut, lips still between your teeth as you hummed and mewled. You nodded, looping his curls around the webs of your fingers and legs around his soft waist.

A breathy grunt escaped his mouth. His breath hit just below your ear making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

As his hips softly crashed into yours you felt yourself tensing at the sound of people outside and downstairs. You’d managed to forget your father’s friends were still here, and any one of them could walk upstairs to use the restroom only to hear the soft squeak of your bed frame—your father could.

Joel was just so easy to get lost in. His scent, his pretty smile, his touch… The way his tongue lapped at your neck like a cat would milk. How his hands cradled your waist and thighs. When he’d move his head up just for a moment to look into your heavy eyes.

God, you were a fucking mess.

His cock slid effortlessly against your needy walls, pressing deeply into that perfect spot at an angle you’d never felt before. And fucking hell, you wanted to say his name shamelessly. Scream it and plaster it onto the fucking walls if you could.

You did everything in your power to keep quiet, struggling from how your bruised ass stung even more every time his body crashed into you.

Joel bit the meat on your shoulder to shut himself up. His body yearning to fill you up with his precious seed was almost distracting. Almost.

“Doin’ so good f’me, girl,” he whispered into your chest, the pace increasing. “Might need t’cum.”

“Joel,” you whined, not needing anything more. Your fingers tightened in his hair and your head was thrown back into the mess of your blankets.

The knot in your tummy twisted, curling tightly around itself. You let out too loud of a breath that turned into a moan, but nothing too incriminating.

“Do not make me have to pull out and stop, now,” he rasped before taking two fingers and shoving them into your desperately open mouth.

You choked at the surprise but settled down and bit at his knuckles.

His face pressed into one of your tits as another desperate attempt to keep quiet, but all he had to do was feel you cumming to finish himself. Joel’s cock was sensitive and overwhelmed, and despite his best efforts to keep going for the sake of satisfying you he just couldn’t fucking take it.

You pouted and tried to pull him back in after he slipped from inside you to no avail.

“M’sorry, princess,” he huffed, annoyed with himself. “Can’t handle you sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes but saw the disappointment on his face as he buckled his pants back up.

“Just sneak over tonight,” you flirted, “suck me dry.”

He smirked at your coy smile and slid your bottoms back onto your hips. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised.

“Don’t leave me hangin’, cowboy.”

It had been about a week since your birthday, and Joel did indeed sneak over to give you your well-deserved orgasm, give or take three more.

And his real birthday present was a small Eiffel Tower; he had remembered how you’d always wanted to visit Paris. While he wasn’t the most superstitious or spiritual man he said he’d hope it would bring you good luck with traveling for fashion.

Your dad on the other hand had been quite distant since that night and you wondered if he saw or maybe even heard something that gave your little secret away. Your dirty lies. Had they finally caught up to you?

Or were you just overthinking things? Maybe he’s just been moody or tired or in hermit mode. It could have been lots of things, right?

Needless to say, it was a shock when he called you downstairs as soon as you were done with your shower.

“Hey Dad, what’s up?” You asked as you entered the kitchen.

“You tell me,” he grumbled, eyeing you as you sat down.

“Ummm, the apocalypse is happening and flesh-eating monsters are taking over,” you answered sarcastically. When his facial expression didn’t even change in the slightest you stopped joking. “Uh, I…don’t know…”

“Whose shirt is this?”

A dull brown and red flannel was tossed onto the island and you just knew your face gave you away.

“Dad—“

“Don’t lie to me either,” he said between gritted teeth.

Your father already knew it was Joel’s, you knew that. But he always gave you the opportunity to take accountability for your actions. Not like it made him less mad, it just softened the blow.

“Where did you find it?” You asked, voice shaking.

“Yesterday,” he said after some hesitation, “you were at work for your last day. I was doin’ your laundry and there it was, as plain as day.”

You shut your eyes, a tear of embarrassment rolling down your cheek that you wiped away swiftly. “It’s Joel’s.”

“Why is it here?”

You looked at him with eyes that begged for him to not ask, but his face was hardened.

“Because Joel was here,” you reluctantly answered.

“When.”

“A… A few times.”

“Why?!”

The tension was suffocating; you figured you were already caught so you may as well admit to everything—well, not everything if you could help it.

“Because we’ve been seeing each other,” you said softly, leaning your forehead onto your hand. “Since I got back, we’ve been seeing each other. Sometimes I go there, sometimes he comes here.”

“Since you got back?”

You nodded and faced him again, fighting your tears. It wasn’t that you were sad or worried about what your dad may have done, you just wished you were more honest from the start.

“Yeah,” you answered. “I made the first move. I was trying to get over my boyfriend and… He was there… And it just sort of happened.“

“S’good thing you’re going back to New York soon.”

Your heart sank—had your dad forgotten when you said you were thinking of staying in Austin to stay close? Not just for Joel, but everybody. Your family, your friends, you wanted to be near when Sarah graduated. You missed life in Texas, too much to go back to New York State so soon.

“I—I told you I wanted to stay, that I was thinking of staying close,” you rambled, “did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t forget. You’re not allowed to see him anymore. You in New York makes sure that happens.”

“Wh—not allowed?!” You almost laughed. “I’m twenty-five, I make my own decisions.”

“He’s too old for you,” he said.

You scoffed, standing up. “I’m not some mentally incompetent eighteen-year-old, Dad. I’m a grown woman dating a grown man!”

“Not here! Not when you’re living in my house.”

“Well, then I will just fucking move out!”

You ignored his protests and calls for you, feeling like a grounded teenager all over again.

What you and Joel had was fickle, you knew that. You weren’t stupid. It wasn’t built on a foundation, it was hardly dating even though you wanted it to be more.

Your dad would come around someday. Hell, maybe he would have already had you been honest from the start.

“Hey, Sarah, is your dad home?” You stiffly asked.

She frowned at your puffy eyes and red nose, looking over her shoulder before saying, “Uh, n—no, but he’s just runnin’ a bit late from work. Why don’t you come in and wait for him? He should be back any minute.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t wanna impose. Just tell him to call me when he gets some free time, please?”

“You sure?”

You nodded, not necessarily trusting your voice anymore with how you were choking up from your tears.

Sarah’s shoulders dropped and she insisted you come in. “Come on, it’s starting to rain.”

After a moment of hesitation, you followed her inside after picking your bag up, wiping your nose, and clearing your throat.

Sarah was kind enough to bring you a glass of water, setting it on the coffee table and sitting down a couple of cushions away.

“Are you breaking up with my dad or something?” She asked after a minute or two.

“What?”

“He told me a couple days ago, but I already figured because I heard him talking to you on the phone a while ago. Something about missing you,” she explained.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I…” You sighed and looked at your hands. “I wish I was there to tell you.”

“No, that’s okay! I think it’s kinda cool. A little weird, but cool.” She assured. “But are you? Breaking up with him, I mean.”

“No, well at least I hope not,” you chuckled softly. “My father isn’t a very forgiving man.”

“He just wants to protect you. My dad said that’s just what fathers do. I’m sure he’ll come around someday.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

The lock clicks soon followed by the door creaking open; you and Sarah watch as Joel walks in with empty hands before he notices you sitting on his couch. A look of worry spread across his face.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Sarah chirped while standing up. “She just came by to see us.” Sarah walked into the kitchen to give you some privacy.

Joel sat next to you and gestured at the ground. “Why do you have a bag?”

“Oh, I’m just going to stay with a friend for a few days,” you said.

He nodded reluctantly, sensing your nervousness. “Your dad find out?”

A wave of sadness took over you again, but you managed your tears away better this time. You only offered a nod, nails picking at a loose thread on your jeans.

“Why don’t you stay the night? I was gonna make steak for dinner.”

“I—I don’t wanna… Impose.”

He chuckled. “What d’you mean impose? You’re my girlfriend.”

Letting out a surprised sound, you frowned and looked around the room incredulously while Joel just stared at you anxiously.

“Girlfriend?”

He shrugged, leaning his elbows onto his knees. “Well. You are my girlfriend, right?”

“You never asked,” you laughed.

His eyes were a mix of amusement and surprise. “My apologies, darlin’. Forgive me for not having been gentleman enough.” He takes your hand earning a laugh from you. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“You’re so sappy,” you teased before giving him a peck on the cheek. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

“I dunno what I’m gon’ do,” you said softly.

You and Joel had been in bed for a couple of hours just talking about everything, with Sarah sound asleep in her room; the three of you had watched one of Joel’s favorite movies and Sarah gave him a fixed watch.

You shifted up to rest on your elbow and looked down at him. “How much longer you think he’ll be mad?”

“I don’t know, princess,” he said after sucking his teeth. “He doesn’t tend to hold grudges but I know he’s more mad at me. F’it’s any consolation.”

You let out a weak chuckle and leaned down to kiss him. His hand cupped your jaw just firm enough to keep you still. Your lips tangled with his, fingers reaching up to clasp his curls; he climbed on top of you carefully, humming on the tip of your tongue.

He began to grind and hump eliciting moans from you both while his right hand got to work beneath your shirt, thumbing the nipple just enough to tickle you.

Your hand snaked between your bodies to find the opening of his boxers; you pulled his velvety cock out and pumped it gently whilst not bothering to touch yourself as your panties were already pooling.

Your heart ached with so much pain and at the same time so much love. You needed Joel. In every fucking way possible for as long as you’d be blessed to have him.

His lips broke free from yours to greet your neck, then your collarbone, before planting around your now exposed breast.

You exhaled at his warm tongue swirling saliva around your peaked bud, sending waves of shivers down your arching spine.

“Joel,” you whispered leaning into his gentle touch.

With a throbbing clit and a slippery cunt you felt weak beneath him. You were enamored with pleasure that it overtook your body. You couldn’t control your breathing or your trembling. Hand awkwardly shifting around his shaft.

He took your other nipple into his hot mouth, shirt bunched around your arching neck. With daunting hands he traced the hem of your panties, pulling at them carefully.

He sat on his knees to undress your legs, adjusting so his cock lined up with your entrance. He slid in slowly, knowing the lack of foreplay could ruin this.

But it didn’t.

Your walls burned with a stretch so delicious it set your skin on fire. It took everything in you to not moan as loudly as your body begged to.

A soft gasp only leaving your lips, your head lolling back, eyes clenching shut… Yeah. Joel knew how to fucking work you.

Your walls clung to him fearing even just a moment of loss. His eyes burned into your feverish skin, watching the rise and fall of your chest and stomach as you took in deep breaths.

“You feel so good,” he whispered into your collarbone, placing a sloppy kiss on it afterward. “I lo—“

A pause in his voice made your eyes fly open; his hips stuttered the same way his voice did signaling something was wrong.

Joel’s heart punched against yours, but he kept grinding into you like he hadn’t spoken at all. Oh, but all the worry was written in his eyes.

“Joel?” You softly asked between moans.

He took in the softness of your hands cradling his uneven stubble. He hummed and kissed the meat of your palm before biting it gently.

You fought the nerves in your voice. Everything inside your body screamed that this was wrong, yet as you looked into his eyes your heart swelled with admiration for the man that helped you find pieces of yourself again.

“I love you too,” you finally said.

He stopped moving his body against yours and he just stared at you. He was conflicted with whether or not you said that only because he almost did.

But when you said it again and tightened your legs around his waist to affirm it he gave you a gentle kiss, finding his tongue bumping into yours along the way. Pulling back, Joel finished his sentence.

“I love you.”

“You love me?” You teased.

But his face remained serious, eyes boring into yours.

After a few more silent seconds Joel laid his head into the curve of your neck and began riding into you again. Hips rolling into you, breath hitting your neck, and hands gripping the sheets.

Your body was hot as molten lava, melting into the mattress. Joel felt so safe, so beautifully safe. Safe enough to say, “I love you,” in his ear over and over again, his voice overlapping yours with the same words.

He took care of you that night. Letting you immerse yourself into enjoying every damn thing he gave you. His grunts staggered and turned into short hisses of pain as you bit into his shoulder to keep quiet. That’s what fueled him: the pain of your undying desire.

He reached deeper inside of you than he ever dared to before, reaching reaching reaching to find your soul and bear all commitment to it. To serve you, as his gravelly voice whispered, “I fucking live for you.”

“I love you, Joel,” you responded. “It’s you and me. Forever. Us against the world.” A tear made its way from your eye to his forehead.

He kissed the trail the tear left and repeated you. “Us against the world.”

It was just sex talk — usually is, but Joel always knew what words would just make you fucking cum. Those words dripped from his lips like a poisonous honey for you to lap up and savor.

He wanted you cumming all over his sheets cock to fucking mean something. To permeate his love anywhere it could stain.

Joel had started to cum just a second before you did, forcing him to let out a moan. You held his head to your chest while he cradled your back.

Your head buzzed the same way it would when you got high, only it felt better. Quieter. More immersive. Your back arched into his touch and the rolling of his hips kept you in that limbo. Not here nor there. You were right where you needed to be, whatever that fucking meant.

You managed to keep quiet a little better than him, giggling softly when he just plopped down onto you after you had both come down.

He stayed like that for a few minutes while you just stroked the curls by his ear, his other one listening to your heartbeat slow down.

“I’ll get ya cleaned up,” he cooed, and just as he finished dressing his phone began to ring. He just answered it as he walked to the bathroom, letting you rest some more. A few minutes later, he came back and wiped wherever you asked. “I gotta go help Tommy real quick with somethin’. W’ya stay here, keep an eye and ear out for Sarah?” He asked.

“Yeah, for sure. Be safe.”

You shared a kiss with him again before looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Shit. 11:32 PM.

“Joel?” He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “Happy Birthday,” you said with a smile.

“Thank you, princess.”

taglist: @paleidiot @sarap-77 @mmeereaa (cant tag) @ssweetart42

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou

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yumespooki · 3 months ago

Text

☆Why Gregor is so important than you think and the series' relationship with tone

Im obsessed with an old man and I have all reasons to be also I have to sleep but I really need to make a colleague of gregor photos as the header image-

◇Part 1 - How The Tonal Shifts happen to be

Episodes 1 to 3 was all silly fun, though we have the idea that the series is gonna have a progression to having a consistent plot and story since Episode 2 setting up the episode formula of events/segments:

Skid and Pump doing mischief around town, there's separate segments of major characters that they come across and the villain that sets up the plot - who are in concept supposed to be parodies of horror villain stereotypes.

And its all fitting in Pelo's style except its actually understandable and not have characters turn cartoonishly eldritch every 2 seconds.

Yknow we got SM 1 was an average pelo video then SM 2 is where we got the formula, everyone were just trope templates and the one that sets up the lore

SM3 is where things get normal but it's still silly, you can tell by the soundtrack, Moloch's theme is on dubstep it bangs BUT also introduces the Episode ending set up for its next villain.

Then SM4 happened. Oh Deadly Smiles my beloved, still my personal favorite

This where the good shit happens with different segments under 20+ minutes with finally having a grasp on how the episode formula works

Though this episode is kinda.. the chillest one among the episodes???

Everytime Skid and Pump goes around town with Spooky Swings playing, it's always fast paced and they immediatly go to the next in a few seconds but in Deadly Smiles, they take long stops before going to their next location. Most Characters also spend most of if not any of their screentime without Skid and Pump in it. [especially Kevin] it has its own unique tone and its cozy solely for it being winter themed.

Other than the more chill pacing, You got the rabid doll running place to place and getting thrown around to people to people to show what hes suppose to parody that when Dexter actually shows that he can be a threat is a really effective moment and really got me going "Oh shit OH SHIT"

But the scene that truly shaped Spooky Month the way it is now is the scene where he snaps at the kids, that moment is so important to the series because of the sudden change of tone to spooky/silly to scary. We couldn't see Dexter as a threat before this because the tone and plot prevents him to be one especially to poke out the trope of Doll killers but at this moment, the moment he expresses his situation and conditions, he went specific. and from there you don't see Dexter as a simple parody for the sake of being a parody anymore, Especially being a parody based on Chucky --who uses dolls on his advantage-- but For Dexter, below the surface is a man doomed from the circumstances that he desperately wanna get out of.

Episode 5 immediatly tells you its meant be atleast scary from the get-go since it was already established seconds into the episode, and only in the last minute with Lila it left us with an ominous note

Ok to be for real, I consider Episode 5 kinda standard compared to Ep 4 and 6 but is more better than the early 3 eps and I appreciate as the middle ground between Deadly Smiles and Hollow Sorrows. And also more cop screentime my luvs

And mainly the reason why I said this because of Bob. The villains of Spooky Month is always tied with the tone because they are the guys that bring the tension. Bob's kinda monotonic because his behaviour pattern in this episode is repetitive: He slowly approaches people, give them meat fact, dosent or fails to kill them, gets slapped with slapstick. Even at the climax where he's actually at his most effective by being actually terrifying, he still gets disrupted for comedic purposes.

He has a balance of being actually terrifying and being a parody by his slow movement trying to set up tension.

Incomparison to Dexter, yea he gets thrown around but they get to take him seriously at the right moment and being thrown around to different people showing this disadvantage will show you the wide range of what the characters will do with the doll, Bob just scares them throughout the episode.

And I can't be mad about it because Bob purposefully is doing that to distract the cops from the cult case especially thinking he can't die.

But Bob is still effective as a villain. He manages to get you on edge and also opens questions to more lore stuff. And this episode is also the most creepiest because of Bob's behaviour along with that Lila encountering him along with finding out he's in her photo book probably shaped Lila to her behaviour in episode 6.

Still a good ep. Alot of insight of other characters' lives is my main highlight of this ep

Then Episode 6 has Father Gregor finally established as a proper character now that's where the interesting THING starts;

◇Chapter 2: Why is he weird in a weird show

When Father Gregor is on screen, do you feel.. put off especially when he's first introduced into the episode? Like when we were first introduced to doll Dexter with actual spinechilling ost and visuals we were already accustomed to this to be something expected through the Newgrounds endings with its ominous tone, expecting to transition it to the main story especially in with Tender Treats being almost that except more heightened.

But with Gregor, I don't have the exact words to explain the tonal dissonance he gives us. He has a very clear leimotif soundtrack throughout the episode everytime he's on screen even disrupting themes of other characters or locations [like the candy club like what the fuck gregor excuse yourself] that it even turns to a more epic variation of itself with Moloch's exorcism.

since this guy has seconds of screentime on his 1st debut,he's unpredictable especially when each episode has a formula of events with characters that we are familiar off. and we know that there is atleast something goofy going on with them - except for the cops but for them they act silently or accompany moments with the characters - But Gregor dosent accompany character moments he's the goddamn spotlight, the emphasis on his scenes are on HIM like out of nowhere we got this guy coming along. Its kinda of a new breathe of air to have him around because we never got anyone else to come along with the Spookeez all around town and setting up their dynamic with the kids.

Oh and finally we simply state the whole point of Gregor and why he's so out of place -- his seriousness. He was never associated with the series' shenanigans, and questions his surroundings. He dosent enable himself with the series' comedy and at somepoint that it tries to bring him along for a second with the spooky dance. Hes not only unfamiliar in story wise but by environment wise. there was a little analysis essay I made a while back with how Gregor as a person in the setting is off to the townsfolk as they are mostly unfamiliar with Religious figures as the church was newly built, and everybody else never acknowledges his presence as a priest — Kevin and Frank calls him an old guy/man Radford dosent take him seriously because he mostly seen priests through movies, Jack has to ask if Gregor is one and Skid and Pump dosent know how the term father works in the church that even tells something. Only a few characters recognizes his role as a priest being Michelle, John, and Evermore.

Now let's move onto Gregor not following the goddamn script of being part of a parody

Ep 6 has the basics of a parody of exorcism movies: demon - check, priest - check, the victim check that's your main elements, but they never utilises these as.. parodies, because when one of the core elements acts like a normal guy and has a standard behaviour of a priest in those kinds of movies that wasnt exagerrated for the parody and has never been that early into the series to being so associated with the silliness of it making fun of horror. We had time with Moloch since Episode 1, 2 and 3 We witness his time from being just a gimmick character to being one of the mysteries and coming back as a serious threat.. or is he? Because on the 2nd half of the episode, Moloch's running away from Gregor, and attempts to fight back by trying to possess anyone on his way but in the end Moloch is defeated and the kids seeing this breaks their relationship with Gregor. At this point he himself is also an antagonist.

With Gregor breaking the law of parodies, and also breaking the traditional set up of villains for this series, he also differs alot of the standard priest character that he's supposed to be because usually those characters cannot exist outside of being the guy battling the supernatural forces—they are not the main focus. With Gregor, he's more than just an exorcist as for the most part we see him as a normal priest first, exorcist second. he's so determined in his job that any threat given to him makes him more motivated and half of the episode he spends his time teaching the kids to behave.

◇<Gregor and Tension>◇

We already established Gregor as a villain so what else is weird about this bald fuck

From Episode 4 we now get ourselves a consistent line of villains with Dexter being a strong start with the earlier mentioned being the guy responsible for the main story's tonal whiplash

Dexter, Moloch and Bob are villains with their main thing and concept as something terrifying — Dexter's an insane doll, Bob's a cannibal butcher and Moloch's a child eating demon who gives terrible side effects at something he possessed dead or alive.

Horror villains always relied in creating tension to make anyone scared. Dexter creates tension with his uncanny presence as a doll, along with his fast movements contrasting this with Bob, being slow and uses psychological intimidation than being fast, and watches his victims reacting to the situation their put into. Then for Moloch, he is tied with Gregor because how he creates tension is in complimentary with him.

The scary thing about Moloch comes from the ARGs mostly since that's where they build him up as a serious thing to handle in the series after Episode 3, but unfortunately for him as his debut as a serious threat has to be shared with just a dude

OK Moloch's scenes relies on a psychological effect because of his ability to possess people which he possess characters we seen before and are individuals. If you think about Dexter, we saw him killed off for a fucking joke then proceeds to be a threat for a whole episode by the result of his decreasing sanity of being stuck inside a doll. then you realize he's also someone's son. Both got killed by Moloch and used their images as his best attempt to manipulate Gregor which only angers him and makes him more determined to finish him off. Even psychological moves dosent work on him. Now at that point, Moloch lost the hold of the tension's weight. Rather than heightening a terrifying scene like a typical spiritual fight scene, Gregor steals it and heightens it by what made him unnatural since the start – he's constant seriousness that defies the the overall tone that it becomes a keypoint from the episode onwards, making Moloch run away.

Their last confrontation has Gregor on the upper hand with a successful exorcism and a banger of an ost that I still think about to this day, and it was never something to replicate horror. They were no terrific aftermath or a good ending, only the tears of children that comes after it, a dislikeness to the religious figure, and an awareness to how the series' main thing of silliness and chaos was all from an unsupervised kid and a bit carefree mother.

◇Chapter 3: the old man has a hold on the narrative

At the start of Episode 6, We were dismissed with a moment with Skid and Lila, about her situation arranging the house and Skid's Dad with her distracting Skid to go play with Pump. We know somethings off but this was already delivered from the ending of Episode 5.

Gregor states himself at the start as a guide to the children to reflect and be better, but how he delivers this wasn't clear to Skid and Pump and goes around apologising with no single thought other than this being important to their parents. The episode's main point was because of Father Gregor assisting the kids.

then the second that they got the parent thing shoved to their faces is with the cops, also one of the more grounded characters in the series but again they enable the goofiness of the series especially with Jack and his lowkey high kill count- Now that's when the themes of family are very stressed with the whole thing now about to ingrain in Skid and Pump's head.

Now to the scene where Skid and Pump cries for Moloch and now hates Gregor. It's all on him – he leaves without the need of approval but get his message and judgements clear. As he leaves the main cast and onto the church, he's finally at his most vulnerable. the tension spotlight is not on him anymore and has no control of the atmosphere as the Cult comes into the scene.

But what he does have control of was the effect he gave on the kids as his message of apologising and reflecting was the episode's ending note. Not only that, We got the tonal shift to scary, serious to bawling our tears out?? It was implied throughout the episode that the themes of family, especially broken ones are strong and the last scene of Skid apologising and hugging his mom was the perfect completion to build all of that. Not only the tension between Moloch, and Gregor is there the other important thing was the emotional tension.

This signals that Gregor's presence was such an impact that it still lingers, like the piano at the last scene that he's always accompanied with in the soundtrack. in the end it shaped the kids that gives a significant emotional weight into the narrative from now on.

And what do we do now if Skid and Pump finally reflected?? Will things change? Will they not go out and do havoc anymore? Will things lose the general comedic feel to something more serious? We don't know

But it's all really thanks to Father Gregor Raguel.

Conclusion:

Tldr: Gregor is so odd to the show because of how serious he is that it extends to him breaking in series and horror traditions to the fucking narrative of making the series have some emotional weight

#father gregor #father gregor raguel #spooky month father gregor #skid and pump #spooky month

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