#I’m my absolute worst critic as well

[mycological-mariner]

Gotta be on set tomorrow at 6am. God and caffeine help me for I am not a morning person

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

Chapter eleven

Summary: After a tense moment, you and Joel find the perfect moment to be alone, to clear the air—and, well, to explore other things too. It seems he enjoys teasing you. In other words—he cannot contain himself anymore. WC: 23.5k A/N: OKAY. WHAT. THIS IS LONG AF. I got sick and all i could do was THIS lol sorry!! I hope you like this part <3 LET ME KNOW WHAT U THINK. Love u all!!! <3 Don't forget to follow capuccinodollupdates for notis!

The drive to the hospital was brief and quiet, the kind of silence that didn’t feel intentional but rather borne out of mutual focus. Joel’s hand rested on your knee, grounding you, though you could feel the tension in his grip—the only outward sign of his worry.

He relayed what Irina’s mom had told him. The girls were playing in the treehouse, lost in their own conversation, when a bee buzzed through the open window. Irina screamed, startling Sarah, who stepped back too close to the edge.

She fell—eight feet to the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of her and left her unconscious for nearly a minute. Now she was awake, pale and shaken.

"She's okay," Joel said, his voice firm but tight. "They said it’s not as bad as it sounds."  

When you arrived at the hospital, Sarah was sitting up in a bed, a neck brace holding her small frame upright as a doctor shone a small light into her wide, watery eyes. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her lips trembling, her hands balled into nervous fists. She looked so much smaller than usual, her spirit diminished, and the sight of her like this made your chest tighten.  

The diagnosis was straightforward—a fractured humerus and a mild concussion. Nothing life-threatening, the doctor reassured Joel, though the fall had clearly terrified her. Maybe the worst part wasn’t the injury but the fear that lingered, thick and immobilizing.

Joel moved to her side without hesitation, scooping her up gently, pressing his lips against her temple, whispering reassurances you couldn’t quite make out. Sarah clung to him, her little fingers clutching his shirt, her face buried in his chest.

When he walked into the room, a wave of absolute relief washed over her—the kind only her dad could bring.

“You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you now.” His voice cracked, but only slightly.

Irina’s mother waited just outside the room, wringing her hands, her face pale and guilt-stricken. The moment Joel had arrived, she’d apologized, over and over, her words tumbling out in a rush. He’d waved her off, his focus entirely on Sarah, but after seeing that she wasn’t in critical condition, his anger had softened into something closer to gratitude. He’d told her, gently but firmly, “It’s not your fault. These things happen.”

Later, after the doctor finished his evaluations and explained the treatment plan, you felt the tension in Joel’s shoulders ease, if only slightly. Painkillers, rest, home monitoring—nothing more. The doctor assured Joel that kids Sarah’s age were resilient. She’d bounce back faster than either of you expected.

“I’m happy you came with my dad,” Sarah said softly, her voice almost lost in the sterile hum of the hospital room. Joel had stepped out to handle the paperwork, leaving the two of you alone. She was nestled against the pillows, her small frame looking even more delicate against the stiff white sheets.

You reached out, your fingers brushing through her hair in gentle strokes.

“Of course I came, baby,” you said with a smile that you hoped looked relaxed, though you were still shaken from the chaos of the past two hours.

“Did he talk to you?” 

You nodded. “He did.”

“Cool,” she murmured, her head tilting against your chest when you pulled her closer. You were careful to avoid jostling her injured arm, adjusting her so gently it felt like you were holding glass. After a moment, she said, “Please tell me that now things will go back to the way they were.” Her voice cracked slightly, and you could hear the weight of the day pressing down on her. You knew this kind of vulnerability didn’t come easily to her, even as a child. 

Your chest tightened, the ache of guilt mixing with something softer, more protective.

“You have my word,” you said, your voice low but certain. “I promise you, no more ugly arguments.”

Sarah shifted, lifting her head to look at you with wide, serious eyes.

“You have to swear it,” she said, her tone firmer now, as if making sure you understood the gravity of her request.

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Okay, well,” you began lightly, trying to ease her tension, “I’m not sure we’ll never argue again. That’s just being human, right? But I can promise you this: this horrible situation? The one we put you through? It’s over. No more of that. I swear.”

She squinted at you, her lips curving into the faintest smile.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she said, her words carrying a hint of playfulness despite the exhaustion in her face.

“Well, fair enough,” you replied, grinning back at her.

It wasn’t long before Joel returned, his footsteps soft but calculated as he crossed the threshold. He looked calmer now, his shoulders looser, his face no longer drawn tight with worry. As he stepped beside you, his hand found the small of your back. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch warm and deliberate against your skin. It wasn’t much—a small gesture, fleeting—but it sent a ripple of nervous energy through you.

You told yourself it was nothing. Joel had always been like this—touching your back, your arms, your hands. He was naturally affectionate with you, even before… before everything had changed. But this was different. The way his thumb brushed softly against your skin wasn’t just a casual gesture. It was conscious, intimate, a quiet declaration. And it filled your stomach with that familiar, fluttering sensation, like you were a teenager on the cusp of her first real crush.

Sarah, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. Her head rested heavily against your shoulder, her breathing evening out as she relaxed.

You couldn’t help but glance up at Joel. His eyes met yours, a quiet understanding passing between you.

Your cheeks burned, the flush creeping up your neck as you looked up at him with a shy smile you couldn’t quite suppress. It felt ridiculous—how bashful you’d become under his gaze, like a teenager unsteady in her own skin.

Joel tilted his head, his lips curling into a small, sideways smile. His eyes lingered on your face, clearly amused by your reaction. He thought it was adorable.

Then, his attention shifted. His gaze moved to Sarah, who was watching the exchange with an exaggerated grimace, her face scrunched in mock disapproval.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Joel asked, breaking the moment as he leaned down to gently touch the cast encasing her arm.

“I’m okay,” Sarah replied with a sigh, like she was already bored of the concern, pretending to be over it. “I just wanna go home.”

He nodded, the smile on his face tinged with relief, though his eyes still carried traces of the fear that had gripped him earlier.

The drive home was unhurried, the car bathed in the warm light of the late afternoon. Unlike the trip to the hospital, the tension was gone now, replaced by the sound of Sarah’s voice as she filled the car with a running commentary. From the backseat, she recounted everything about the day—the bee that had sent Irina into hysterics, the moment she’d felt herself fall, the brief confusion when she woke up.

“I didn’t see anything,” she said, shaking her head with dramatic exasperation. “Like, nothing. I thought when people lost consciousness, they saw something, you know? Like a light, or maybe they dreamed.”

Joel turned in his seat slightly, glancing back at her with an amused expression.

“What did you want to see?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah said, shrugging. “God, maybe?”

You and Joel both laughed, the kind of laughter that comes easily after a day so heavy it felt like a release. Before either of you could respond, Sarah pivoted to a new topic with the abruptness only a child could manage.

“So, what, are you guys dating now or something?”

For a beat, the car went quiet—not because the question was particularly shocking, but because neither of you had an answer ready. You hadn’t talked about it, hadn’t put a name to what this was, not yet. 

Joel cleared his throat, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.

“Hey, don’t be nosy,” he said, though his tone lacked any real reproach.

“I’m just asking,” she said, her voice rising defensively. “I mean, it’s obvious—”

“We haven’t discussed it yet,” you cut in, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Well, okay,” Sarah said, sitting back as if satisfied with your answer. “I get it.”

When you arrived home, Cassie didn’t waste a second. She practically flew out the door to greet Sarah, her face lighting up as soon as she saw her. You’d let her know you were at the hospital, keeping it brief, and mentioned you’d left a key under the flower pot—an old trick, a bit worn but reliable. And of course, it had worked.

Sarah's excitement was palpable, and she wasted no time making her promise to have a girls' sleepover. Cassie, grinning at the enthusiasm, agreed immediately, her eyes sparkling with the same energy.

“Tonight!” Sarah added, grinning from ear to ear.

Joel, who had been quietly watching the exchange from the door, intervened gently.

“Sweetheart, you need to rest tonight, okay?” His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of concern, his protective instincts still sharp from the scare earlier. “We can do the sleepover another day, when you’re feeling better.”

Sarah looked at him for a moment, her excitement deflating just slightly. After a beat, she nodded, understanding but not entirely satisfied. She still wanted the sleepover—tonight—but she accepted it.

It didn’t take long before she was curled up on the couch, almost swallowed by the cushions. The rhythmic sound of her breathing filled the quiet house, a sound that seemed too calm after the chaos of the day. Joel stayed close, his eyes flicking to her every few minutes, still watching with that careful, uneasy vigilance. You could see it in his posture—the way his shoulders remained tense, the way his gaze didn’t quite relax, even as Sarah slept peacefully.

Cassie stayed with you for a while, chatting quietly, though it didn’t take long before she stood, stretching and yawning.

“I’m so tired,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I’m gonna shower and then just collapse in bed.”

You nodded, feeling the familiar warmth of her presence slowly fading as she moved toward the door. But before she left, she winked at you, a playful spark in her eye. You watched her go, feeling a strange flutter of anticipation as the door clicked shut behind her.

Minutes later, your phone vibrated on the counter. You picked it up, unlocking the screen to find a message from Cassie:

“You have to tell me  E V E R Y T H I N G”

It was frantic, a burst of energy that made you smile despite yourself.

You quickly typed back, promising her you’d share everything as soon as you could. Her reply came in a rush, the excitement practically jumping off the screen:

“Oh yeah don’t worry, are u kidding? stay with him. Tomorrow tho... all the damn details"

You were halfway down the stairs when you saw him stir from the couch. His broad frame moved toward you with that purposeful stride, his hand gesturing toward the kitchen, a silent invitation to follow.  

“Are you hungry?” Joel’s voice was low, but it carried the kind of warmth you had come to associate with him, his eyes already scanning the fridge as he opened it, ducking his head to peek inside.  

You approached him slowly, moving toward the counter and leaning back against it, your hands resting lightly on your lower back. You turned slightly to look at him, the cool, soft light from the refrigerator casting a glow on his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his profile. The fatigue was evident in his posture—the way his shoulders remained tense, the way his gaze drifted without quite focusing, as though the day had worn him down more than he cared to admit.  

“Yeah, what do you wanna eat?” you asked, peeling yourself off the counter, sliding to stand beside him, your body instinctively wanting to close the distance between you.  

“I dunno,” he muttered, his eyes gliding over the sparse contents of the fridge. Then, with a small chuckle, he added, “But I could eat a horse right now.”  

You laughed softly. “Okay, I’ll order something. What are you craving?”  

He closed his eyes then, letting his head tilt back slightly as if he were savoring the very idea of the meal.

“Pizza. Full of melted cheese.”

You took care of the order with quick, efficient ease, dialing the number and rattling off the specifics in less than two minutes. Two large pizzas—one with extra cheese and pepperoni, the other with extra cheese, peppers, mushrooms, and olives.

When the call ended, you placed your phone on the counter with a soft click, leaning back once again, your hands casually resting on your hips. Joel was angled across from you, his side against the fridge, arms crossed. The position made his biceps look even larger, emphasizing his strength in a way that was almost too natural. He had taken off his shirt earlier, and now only a thin, faded t-shirt clung to his torso, the smooth expanse of his skin exposed and catching the soft light of the kitchen.  

He was watching you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, a playful smile tugging at his lips, as if there were something he knew that you didn’t.  

You couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat, a warmth creeping into your cheeks as you met his gaze.  

“What?” you asked softly, unable to hide the slight flush that had taken over your face.

He blinked slowly, his gaze flicking down the length of your body before rising back up, a playful, flirtatious glint in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile wider, feeling the shift in the air between you two.

“You and I have some things to discuss,” he said finally.

“That’s true,” you replied, your voice quieter, teasing. You tilted your head to mirror his posture, a slow, deliberate movement. Your eyes skimmed down his body, the briefest of pauses at his chest before they lifted again, traveling up to his lips, lingering for a moment too long before meeting his gaze once more.  

A soft pink flush spread over his neck and cheeks, the hint of a blush creeping up as he caught your gaze. The sight made something inside you flutter, and you had to fight to keep your chuckle at bay, knowing the effect you were having on him. It was silly—almost too easy—but you couldn't deny how much you were enjoying this.  

“What's up, Miller?” you asked, stepping away from the counter. Your voice was laced with amusement, but you made sure to keep the playful edge intact, your posture still flirtatious, just enough to draw him in.  

When you were only inches from him, you reached out, resting your hands lightly on his broad shoulders. The moment your skin touched him, you fought the instinct to pull back, to mask the undeniable warmth that his presence stirred inside you. You tried to maintain your composure, to not let him see how his steady gaze and quiet intensity were making your heart race.  

Joel remained still, his eyes locked on yours, silent for a moment longer than you expected. There was amusement in his eyes, but it was tempered by a subtle nervousness. His breath was slow, measured, as if he were trying to read you, to figure out what came next in this strange little dance you were both playing.

It felt almost absurd to him, this moment. He was a grown man, someone who had known you for years, yet here you were—standing so close, your hands resting on him, that look in your eyes. It should’ve been ordinary, shouldn’t it? But instead, it unraveled something in him, leaving him completely unsettled, as if every instinct in his body was suddenly awake and alive in a way he hadn’t expected.  

His arms moved, almost instinctively, and before you could adjust to the sudden shift, he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer. It was a subtle change in the balance, a quiet power shift that took a little of the control from your hands and placed it in his.  

His hands didn’t stop there, though. They trailed up your back, fingers brushing the soft fabric of your shirt, but the touch was different now. It wasn’t just playful or teasing—it was tender, gentle, full of something deeper than either of you had allowed to surface before. The playful, mischievous grin that had been on his face moments earlier melted into something softer.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured. “You are beautiful.” His hand moved behind your back, threading through your hair, and he tugged a lock gently, pulling it upward until his fingers rested at the nape of your neck. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”  

The words hit you like a wave, and you could feel your face warm, the rush of heat spreading across your skin. You looked away, your gaze dropping to his chest, as if the weight of his compliment was too much to bear.  

“Joel…” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper, nerves creeping into your tone.  

He noticed immediately, his smile deepening with that familiar amusement.

“What? Do I make you nervous?” His laughter came softly, a rumbling sound that made your heart skip, as if it resonated deep within you. It vibrated beneath your hand on his chest.

“You don’t have to say all that!” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You lifted your eyes to look at him, only to find that familiar teasing glint in his gaze. “You’re just trying to make me nervous on purpose.”  

“No, of course I’m not,” he replied, his voice laced with sincerity, though there was a glimmer of something mischievous behind his words. He pulled you even closer then, wrapping his arms fully around your waist, his face sinking into the crook of your neck as if he couldn’t quite get close enough. "I’ve always felt that way about you. It’s just... now I can finally say it."

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, and it made your pulse race.  

“And I like making you nervous too,” he murmured, his voice husky, sending a shiver down your spine. “God, you smell so good.”

You smiled to yourself, a soft, satisfied curve of your lips. Of course you smelled good. The coconut and vanilla blend Cassie had gifted you worked its magic, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful. You made a silent promise to thank her later for that little touch of indulgence.

“I know,” you whispered. The smile stayed on your lips, unshakable, as your hands moved instinctively to his neck, pulling him closer in a gentle embrace.

“Mhm,” Joel murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your skin before he kissed your cheek, a fleeting, tender gesture. He followed it with a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. “Be careful what you say to me, I might just eat you.”

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped you, followed by an exaggerated eye roll.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Joel’s laughter rumbled through him, his throat vibrating with it.

“A premonition."

You grinned, your heart racing with a mix of affection and excitement, as you stood on tiptoe to kiss him again. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair, and your lips met his with a quiet urgency. His hands found their way to the nape of your neck, fingers tightening in your hair as he gently pulled your head back, kissing you deeper, as if savoring every moment of the intimacy between you. 

You smiled against the kiss, and Joel pulled back, his eyes still warm, a playful gleam in them. 

“Does this mean you like me?” he jokingly asked.

It used to be that when you saw couples lost in their own little worlds, giggling and staring at each other like idiots, you felt embarrassed. How could they look so ridiculous, so wrapped up in each other? You’d watch them with something like amusement, maybe even mild distaste.

But here you were now, caught in the same web—completely, utterly lost in each other. And somehow, it didn’t seem silly at all. It felt so good.

You laughed softly, the sound escaping you more freely than you expected.

"Yeah, I like you."

Joel’s eyes softened, a warm, tender look settling there as he nodded, a quiet satisfaction in his expression.

“Great. You’ve never told me that before. I like it.”

“What, that I like you?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yes, Joel. I like you," you said, the words tumbling out before you even fully processed them. "I have the world’s biggest crush on you. You’re very hot, and I think you're amazing.” You paused then, realizing that no matter how lighthearted you sounded, you’d never quite said those words aloud. They felt heavier now, more real, and your chest fluttered slightly. "But don't let your ego get any bigger, okay?" You reached up to gently pinch his cheek, a teasing gesture, but the warmth in your touch was unmistakable.

Joel smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching into that familiar grin, but there was something a little softer about it now, something more assured.

“Like that’s even possible. I think you and Sarah do a pretty good job of keeping me humble.”

“Oh, Sarah keeps us all humble."

“True,” he agreed with a laugh. His hands found their way to your waist, gentle yet steady, and he squeezed the soft skin there. "Thank you for being with me today."

You met his gaze, your smile softening into something more serious, the air between you suddenly quieter, more sincere.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything. Even if things are bad between us, you can always count on me, Joel. I would never leave you alone during times like today.” 

“I know,” Joel nodded, his expression thoughtful as he looked away for a moment, as if sorting through his feelings. “But still, thank you. I got really scared today. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.” His voice lowered slightly, the vulnerability in it clear. “And she’s growing up so fast. It’s hard to accept sometimes.”

You could hear the tenderness in his words, the quiet ache of a father watching his daughter change before his eyes. You nodded sympathetically, your lips curving into a soft, understanding smile.

“Yeah, but she’s such a smart kid. So capable. Sometimes she surprises me with the things she says.”

Joel furrowed his brows slightly, the familiar glint of pride in his eyes as he spoke again.

"This morning, she gave me this whole talk about how I had to accept that she’s growing up, that I had to let go of her a little at a time—like she was preparing me for something, even though, honestly, it was all just a strategy to leave me alone for the entire day." He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "She had a plan."

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “A plan?” 

Joel let out a short, affectionate sigh and looked away for a moment, as though recalling the whole scene. 

“Yeah. She was planning on going to Irina’s to sleep over so she could get me to leave her alone all day and force me to talk to you. She heard everything Travis told me this morning, and was pretty clear about what she wanted. But I told her she had to come back for dinner.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You should’ve listened to her. She really knows how to manipulate me.”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t have to tell me anything. She’s been working the same magic on me too.”

Joel’s smile grew wider at that, his face lighting up. Then, he cocked his head to the side, his gaze teasing but warm.

“Oh, yeah?” 

You raised an eyebrow, unable to ignore the mischievous glint in Joel’s eyes. It was a look you had come to recognize, the one that meant he was up to something—something just a little bit dangerous, and entirely charming.

“Again with that sly look, Miller. What do you really want to ask me?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes in playful suspicion.

Joel’s smile widened briefly before his head turned instinctively toward the living room, drawn by the faint sound of a small sneeze. When he looked back at you, his expression had softened into something tender, almost boyish. Without thinking, you mirrored his smile and took a step back, creating a sliver of space between you.

Just as you turned toward the sink, intending to get a glass of water, his hand closed gently around your wrist. The warmth of his touch sparked something electric under your skin, a slow, thrilling hum that coursed through you. Before you could fully process it—before you could form a word—Joel leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft but searing, a kiss that left no room for breath, only for the way his lips fit against yours.

“I’ll check on her, okay?” he murmured when he pulled back, his voice low and rasping.

You nodded, your lips still curved into a smile you hadn’t realized you were wearing.

Half an hour later, the three of you were gathered around the kitchen table, devouring slices of pizza that were too hot but too good to wait for. When Joel had stepped into the living room earlier, Sarah had been awake, though she kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep in a way that was almost convincing. Joel hadn’t pressed her about it—he suspected she’d overheard at least some of the conversation in the kitchen—but he let it slide. Instead, he scooped her up in his arms, and it didn’t take much to coax her awake once the promise of food filled the room.

Now, she sat cross-legged in her chair, a slice of pizza balanced in one hand. Her gaze flicked to the red-and-white logo on the pizza box—an old-timey man with a twirled mustache and a tall hat, forever winking.

“I wish Cassie stayed for dinner,” Sarah said between bites, her words slightly muffled. “How long is she going to be here?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” you replied, trying to hide your smile as Joel, across from you, stuffed nearly half a slice into his mouth in one bite. “But I have a feeling she’s not leaving anytime soon.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “When can I have a sleepover with you?”

“When you’re feeling better,” you answered, leaning forward like you were letting her in on a secret. “Then we’ll have a proper recovery night—movies, treats, the works.”

“I feel better already,” she said, grinning wide enough that her eyes disappeared behind her cheeks.

Joel, now holding a glass of water, raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe next weekend,” he offered cautiously, glancing at you for confirmation. “If you’re up for it.”

“Out of the question,” you replied, feigning seriousness. “I’m in desperate need of a girls’ night.”

Joel chuckled softly. His eyes found yours, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch.

From her seat, Sarah cleared her throat dramatically.

“Uh-huh. Girls’ night,” she said, shooting Joel a pointed look. “No boys allowed.”

Joel snorted, leaning back in his chair.

“My own daughter,” he muttered, shaking his head with mock disbelief. “Unbelievable.”

You laughed, your hand brushing against the edge of the table as Sarah’s expression shifted suddenly, as if struck by inspiration.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, sitting up straighter. “Can we have dinner together tomorrow? Like, a barbecue? Dad hasn’t grilled in ages. We could celebrate.”

“Celebrate what, exactly?” Joel asked, his brow furrowing.

“Everything,” Sarah replied, as if it were obvious. “Cassie being in Austin, me not being dead, and you two finally stopping the whole... whatever that was.” 

You stifled a laugh, pressing your lips together. 

Joel shook his head, his mouth twitching at the corners.

“It’s not funny,” he said, looking pointedly at Sarah, though his voice had softened. “You scared the shit outta me, kid.”

Sarah just smiled, unfazed. “Good thing I’m still here, then. Right?”

Joel sighed, reaching over to ruffle her hair. 

*

After two more slices of pizza and a handful of pointed remarks—most of them carefully aimed at her father—Sarah stretched dramatically and announced she was heading to bed. Joel stood, ever dutiful, to walk her to her room. You stayed behind, gathering plates and wiping down the counters, feeling the quiet settle over the house like a warm, familiar blanket.

By the time you’d finished in the kitchen, the living room was dim and still. You sank into the couch, pulling your phone out of your pocket. Without thinking, your fingers opened the chat with Cassie, like muscle memory.

Everything’s okay. Sarah’s feeling sooo much better. Already asleep, she was really tired. She was happy, though—said tomorrow she wants us all to have dinner together, you included.

You paused, re-reading the message, realizing too late that you were smiling.

Cassie’s reply came almost instantly.

I’d love to!

By the way...

How are things going with Joel? 👀

You sighed, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress a small laugh. What were you even supposed to say? You started typing, then erased the words, then typed again.

All good🫶💕 we haven’t really had time alone yet tho

There’s still... stuff we need to talk about.

You hesitated over “stuff” but left it there. It felt vague enough to be safe.

Cassie’s response was exactly what you’d expected:

Boring.

Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.

Love you.

You snorted, shaking your head.

??

What do u mean?

Love you too!!!

"That girl is out cold," Joel said, walking into the room with a soft, almost amused smile that seemed to smooth the worry lines on his face. "I was talking to her, and when I turned around, she was completely knocked out. You think I should wake her?"

You set your phone down on the coffee table, tilting your head at him.

"Wake her up? Why?"

"You know, because of the contusion." He dropped onto the couch next to you, his knee brushing lightly against yours as he leaned forward, frowning in thought. "Do you think we should be worried?"

"I don’t think so. Her scans came back fine, remember? And the doctor said not to stress. She was in good spirits, don’t you think?"

"She was," Joel murmured, almost to himself, leaning back into the couch. His arm stretched along the backrest, just behind your head. "Before she fell asleep, she told me she had a lot of fun today."

You laughed, short and surprised, a sound that made Joel’s gaze flicker to your mouth and linger there for a moment too long.

"She said that?" you asked, shaking your head in disbelief.

He nodded, his lips curving into a small, private smile.

"I was really scared today," you admitted, your voice quieter now as you shifted closer. "How many emotions can a person go through in two minutes? Because it felt like I was on a roller coaster or something. You Millers are going to drive me completely insane."

"Sorry," Joel said, his smile softening into something almost sheepish. His hand found your thigh, his fingers squeezing gently, as if to anchor you both. The touch felt warm, familiar, unspoken reassurance. "I promise you, on behalf of both of us, we’ll calm down. But I can’t make too many promises for Sarah. She’s a wild card."

You let out a small laugh, your head tipping onto his shoulder. His scent—faint soap, a hint of cedar—wrapped around you.

"I love her, and I like how quick she is, how clever."

"Me too," Joel replied, his voice low and warm. 

The flickering light from the television bathed both your faces in soft, uneven glows. An old episode of The Sopranos played in the background. It was just noise, a placeholder for words that neither of you had spoken yet.

Your eyes burned from exhaustion, the weight of the day settling into your body, but the sensation vanished in an instant when Joel’s hand shifted on your thigh. He squeezed gently—not enough to hurt, but enough to wake you up in a different way. You couldn’t tell if it was intentional or just a subconscious movement. Then he did it again.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “How are you feeling? About today... about us?”

The tenderness in his tone made something in your chest soften. You moved your hand, placing it over his and threading your fingers through his. A small smile tugged at your lips, one you didn’t let him see. There was something endearing—almost vulnerable—about the way he spoke, as though the words themselves were fragile.

“I feel happy,” you said, your voice light and firm. “Calm, finally. I missed you so much.”

Joel turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching your face. When you met his gaze, the intensity in his expression made your breath catch.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, the words heavy with regret. “I promise I’ll be better.”

Before you even realized it, your hand had lifted to his face. Your fingers brushed against the rough scruff of his cheek, a tender gesture he loved. His eyes softened, but there was still a flicker of pain there, the kind that came from knowing an apology could never fully undo the hurt. It was as if he didn’t believe he deserved your forgiveness—or your touch—but he was desperate for both.

Your thumb brushed over his lips. Then, closing the distance, you pressed your mouth to his.

Joel responded instantly, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. His touch was firm but gentle, like he was afraid of breaking something precious. The kiss deepened, his lips warm against yours, but it wasn’t enough. It never seemed to be enough.

His other hand slid up to your waist, pulling you closer until the space between you was nearly nonexistent. Still, he wanted more—needed more. The taste of you, the feel of you, was intoxicating, and the quiet hunger in his movements made it clear that no amount of closeness would ever feel like enough.

Joel moved swiftly, shifting down the length of the couch and pulling you on top of him in one seamless motion. His arms wrapped tightly around you, grounding you in his hold as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The suddenness of it made you let out a small, breathy whimper, your hands instinctively finding his shoulders to steady yourself. You leaned back just enough to adjust, settling against him more comfortably.  

He rolled onto his side, bringing his face so close to yours that your breaths mingled in the small space between. His eyes, bright but laced with exhaustion, locked onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He smiled then, a soft, unguarded smile that revealed those dimples on either side of his mouth, the ones that never failed to make your heart flutter. He was so achingly beautiful it felt almost unfair.  

Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to one cheek, right over a dimple, then the other. The affection in the gestures made his eyes soften even further. Finally, your lips found his.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmured. Your fingers toyed with the curls at the side of his head while your other hand rested on his chest, tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his shirt. “And I forgive you. You don’t have to keep apologizing to me—I don’t want you to feel like you need to.”  

“I’m sorry, I—ah, shit, I really am,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "Fuck."

“Oh my God,” you laughed, biting your bottom lip to stifle the sound.

His lips quirked into a grin, and his voice softened.

“I love you too, sunshine.”  

Your heart swelled at the nickname, and you nodded gently.

“That’s the way I like it,” you teased, clicking your tongue playfully. “Now, I know you’re sorry. But instead of saying it all the time, just show me, okay? Before anything else, we’re best friends. That doesn’t mean you have to tell me everything all the time—you’re an adult, and you’re entitled to have things that are just yours and—”  

Joel shook his head, his expression growing serious as he interrupted,

“No. I don’t want to hide anything from you. You’ve always known everything about me. The Sienna thing...” He trailed off, his brow furrowing under your touch as his voice dipped lower. “That was a one-time situation. And I swear, it’ll never happen again with anything. It was... it was bad. I know that. But it’s over. It’s done.”  

You studied him for a moment, his face so open, so earnest, and you could feel the weight of his words. You let your thumb stroke over the crease in his brow, smoothing it away as a small, knowing smile crept onto your lips.  

“It won’t happen again? What’s that supposed to mean—are you giving up on dating altogether, Joel?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going celibate now?”

He stifled a laugh, the sound low and warm in his chest.

“It’s not that, no. I actually think I’m looking for something serious now.”

“Something serious?” you repeated, your tone dripping with mock skepticism.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” you asked, tilting your head as your fingers idly traced down the curve of his neck. “I always thought you were more of a lone wolf.”

“Not at all. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I know what I want.”

“Well, since you mention it,” you said, grinning slyly, “I think I might have someone for you. You’re going to love her.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

You leaned closer, feigning a conspiratorial tone.

“It’s kind of like fate, actually. I was on my phone earlier, and this Facebook post came up. I couldn’t believe it—it was Brianna! I thought; ¡No way! And now here you are, saying this. It’s fucking perfect.”

Joel groaned, shaking his head as he laughed.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I’m warning you, though,” you continued, straight-faced. “She’s married. You’ll have to sneak around. Climbing out windows, that sort of thing. Although, judging by the sounds your knees make, I wouldn’t recommend it. Doesn’t seem safe.”

“Oh, she was crazy about me,” Joel interjected, cutting through your playful monologue with a smug grin. He leaned back, his expression exaggeratedly self-satisfied. “Couldn’t get enough of me. Always on top of me.”

You propped yourself up on one elbow, your mouth falling open in mock disbelief.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, his grin widening, clearly enjoying your reaction. “My knees are just fine, by the way. Not a problem.”

You squinted at him, shaking your head.

“I never pictured you as the type to get involved in an affair, Miller.”

“Neither did I,” he said with a casual shrug. “But this is Brianna we’re talking about, I mean.”

You shook your head, narrowing your eyes at him, and said with mock seriousness, “Okay. That’s it. I’m done.” You started to shift away, pretending to leave, but he was faster.

Joel wasn’t having it. With a laugh, he grabbed you around the waist, pulling you back against him in one smooth motion, laying you flat on your back, over his chest. His mouth found the spot between your neck and shoulder, leaving playful kisses that sent shivers up your spine and made you squirm.

“Come on,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and full of amusement. “We’re too old for this shit.”

You laughed, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued to tease you.

“Speak for yourself. My knees don’t pop.”  

Joel let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Shut up.” 

For a while, neither of you said anything more. The air between you thickened, the silence soft and heavy. Joel stayed close, his lips brushing over the back of your neck, the curve of your jaw, trailing to your shoulder with a deliberate slowness. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his hand at your waist. And, though you tried not to focus on it, the unmistakable pressure of him, half-hard, pressing against you.  

“I'm serious,” he said after a moment, his voice breaking the quiet but holding onto its gentleness. “I want to be with you. Only with you.”  

His words hung in the air, sinking into you like a weight you hadn’t realized you were craving. Your smile came unbidden, immediate and impossible to suppress.  

Joel didn’t stop. His mouth pressed lightly to your shoulder as he continued, his voice low, like he was confessing something secret.

“I don’t want to waste any more time. I’ve already been without you, and I don’t ever want to feel that again. And I know what it’s like to just be your friend, and yeah, I fuckin' love that too—but it’s not enough. I want everything.”  

Your heart swelled in your chest, so full it almost hurt.

“Me too.” 

Joel stilled for a moment, his breath hitching.

“Yeah?” 

You reached down and placed your hands over his where they rested on your waist. Your fingers laced together, holding on tightly, grounding him in your touch.

“Yes,” you whispered.  

The smile that broke across Joel’s face was something you didn’t want to forget. You wanted to hold onto it, to remember the exact way his features softened, the exact way his dimples deepened.  

Without thinking, you shifted, turning to face him in one fluid motion. His smile lingered, and you leaned closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull of him.

“What are we, Joel?” you teased, your voice light, your grin playful as your hand slipped under his shirt. Your palm brushed against the firm plane of his stomach, and you felt the way his muscles tensed at the contact. You would never get tired of this: the feeling of his skin under your touch, the way his body responded to you so effortlessly.  

You fucking loved it.

*

Saturday. That morning, it was official.

You woke up on the couch, wrapped in your boyfriend's arms, his warmth anchoring you to the quiet serenity of the moment. At some point in the night, after he’d pulled you close and draped the blanket over both of you, sleep had claimed you effortlessly. The faint memory of his steady breathing and the way his hand had rested protectively on your hip lingered as you stirred awake.

Sarah had slept in, leaving the two of you to share a rare moment of solitude. The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light, the air carrying the faint hum of the world outside through the open window. There was something about mornings like this—unhurried, gentle—that reminded you of the way things used to be, before everything got complicated. That harmony, that unspoken ease, had found its way back to you.

Joel sat beside you, his coffee cup in one hand, the other resting casually on your leg. His fingers pressed into your skin with a gentle familiarity, an unconscious gesture that felt like it belonged exactly where it was. His hair was damp from the shower he’d just taken, curling slightly at the edges, and he wore a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants.

And it was too much.

Something wild stirred inside you, something uncontainable that you weren’t sure you could keep from surfacing much longer.

The first moment you saw him come down the stairs, you’d nearly choked on your breath. The way the T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and chest, the way the soft fabric of his sweatpants hung low on his hips, hinting at every solid line of his body—it was maddening.

You felt like a feral animal, like every nerve in your body was tuned to him.

It didn’t matter what Joel was saying—something about the weather, or the coffee, or maybe asking if you wanted more toast. His words barely registered because your attention was completely hijacked by him.

The way his lips moved when he spoke. The subtle flex of his biceps every time he reached up to open a cabinet. The way his fingers curled around the handle of his mug, big and thick, and how your mind betrayed you, fixating on how those fingers would feel on you.

Your pulse quickened, your breath catching in your throat as he turned to look at you mid-sentence, a faint smile playing on his lips. You were convinced he could see the heat rising in your cheeks, feel the way your gaze lingered too long.

And still, you didn’t care.

“Tommy’s coming today,” Joel said, his voice pulling you out of the increasingly vivid direction your thoughts had taken. You blinked, focusing on his face as he glanced at you with an amused smile that suggested he had some idea where your mind had been. “I texted him a while ago, after I got out of the shower.”

You nodded, barely processing his words because now you were thinking about him in the shower. Water sliding over his broad shoulders, the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he reached for the soap, how the steam would cling to his skin.

“He seemed excited when I told him Cassie was in Austin,” Joel continued, his casual tone slicing through the haze in your mind.

You rolled your eyes, trying to refocus.

“Sure,” you said, shaking your head to clear it. “Did you even know our relationship was a frequent topic of conversation for the two of them?”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his face settling into a thoughtful expression, though there was no mistaking the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said with a grin. “Apparently, they talked all the time about which one of us would make the first move. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be surprised if there was a bet involved at some point.”

Joel’s lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

“Well,” he said, his voice teasing, “I guess we’ll find out today. If I see any suspicious money changing hands, I’ll let you know right away.”

You let out a soft, involuntary laugh as you rose from your chair, coffee cup in hand, and the sound of it lingered in the air as you crossed the room toward the sink. The familiar weight of the mug, still faintly warm from the coffee, felt grounding against your palm. You turned the faucet on, the hum of water filling the quiet kitchen as your movements shifted into the mindless rhythm of washing the cup.

“Hey, leave that,” Joel’s voice interrupted from behind.

You turned your head just as he came up beside you, his own mug in hand. It was only half-full, a dark swirl of coffee still clinging to the sides, but he set it down on the counter without much thought. His eyes, however, stayed on you.

“Come here,” he murmured, his hands already reaching for your hips.

The gesture was fluid, practiced even though this—all of this—was still so new. He guided you around, one swift, calculated motion that left you pressed between the solid counter behind you and the even more solid presence of him in front of you.

His hands didn’t leave you, palms settling firmly against your sides as if to anchor you, or maybe to ground himself. He leaned in, close enough that you felt his breath skim your skin. You caught your own breath, felt it catch somewhere in your throat, an almost embarrassing giveaway of how much his nearness affected you.

Your cheeks warmed—no, burned, really—and you knew he could see it, the flush creeping over your neck and jaw like a slow tide. At the same time, your eyelids dipped, your gaze meeting his with a softness that you couldn’t hide, no matter how much you might have wanted to. Honeyed, you thought vaguely, the way your eyes must look now, like you’d been caught in some dreamy, sunlit haze.

This was the part you hadn’t yet gotten used to: the closeness, the unapologetic intimacy. And the desire. Unfiltered, unrestrained, and so startlingly mutual. You’d spent so long wanting him from a distance that now, having the freedom to act on it, felt almost dizzying.

If you wanted to kiss him, you could. If you wanted to trace your fingers over the line of his jaw, you could. There was nothing in the way now, no reason not to. The knowledge settled deep in your chest, warm and thrilling, and it made you smile despite yourself.

Joel’s gaze flickered, like he caught the thought behind the curve of your lips. What would he say if he knew the places your mind had wandered since the moment you saw him that morning? If he knew that this—his closeness, his hands on you—was exactly where your thoughts had been circling all day?

Would it undo him the way it was undoing you?

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hand drifted to rest lightly on his abdomen, the firm warmth of him radiating beneath your palm. Slowly, your fingers began to move downward, the motion unhurried. “I really like these sweatpants,” you added, the corners of your lips curving into a small, playful smile.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his features, though his pupils were already wide, his dark eyes fixed intently on yours.

“Mmm?” he hummed, the sound low and almost distracted. His attention shifted as your fingers dipped just beneath the waistband of his pants, teasing the elastic of his underwear.

“Yes,” you repeated, your voice softer now, as though the moment demanded a certain quietness. Leaning in, you brushed your lips against his—once, quickly, the briefest of kisses that left him chasing after your mouth when you pulled away. His lips parted, his breath warm against yours, as if drawn to you by some invisible force he couldn’t resist.

“And I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, actually,” you added.

“What things?” he asked, his voice rougher now, as though the words had caught in his throat. He bent his head, his mouth finding the soft curve of your neck. The kiss he placed there was gentle but deliberate, lips brushing the delicate skin just over your pulse. You felt the rush of your blood beneath his mouth, the heat spreading outward, your legs suddenly unsteady beneath you.

You closed your eyes and instinctively gripped his shoulders, your fingers curling against the firm breadth of them. He was solid, grounding you as much as he was unraveling you. Joel’s body pressed harder against yours, the cool edge of the counter biting into your back in sharp contrast to the heat of him in front of you. 

Warm, firm and hard.

“What things, baby?” he asked again, his voice dropping lower, his breath warm against the line of your jaw as he kissed his way upward.

Your hand slid up to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft, unruly curls there. You tugged lightly, and the sensation drew a quiet sound from him, a low, satisfied hum that sent a thrill through you.

A soft, unbidden moan escaped your lips as one of his hands moved down, his palm gliding over your thigh before curving firmly around you. His fingers squeezed, hard, his grip grounding yet electric all at once.

You couldn’t help the amused smile that spread across your face. Tilting your head back slightly, you let the moment linger, savoring the way his hands fit against you, the heat and weight of him pinning you there.

“You’re impatient,” you murmured, your voice laced with a quiet tease as you leaned closer, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I’m impatient?” Joel echoed, his tone almost incredulous, though the rough edge in his voice betrayed him.

“Yes.” You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering with mischief, a playful challenge. For half a second, the two of you hung in that charged space, your words hanging between you like a dare.

And then his mouth was on yours. This time, there was no hesitation, no half-measure. The kiss was demanding, almost desperate, as though he’d been holding himself back until now. One of his hands stayed where it was, firmly gripping you, while the other slid upward, his fingers finding the back of your neck.

He tugged gently at your hair, the movement tilting your head back, giving him better access to you. You let him, the sensation sending a fresh rush of heat through you, the tension unraveling in slow waves as he kissed you.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped you, muffled against his lips, the sound reverberating through him as though it had been made for him alone. His tongue brushed against yours, savoring your mouth, a careful yet desperate dance, and the juxtaposition of tenderness and urgency sent a shiver down your spine.

Something inside you shifted, a spark igniting into a flame. Your breath caught sharply, your chest rising and falling as if trying to keep up with the intensity. Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair, the strands thick and soft beneath your fingertips. You held him there, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

Joel broke the kiss, his breath coming in uneven bursts as his lips found the side of your neck, pressing there for just a heartbeat before reclaiming your mouth. The brief reprieve only heightened your awareness of him, the way his presence seemed to surround you completely.

His hand drifted down, fingers trailing along your side before settling firmly on your thigh. With a quiet motion, he lifted it, shifting your weight so that your leg hooked over his hip. The movement pressed your bodies together more intimately, and the sensation was so overwhelming, almost too much; his cock pressing hard against your core through the fabric.

Your hands roamed restlessly, sliding over his head, down the strong column of his neck, and across his broad shoulders. Every touch was filled with a kind of desperate, unspoken need, your fingers tracing him as though you were trying to commit every detail to memory.

Joel’s hand left your thigh, his palm gliding upward to rest against your throat. He didn’t grip, didn’t press—just let his thumb stroke gently over the soft skin there, his touch both grounding and electrifying.

“Um,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and breathless, tinged with the smallest hint of humor. His mouth lingered for a moment longer, kissing you softly, reluctantly, as if he were trying to savor the last taste of you. Then, inch by inch, he began to pull back, his forehead resting against yours briefly before he looked at you.

“We’d better get started on our day, don’t ya think?” he asked, his tone casual in a way that made you almost laugh if you weren’t so undone. “We’ve got a lot of things to do.”

Before you could answer—before you could even process the sudden shift—he stepped back, the warmth of his body disappearing so abruptly it left you cold. The space he left felt vast, too vast.

For a moment, you just stood there, your breath still catching in your chest, your body still humming with the ghost of his touch. The abruptness of it all felt almost unfair, like you’d been woken from a dream before the best part. And yet, you couldn’t help but watch him, trying to make sense of the way he could pull you apart and put you back together all at once.

Joel moved to the table with a casual ease, gathering the empty crystal glasses in his hands. His movements were natural, almost unremarkable, but there was something in the simplicity of the act that made your breath hitch. You stayed where you were, your hands braced against the counter, the smooth surface cool beneath your palms. You felt anchored there, as though moving might break the tension crackling in the air.

Your gaze followed him. Confusion fluttered in your chest—at him, at yourself, at the pull between you that seemed impossible to ignore. Your breathing was uneven, and your eyes betrayed you, shimmering with the kind of spark you couldn’t suppress even if you wanted to.

When Joel returned, he set the glasses down beside you, the faint clink of crystal meeting counter slicing through the charged silence. He didn’t touch you, not even the briefest brush of fingers, but his presence was almost unbearable, heavy. And then there was his expression—the look in his eyes, the slight quirk of his mouth.

Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. That was clear. And yes, he was hard. So fucking hard it was almost obscene. He’d done it on purpose.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice firm despite the storm inside you. You straightened, peeling yourself away from the counter’s edge, and turned toward the table to retrieve your phone. “That’s right. I need to see Cass.”

When you turned back, Joel was leaning against the archway that framed the kitchen. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was anything but. He looked at you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, his eyes sweeping over you slowly. The grin that tugged at his lips was mischievous, infuriatingly so, as though he knew exactly how he was affecting you.

“Say hi to Sarah for me, okay?” you said, trying to sound casual as you stepped toward him. “I’ll be back later.”

When you reached him, you leaned in to press a quick, fleeting kiss to his lips—simple, restrained. But as Joel bent slightly to meet you, your hand moved without thinking. Your fingers found him, cupping him firmly through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, your fingers squeezing him with just the right strenght.

The groan that escaped him was immediate, low and guttural, and it sent a thrill through you. His lips parted, a quiet, breathless chuckle slipping out.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice rough, the words caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

You smiled, a slow, knowing curve of your lips as you released him. Stepping back, you moved toward the door.

“So impatient,” you said over your shoulder.

*

After you had spilled everything to Cassie—every detail, every moment—you slipped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over you like a protective veil. The rhythmic pounding of the water filled the small space, drowning out the noise in your head, but it didn’t stop your thoughts from wandering. Inevitably, they drifted back to Joel. They always did.

You moved your hands over your body absentmindedly, lathering the soap and rinsing it away, but it was him you were thinking about, him you were feeling. As you ran your fingers along your skin, you imagined his hands in their place—strong, deliberate, exploring every curve, every soft part of you. The thought was maddening, the memory of his touch etched so deeply into you that even the water couldn’t wash it away.

Each stroke of the loofah became a stand-in for him, for the way his fingers would trace your skin, lingering in ways that made you shiver. Your body felt like a live wire, humming with an energy you couldn’t contain. Desire coiled tightly inside you, building with every passing moment, every thought of him.

You tilted your head back into the stream, closing your eyes as the water ran down your face and neck. This isn’t sustainable, you thought, biting your lip against the flood of sensations threatening to overtake you. 

But you didn’t want to make it easy for him, either. No, he’d been cruel to you that morning, hadn’t he? Leaving you like that, strung out and wanting, while he stood there looking so smug, so maddeningly composed. The memory made your stomach tighten, heat blooming in your chest.

Of course, it wasn’t as though he’d walked away unscathed. You’d seen the way he looked at you, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands had gripped the wall like he was holding himself back. He wasn’t immune to this. You’d made sure of that.

But what choice did you have? The practical part of your brain—the part that always seemed louder in the light of day—reminded you of Sarah, sleeping just upstairs. She was the reason you couldn’t let yourself give in, not fully. What if she woke up? What if she came downstairs? You’d hate for her to see something she couldn’t unsee, to feel even a flicker of discomfort because of you.

The thought cooled you, just slightly, enough to keep you grounded. But it didn’t erase the ache, the way your body seemed to rebel against your restraint. Joel had set this fire, and now you were left with the smoldering embers, trying to keep them from flaring up again.

“So, what, what are you going to do when you get married?” Cassie asked two hours later, her voice cutting through the comfortable quiet of the living room.

The question caught you mid-thought, and you let out a soft, amused laugh, glancing at her from where you sat cross-legged on the floor tying your shoelaces.

“What?”

“What if, don’t give me that nonsense,” she said, waving a hand dismissively as she shifted on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes were alight with mischief. “I’m already planning it all out in my head.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“Oh, you are, are you?”

“Absolutely. I’m very detail-oriented, you know.” She leaned back into the cushions, folding her arms across her chest like she’d just made an airtight argument. “I mean, someone has to start thinking about these things. You’re not exactly in a hurry.”

“You just want to be someone’s maid of honor. I’ve seen how you watch those wedding shows,” you teased, pulling the knot tight on one sneaker before moving to the other.

“That’s not true,” she said, feigning offense, though the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “I’m just honest. And a visionary. I always knew you and Joel would end up together—it was only a matter of time.”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there was warmth in your voice.

Cassie shrugged with an air of nonchalance, though you could see how much she was enjoying this.

“It took longer than I thought it would, I’ll admit that. But all the drama? Totally worth it. I mean, if you’re going to take your sweet time, at least you made it entertaining.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at her.

“Oh yeah? So now what, you’re going to start placing bets with Tommy again?”

“Maybe,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.

You reached out to swat her knee playfully, and she let out a dramatic yelp as if you’d actually hurt her. Rising to your feet, you grabbed your purse from the coffee table and slung it over your shoulder.

“Get off your ass, Cass. Let’s go,” you said, heading toward the door, your voice carrying a note of mock authority.

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, dragging herself off the couch with exaggerated effort, but the grin on her face remained as she followed you out.

When Sarah opened the door, her face lit up with the kind of radiant, unguarded smile that made you pause for a second. It was the sort of smile that could only come from her father, and it tugged at something tender inside you. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, your fingers brushing gently through her hair.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said warmly. Sarah beamed at you, her eyes sparkling with a knowing look that made you feel like you were sharing some secret.

Behind you, Cassie stepped forward, wrapping Sarah in a gentle hug.

“Hey, kiddo. How’s the arm?” she asked, careful to avoid touching the sling.

“It’s fine,” Sarah said, her tone casual but proud. “I barely even notice it anymore.”

“You’re such a trooper,” Cassie said, ruffling Sarah’s hair lightly before stepping back.

Inside, the house smelled of fresh coffee and something faintly smoky—Joel must have been at the grill. It felt warm, lived-in. Your gaze swept the room and immediately found Joel and Tommy in the kitchen, their heads bent together in hushed conversation. Whatever they were discussing seemed fun, but it came to an abrupt halt when they spotted you.

Both men turned, their faces breaking into wide grins. Tommy was the first to move, crossing the room in a few easy strides toward Cassie. He pulled her into a hug, his hand resting on the small of her back as he murmured something that made her laugh softly.

“Are you free now, Cass?” Tommy asked when they parted, his tone teasing. “A little birdie told me Rome is ancient history.”

Cassie smirked, stifling a laugh. “Who’s this little birdie? Because they sound a lot like you.”

“I never said that,” Joel chimed in from the kitchen, his voice low but amused as he leaned casually against the counter. 

You moved toward him, your hand instinctively reaching out to tap his stomach in a playful gesture.

“No one mentioned you,” you laughed.

His hand was on you instantly, sliding around your waist and pulling you into his side with a practiced ease that felt both natural and thrilling. He dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a greeting so sweet it made your heart flutter.

“I can’t believe it,” Cassie said, her voice mock-serious as she nudged Tommy’s shoulder. “They kissed!”

Tommy turned, feigning shock as he raised a hand to his chest.

“What? Really? Here? In front of all of us?”

Joel rolled his eyes, a small, indulgent grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What happened?” Sarah’s voice cut in, and you turned to see her standing in the kitchen doorway, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. She had her phone in one hand and a pair of headphones draped around her neck.

Tommy chuckled, clicking his tongue as if she’d just stumbled upon some juicy gossip.

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” Joel said, his tone dry as he ruffled Sarah’s hair. She scrunched her nose in exaggerated annoyance but didn’t bother hiding her smile.

“What happened?” she asked again, stepping closer to you.

“Babe, they kissed!” Cassie exclaimed dramatically, throwing her hands up as though she were announcing the news to the world.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but her grin widened. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Joel smirked, glancing down at her. “You’re just jealous,” he teased, reaching out to tug gently on her shirt.

Sarah crossed her arms, pretending to think.

“Hmm, no. I think I’m just glad I wasn’t here to witness it.”

Everyone laughed, the sound filling the room with a kind of easy warmth. Joel leaned closer to you, his breath brushing your ear as he murmured, “They’re never going to let us live this down.”

You tilted your head up to him, smiling. “I think we can handle it.”

“Famous last words,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

Cassie clapped her hands together. “Alright, enough romantic comedy. Who's hungry? Oh, I brought beers!”

Joel raised his hand like a schoolboy, and even Sarah nodded enthusiastically. You laughed, stepping back to let the chaos of the moment unfold, your heart feeling full in a way it hadn’t in a long time.

*

The late afternoon sun poured over Joel’s patio, softening the mild autumn chill with a warm golden hue. The air smelled faintly of delicious grilled food and freshly cut grass, a perfect backdrop for the lively conversation happening at the table. Cassie, Tommy, Sarah, and you were gathered around, full glasses and opened cans scattered between you, as Cassie regaled Sarah with the story of the time she’d met Robert Pattinson at an airport.

“I’m serious,” Cassie said, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “He was wearing this beanie, sunglasses—clearly trying not to be noticed. But I noticed, because, you know.” She gestured vaguely to her face, grinning. “It’s Robert Pattinson.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“No way. What did you do? Did you say something?”

Cassie waved a hand dismissively.

“Of course not. I played it cool. Just casually texted everyone I know while standing three feet away from him.”

“You didn’t talk to him?” Sarah gasped, leaning back in her chair like she’d been personally betrayed.

“Nope. I just let him exist in peace. But I swear, the man has an aura.”

“A Robert Pattinson aura,” you added, chuckling.

Sarah shook her head, her expression still incredulous.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve been in love with him since I saw him in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Cedric Diggory was the perfect guy. And then, you know…” She mimed an explosion with her hands.

Cassie’s grin widened. “Oh, just wait until you see Twilight.” She leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That movie… it was an awakening. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since.”

Tommy groaned audibly, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat.

“Come on. Vampires are supposed to be grotesque. Evil. You know, scary. What’s with the glitter skin? It doesn’t make any sense. If you want vampires, Sarah, you’ve gotta watch 30 Days of Night. Now that’s a vampire movie.”

“Tommy,” you interjected, placing your hand flat on the table for emphasis. “You’re missing the point entirely. Twilight isn’t about scary vampires. It’s about vibes. It’s an experience. I love grotesque, evil vampires—trust me, I’m a fan—but Twilight is something else. It’s special.”

“Special how?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cassie jumped in before you could respond.

“It’s not about realism, Tommy. It’s about longing. It’s about standing in the rain in a forest and declaring your undying love to someone who might kill you at any moment.”

“Yeah, sounds healthy,” he deadpanned, taking a sip of his bear.

“Listen,” Sarah said, her voice rising with enthusiasm as she gestured dramatically, “if Cedric Diggory is in it, I’m watching it. I don’t care if he’s sparkly or scary or made of actual glitter.”

“See?” you said, pointing at Sarah with a grin. “She gets it.”

Joel’s voice cut in from the doorway, where he’d been quietly watching the scene unfold. “What exactly are we getting?”

“Twilight,” you said, turning to him with mock seriousness. “We’re educating Sarah about the cultural phenomenon that is Twilight.”

Joel walked over to the table, grabbing an empty chair and sitting down beside you.

“I’ve seen it. I’m pretty sure it’s just two hours of people staring at each other dramatically.”

“Don’t forget the running through the forest,” Cassie added, laughing.

“And the baseball scene,” you said, grinning. “You can’t forget vampire baseball.”

Joel shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. “I’m not sure what’s worse—vampire baseball or glitter skin.”

“Neither,” Sarah said decisively. “The worst part is that none of you appreciate cinematic brilliance when you see it.”

The table dissolved into laughter, the warm sound filling the patio and blending with the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Joel leaned closer to you, his arm brushing yours as he said quietly, “You’re really defending this, huh?”

“Always,” you replied, smiling at him. “Someone has to.”

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the patio as the conversation at the table meandered through topics, laughter punctuating the air. Joel sat beside you, his beer bottle in hand, absently turning it by the neck as his gaze shifted toward the horizon. Something about the sky had caught his attention, his brow furrowing slightly, as if he were reading the clouds. He loved to do that.

Without a word, he stood and walked toward the grill, the sound of his shoes scuffing lightly against the patio stones. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, his body relaxed but purposeful. Your eyes followed him, and you noticed how the soft plaid of his gray-and-black lumberjack shirt shifted with the broadness of his shoulders. Beneath it, the snug black T-shirt clung to his torso in a way that made your pulse quicken. The dark jeans and worn black Converse completed the look, effortlessly rugged and so distinctly him.

You swallowed, trying to tune back into the conversation at the table, but the sight of him at the grill was distracting in the most infuriating way. He flipped a couple of pieces of meat with a practiced ease, one hand gripping the bottle of beer, the other wielding the tongs. His head tilted slightly as he examined the food, his focus so precise it felt unfair. He looked...hot. Infuriatingly, heartbreakingly hot. His hair was neater than usual, like he’d taken an extra moment to tame it, and his beard—God, his moustache—was perfectly trimmed, the edges sharp and intentional. His lips, soft and full, curved into a barely-there smile as he took a long, slow sip of beer.

The conversation around you had continued, but you realized you hadn’t heard a single word. Joel was all you could see, all you could think about.  

When you finally tuned back in, it was clear everyone else was engrossed in a debate about something trivial, their attention elsewhere. Seizing the moment, you stood, smoothing your hands over your clothes as you made your way toward him.  

His eyes met yours immediately, dark and warm, and his lips tugged into a soft smile that made your knees feel weak. You reached him, the air between you buzzing with something unspoken. Without hesitation, his free hand slid to your waist, a gentle but possessive gesture that sent a thrill through you.  

“How are you, beautiful?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” you replied, your voice softer than you intended. “What about you?”  

“Couldn’t be better,” he murmured, leaning in so his breath tickled the shell of your ear. The closeness made your heart stutter. “I love what you’re wearing.”  

A shiver ran down your spine, his words and the way he said them settling low in your stomach. His hand on your waist gave the faintest squeeze, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt.  

“Yeah?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, your pulse roaring in your ears.  

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes dipping briefly to your lips before meeting yours again. “You look incredible.”  

You smiled knowingly, the kind of smile that came from being perfectly aware of the effect you had on him. It wasn’t just the dress—it was that dress. The one you’d worn on his birthday, the one that had made his eyes soften and linger on you for just a beat too long. You’d noticed, of course. Joel didn’t have the best poker face, not with you. He had always found excuses to touch the fabric when you wore it, his fingers brushing against the light, soft material as you passed by him, as if he couldn’t help himself.

Today, you’d paired it with a denim jacket, the kind thick enough to ward off the gentle Austin autumn chill but casual enough to downplay the deliberate choice of the dress. A little armor, a little effort—it was all a balance.

As you stood in front of him now, his hand slipped up your back, fingertips grazing the fabric before settling on the base of your ponytail. He gave it a gentle tug, a playful motion that sent a little thrill through you.

“Careful,” you said, your tone light as you gave him a soft punch to the stomach, the flat of your hand connecting with his firm abdomen.

Joel laughed, a deep, warm sound that spread through the air and settled somewhere low in your stomach. He brought the beer bottle back to his lips, taking a slow sip before lowering it again.

“I love this dress,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. His lips curved into a smile, but this one was mischievous. “I've missed it.”

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could respond, he added, “And don’t think I forgot about this morning.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you shook your head at him, your smile widening.

“You started it, Miller,” you teased, leaning in just enough to make your point.

“Ooh, I love it when you call me that,” he said, squinting at you in mock challenge, his grin deepening into something boyish and utterly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes dramatically, but the fondness in your expression betrayed you. Your hand came to rest on his bicep, your fingers pressing lightly against the muscle there, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his shirt.

“I’ll go get more snacks,” you said, using the excuse to step back from him, though your smile lingered.

As you made your way toward the sliding door, you heard his footsteps following you. Without turning fully, you stopped and glanced back over your shoulder, a flirtatious smile tugging at your lips.

“Stay right there, Miller,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm, playful yet full of intention.

Joel halted in his tracks, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, his lips quirking in amusement.

“As you say,” he replied, the deep timbre of his voice laced with warmth, his eyes never leaving you as you disappeared inside.

Inside, the kitchen smelled faintly of warm spices and freshly chopped herbs, the remnants of the day’s earlier cooking. Sarah had joined you at the counter, her movements precise and calculated as she tipped the bags of chips and Doritos into bowls with one hand, each small tilt of the bag executed with care, ensuring no crumbs or stray pieces fell on the counter. It was something you’d always noticed about her: this quiet attention to detail, the way she moved through the world like it deserved her reverence.  

She was like that—careful, gentle. A quiet kind of sweetness radiated from her, as if she were always making sure everything was in its proper place, just so.  

Standing behind her, you watched her delicate moves, and for a brief moment, you let the noise of the world fade into the background. You felt your heart swell with something soft, something protective.  

“You have no idea how glad I am that you're okay,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, your hand resting lightly on her shoulder, fingers brushing against the softness of her skin. 

She stiffened slightly under your touch, a sigh escaping her lips before she turned to face you, her expression tinged with a mixture of guilt and uncertainty.  

“I’m sorry,” she began, her voice low, almost apologetic. “It was unintentional. I just wanted Dad to talk to you. And I'm not even afraid of bees,” she added, rolling her eyes as if to dismiss the whole thing with an almost self-deprecating laugh. 

You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the weight of the worry that had hung over her all day. You stepped closer, resting a hand on her arm.

“Of course it was unintentional,” you reassured her, brushing your thumb gently across her skin. “I know that much.” 

She nodded, her lips turning down at the corners, still not entirely convinced that it wasn’t her fault.  

“Irina felt really bad,” she continued, her words coming a little more quickly now. “She says it was her fault. I told her that’s not true, that it was just an accident.”  

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement creeping into your voice.

“She’s afraid of bees?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Sarah replied with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and disbelief. “She's terrified of them!” 

“Well, all the more reason,” you said, the corners of your lips turning up in a gentle smile. “Fear often paralyzes you. You don't know what to do or how to react in the moment. It was an accident, sweetheart, nothing more.” 

You leaned down to kiss the top of her head once more, a soft brush of your lips against her hair, and then pulled back with a playful look in your eyes. “But for the love of everything good, please don’t climb on tall things again.” 

Sarah laughed, the sound light and easy, as though the weight of the situation had finally begun to lift.

“Okay,” she agreed, popping a chip into her mouth with a dramatic crunch that echoed in the still kitchen.  

The sudden, sharp noise made you laugh, too, as you threw the empty bags into the trash and rinsed your hands under the cool water. You turned back around, wiping your hands on a towel, and found Sarah looking at you, her gaze softer now, almost wistful.  

There was something in the way she was looking at you, like she had something to say but wasn’t quite sure how to start. The silence hung between you for a few seconds before she finally spoke, her words wrapped in the kind of sweetness only she could manage.  

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper, as if afraid her question might break something.  

You paused, your heart suddenly lighter in your chest. You had no idea why the question made your pulse quicken, but it did. There was a tenderness in it, a care that spoke volumes.  

“Yeah, sweetheart,” you responded, approaching her again, your smile growing softer. “What is it?”  

She hesitated, her fingers tapping the side of the counter nervously.

"I... I know that now that you and Dad are together, some things are going to change," Sarah said, her voice quiet but firm, as if she was trying to convince herself of it. She paused for a moment. "And... and I'm happy about that. I mean, I love you, and I love that you're always here. And if you're with him now, I mean, as a couple, that means you're going to be here even more, doesn't it?"

You paused, absorbing her words, trying to place the depth behind them. There was something tentative in her tone, something that told you she was still figuring out exactly what all of this meant. You offered her a soft, reassuring smile, trying to make sense of her nervous excitement.

“I think so,” you replied with a light laugh, sensing her need for reassurance. "I think you're right. I'll definitely be around more."

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded quickly, as if the idea of you being there more—of you becoming a permanent fixture in her life—was something that brought her comfort. She let out a small sigh, like she’d been carrying this weight on her shoulders for too long and could finally let go of it. 

“Well, that,” she continued, her voice softening, as though the very idea of it was still sinking in. “I love being with you. You really are the most amazing, fun, and cool girl, and my dad is lucky to have you... and so am I. I'm so glad you're here." 

Her words tumbled out in a rush, the sincerity in them so raw, so real, that it hit you like a wave. You felt a sudden swell of affection for her, for how easy it was to be with her, to feel her warmth and openness so effortlessly. But then, just as quickly, her expression shifted, her smile fading as a new, softer vulnerability crept in.

"I was so scared when you guys fought," she said, her voice quieter now, her gaze lowering slightly, as though the memory of it was still too fresh. "My dad was... bad all the time, and I seriously thought you were going to go off and leave me."

The confession, the fear in her words, made your chest tighten. You moved closer to her, instinctively placing a hand on her cheek, brushing your thumb over the softness of her skin. 

"I would never do that, baby," you reassured her. "You’re stuck with me, alright?"

Her lips curved into a small, relieved smile, but there was still a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She leaned into your touch, seeking something—comfort, maybe.

“I know,” she said softly, her voice more certain this time, but then it dipped again. “But it still scared the hell out of me, because I love spending time with you, and sometimes, almost always, I wish you were my mom.”

She pouted slightly, a small, almost childlike gesture, and your heart fluttered with a mixture of tenderness and sadness.

Your heart tightened at the look on Sarah’s face. It was fleeting, barely a blink, but it was enough. Just a fraction of vulnerability slipped through before she masked it with a smile. But you saw it, and it pierced something deep inside you, a quiet ache that you couldn’t ignore. 

For a moment, she seemed younger than her years, the way her eyes reflected something you couldn’t quite name, some quiet sadness that she didn’t often show. She never spoke about her mother. Never. The absence of that conversation hung in the air like a shadow, one you could feel even when it wasn’t mentioned. 

You didn’t know much about of she felt before —how things had been before you entered her life, she never told you about it—but you had learned that she never spoke of her mother, not even in passing. The silence around it was telling. It was as if there had been a permanent erasure of that part of her history. 

But you, you had always been there for her. You had seen Sarah grow from a shy girl into someone who could light up a room with her smile. You had been the one she turned to when she needed someone to go with her to her school functions, the one she took with her to every event that called for a mother figure, even though you knew the absence weighed on her. 

You remembered the mother-daughter day at her school. It was one of those moments where you had tried so hard to be what she needed, to fill a space you knew wasn’t yours to fill, but that she still wanted filled nonetheless. You had spent the entire morning trying to reassure her, to make sure she didn’t feel too different, to make her feel like she wasn’t missing something that everyone else had. But Sarah? She’d been absolutely radiant, grinning from ear to ear, as if she were the happiest girl in the world. When she told Joel about it that evening, her voice was full of excitement, her eyes sparkling with pride. 

Joel had tried to talk you out of it at first, telling you that you didn’t need to put yourself in that position if it made you uncomfortable. But it didn’t, not really. What would have made you uncomfortable was not being there for her. You adored Sarah from the moment you first met her. The way she fit so seamlessly into your life, as if your heart had already known her before you ever met. 

You were lucky. She was incredible, and you had the privilege of watching her grow, of being a part of her life. 

But in that moment, as you held her, you could feel the weight of everything she had been carrying—the quiet fears, the quiet grief, the things she had never voiced. And it broke your heart all over again.

You reached for her, your hands trembling slightly as you wrapped her in your arms. You held her close, smoothing a hand over her hair, letting her feel the steadiness in your embrace. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” you whispered softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this. We’re adults, but sometimes we get it so wrong, don’t we? I promise... I promise we’ll never put you through anything like this again.” 

She pressed her cheek against your chest, her body shaking with the soft tremors of her sobs. Her words were muffled, but you heard them clearly. 

“I know,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to leave you, you know that, right?” You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your heart in your throat. “You’re my special girl, baby. My favorite girl. I love you too much for you to ever doubt that.”

Her eyes were glossy with tears, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips, a small, fragile thing. She pulled back slightly, looking up at you.

“I know,” she said, her voice still thick, but with a softer, more vulnerable quality. “And you’re my favorite girl, too.” Her smile flickered, but it was sincere. “Please don’t trade me for my dad, though.”

The seriousness in her tone was almost too much to bear, and despite the tears that still lingered in her eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your chest tightening with affection.

“Never."

*

“Oh, I’m so full. I’ve never eaten so much before,” Tommy groaned dramatically, stretching out in his seat, his hands settling protectively over his belly as if it might burst at any moment.

“You always say that,” Joel replied, his smirk almost too smug for the moment.

“And it’s always true, man,” Tommy shot back, raising his brows in mock indignation, “but don’t worry, I get over it. I’ll be eating again in like, two hours.”

The kitchen and dining area were finally in order, everything cleared and wiped down. Tommy, much to everyone’s surprise, had volunteered to clear the dishes after Cassie had jokingly called him a slob. The patio now had a tranquil, almost magical atmosphere. The warm lights Joel had strung up above flickered softly against the growing darkness, casting a golden glow over the space, while quiet music vibrated through the air in the background, a perfect close to the evening.

Sarah, having finished her ice cream, set the empty bowl down on the table with the same serious face someone might give after finishing a marathon.

“Done,” she declared, eyes wide with accomplishment as if she’d conquered an Olympic event.

Cassie, shaking her head with laughter, shot a glance at Sarah. “What a champ."

Sarah just shrugged and grinned. “It’s a talent,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Hey, speaking of talents,” Cassie continued, still amused, “I was thinking, how about we watch Twilight tonight? What do you think?”

Sarah’s face lit up immediately, a wide smile stretching across her face.

“Definitely!” she answered with such enthusiasm you would’ve thought she was agreeing to a life-changing event.

“I’m so excited for you to see it,” you chimed in, grinning. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Oh no, no... No, this is between me and Sarah,” Cassie interrupted, draping an arm over the back of Sarah’s chair, her voice taking on that dramatic, teasing tone she was so good at. “Besides, you look tired. Joel, you better keep an eye on my friend tonight.”

Joel raised an eyebrow but smiled, nodding gently.

“I can handle it,” he said, glancing over at you with that half-smile that only he could pull off.

You groaned in mock despair.

“Hey, I feel left out!” 

Cassie rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, we can watch it again when you’re feeling better. Promise.” She stood up, grabbing a few stray dishes—just a bowl and some empty glasses, which she began carrying toward the kitchen.

She paused at the edge of the table and turned to Joel.

“Is that okay with you, Joel? I’ll just borrow your little girl for the night. I promise I’ll take good care of her.” She raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

Joel didn’t miss a beat. “Analgesics every eight hours. She took them at five, so she should take them again at one in the morning. Do you have your alarm set, honey?”

Sarah nodded, eyes wide as she took her responsibilities seriously.

“Yes,” she said in her most mature voice.

Cassie beamed and added with a grin, “I’ll set one too.”

You watched the exchange, amused. Had they coordinated this already? Was this some kind of pre-established routine? Did Sarah know? It felt like a well-oiled machine.

Tommy, clearly not feeling like he was getting enough attention, sighed dramatically as he stood from the table.

“Okay, I see everyone has plans but me,” he said, feigning offense as he adjusted his hoodie. “So I think I’ll go home. Alone. And watch 30 Days of Night. You know, real vampires, kids.”

Cassie rolled her eyes but not without punching him lightly in the arm. Tommy made a theatrical groan, acting as though he had been mortally wounded.

“Ow, that hurt!”

Cassie didn’t let up. “You can come watch Twilight too,” she said, narrowing her eyes in mock contemplation. Then she turned to Sarah with a teasing glance. “Well, are you okay with that, kiddo?”

Sarah, always eager to please, nodded with the same enthusiasm she’d shown earlier.

“Sure,” she said, not even questioning it.

“Perfect,” Cassie said, grinning as she made her way toward the kitchen, but not before giving you a playful wink. 

After the three of them gathered their things, the house filled with the sound of their chatter as they made their way to the door. Sarah clutched her bag tightly, its contents bulging with snacks and her medications, her cheeks pink from excitement. You followed her, smiling as you stepped closer to say goodbye.

She turned to you, her small frame leaning into your embrace as you wrapped her in a warm hug. You kissed her on the cheek, catching the faint scent of her shampoo.

“Don’t miss me too much,” she joked, her eyes glinting with mischief.

You laughed softly. “I’ll try not to. Have a great time with Cassie, and tomorrow, I want to hear all about the movie.”

Sarah grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "I promise to watch it with you too, though. Cassie said you’d want to see it again."

Before you could respond, Tommy appeared beside her, his large hand resting lightly on her shoulder. He glanced at you briefly, his usual smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. Take me to Robert Pattinson,” he deadpanned, the teasing tone unmistakable.

You bit back a laugh as he guided Sarah out, pausing just long enough to murmur a quick, “Good night,” over his shoulder.

Cassie lingered behind, stepping closer to you with her usual energy. Her hand squeezed your arm gently, grounding you in the moment, before she leaned in and pressed a loud, exaggerated kiss to your cheek.

“Goooood night,” she said, her tone light but her eyes carrying something softer. Then she added with a wink, “Sleep well.”

You smiled at her, a quick, reflexive gesture, though no words came. By the time your brain caught up with your mouth, the door had already clicked shut behind her.

You stared at it for a moment, the faint sound of her footsteps receding on the other side. Then the quiet settled in.

Turning on your heel, you walked into the kitchen. The soft glow from the overhead lights cast a golden hue across the space, warm and inviting. Joel was there, leaning against the counter like he’d been waiting for you—or like he simply belonged there, effortlessly a part of the room. His hands rested on either side of him, gripping the edge of the counter, fingers splayed.

His posture was relaxed, but there was a charge to his stillness, a barely-contained energy that made your pulse quicken. His dark blue t-shirt clung to the broad planes of his chest, and his hair was damp, though almost dry now, messy in a way that suggested he hadn’t given it much thought after his shower. And then—those damn gray sweatpants. 

“I had to wash off the smoke,” he’d said earlier, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You hadn’t fully bought it then, and you still didn’t. But you weren’t exactly complaining.

Now, his eyes met yours, firm and unflinching. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth, slow and calculated, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Is it just me,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “or are we the only ones left in this house?”

You took a step toward him, and then another, closing the distance between you.

“I think so.”

When you stopped in front of him, you let your hands drift upward, settling on his chest. The warmth of his body beneath your palms made you feel reckless. Your fingers trailed over the fabric of his shirt, and then up to his shoulders, as if you needed the excuse to touch him. You looked up at him, your eyes tracing every detail of his face: the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the dark intent in his gaze.

“Do you think we’ll survive?” you asked, the hint of a smile playing at your own lips.

Joel didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his hands left the counter and found your waist, his grip firm, grounding you as he pulled you closer. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a murmur.

“Not a chance.”

Before you could reply, he leaned in, his face burying in the curve of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and the weight of his arms wrapping around you made you feel momentarily weightless. You closed your eyes, letting the sensation of him—his solidity, his heat—anchor you.

“Take me to bed,” you said, your voice quiet.

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes gleaming with something equal parts playful and lustful.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asked, his tone light, though the way his hands tightened on your hips betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

“I don’t think you’re the one who should be asking that question.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he pushed off the counter, taking you with him. His hands stayed on you, guiding, insistent, as he walked you backward, step by step, out of the kitchen.

“Are you going to show me all those things you’ve been thinking about?” he asked, his voice dipping, teasing.

In one smooth motion, he turned you around, his chest pressed against your back now, his hands steady on your hips. His lips found your shoulder, brushing lightly before trailing up toward your neck. His touch was both grounding and electric, his grip possessive but not unkind.

“That’s right,” you whispered, tipping your head back to rest against his shoulder, exposing your neck to him. Your voice was breathless, barely audible, as his mouth moved against your skin. 

Joel leaned in close, his lips pressing softly against your cheek, the briefest pause making the touch feel heavier than it was. When he pulled back, there was something unhurried in the way his hand slipped from your waist, like he was giving you time to notice the absence. Without a word, he turned in direction to the stairs, his eyes flicking upward.

You climbed the steps quickly, your movements unthinking but purposeful, every step creating a subtle sway in the fabric of your skirt. You were hyper-aware of Joel behind you, of the weight of his gaze on your body. When you paused at the landing and turned, expecting to meet his eyes, you realized he hadn’t followed. 

Joel stood frozen on the first step, his hand gripping the banister like it was the only thing tethering him to earth. His eyes were locked on you—not just you, but the sway of your hips, the taut curve of fabric stretched over the soft flesh of your ass. It wasn’t subtle, the hunger in his gaze, and it wasn’t kind. It was primal, raw, like he’d been stripped of language entirely and left with nothing but the aching weight of desire.

His breath had slowed, deepened, his chest rising and falling like he was trying to keep himself in check. But his expression betrayed him—he didn’t just want to touch you; he wanted to claim you, to mark you, to press his hands into the softness of your thighs until his fingertips left indents in your skin.

The thought of it made his jaw clench. He could imagine the give of your body beneath him, the warmth, the way you might shudder if he let himself take what he wanted. His desire wasn’t just to hold you—it was to devour you, like something sweet and delicious. He wanted to feel the heat of your skin against his lips, to sink his teeth into you, to taste you fully, selfishly. You were a dessert he’d never been allowed before all of this, and the ache of it—of you—was driving him mad.

Then he started to climb. You turned instinctively, flashing him a knowing smile before continuing upward, each step deliberately slow, each sway of your hips almost a dare.

Joel was right behind you now, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his breath catching as his hand found you. He didn’t hesitate, his fingers sliding under the hem of your skirt, brushing over the fabric of your underwear with a teasing familiarity. For a fleeting second, he played with it, tugging just enough to make you gasp, to let you feel his intent before he moved.

By the time you reached the second floor, he was no longer pretending at patience. He caught you by the waist, pressing you back against the wall with a force that was more need than control. His body pinned you there, hard and unyielding, and his hand claimed you again, squeezing the curve of your ass like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. The other hand traveled upward, tracing the line of your body—your waist, the curve of your ribs, the softness of your breasts—until it rested at your neck, his thumb brushing over the delicate pulse that betrayed your excitement.

You tilted your head back to look at him with a sweet smile, and that smile—God, that smile—was the final blow to whatever scraps of restraint he had left. With you, there was no self-control, no measured response. There was only this.

His mouth found yours, not in a rush, but with a softness that startled you, the contradiction of it almost undoing him. Your tongue flicked over his bottom lip, and when your teeth grazed the soft flesh, biting just hard enough to leave a memory, the sound he made was something between a groan and a plea, weak and broken.

With a subtle shift of his weight, Joel used his leg to nudge yours apart, his knee pressing gently but insistently until you gave in, letting him part you. He stepped closer, the heat of his body almost unbearable, and lifted you effortlessly against him. Your feet barely grazed the floor, leaving you suspended between him and the wall. His thighs held you steady, and his hands, rough and sure, gripped you.

Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, tangling in the damp strands of his hair as you pulled him closer. You kissed him like you couldn’t get enough, your lips claiming his, your breath uneven against his mouth. But even as you touched him like you were desperate, you refused to give him control.

Tilting your head, you deepened the kiss. Your hips moved against him in lazy circles, teasing, testing, drawing a low, guttural sound from deep in his chest. Joel groaned against your lips, his breath catching as you felt him harden beneath you. Impatient.

You broke the kiss abruptly, the wet sound of it lingering in the charged air between you. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling like he’d been running. You let the silence stretch, your breath warm against his cheek as you leaned in just enough to whisper, “No.”

The word slipped from your lips like a challenge, accompanied by a devilish smile that made his jaw tighten. Your palm pressed against his chest, just enough to create distance, and you slid down from his thighs until your feet found the ground again. His hands twitched at his sides, like he was trying to decide whether to let you go or pull you back into him.

“You said you wanted me to show you what I’d been thinking,” you reminded him, your voice soft but laced with mischief.

Joel smiled, though his breath hitched halfway, the sound uneven. His flushed neck betrayed him, the blush creeping higher as he nodded.

“Show me,” he rasped, his voice rough and low.

“Okay,” you murmured, taking a deliberate step back, your fingers trailing down his chest, then his abdomen, as you pulled away. His muscles tensed under your touch, his body reacting as if even the absence of your hands could break him.

“Then behave yourself,” you instructed, your tone playful but firm, “and do as I say.”

His smile vanished, replaced by something raw, a look so intent it left no room for words.

Joel nodded, his obedience immediate, though there was nothing passive about it. It felt like restraint—barely held, dangerously close to snapping.

You spun on your heels without waiting for more, walking toward his room with a confidence that made his chest tighten. When you reached the door, you extended your hand behind you, and he was there in an instant. His palm slid into yours, warm and firm, and his other hand found your waist as if he couldn’t help it—couldn’t stop himself from grounding you to him, needing to feel the curve of you beneath his fingers.

Inside the room, you guided him without a word, leading him toward the edge of the bed.

When you turned to face him, your hands slid up his arms, tracing the muscles there as if committing them to memory. You kissed him, soft at first, then deeper, coaxing him closer with the press of your lips. His need was palpable in the way he moved, how his fingers twitched like they wanted nothing more than to grab you, to pull you to him completely. But you didn’t let him.

Each time his hands wandered, you gently pushed him away, your touch firm but teasing, a silent reminder that this was on your terms. His frustration mingled with desire, but he obeyed, his breath uneven as he let you take the lead.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slowly, watching as his skin was revealed inch by inch. The sharp lines of his abdomen, the faint freckles scattered across his chest—all of it made your pulse quicken. But before you could finish, Joel took over.

With one sharp movement, he yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere in the room without looking, his focus entirely on you. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, the tension in his body evident in the way his shoulders tightened, the way his gaze locked onto you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

With a sly smile, you slipped your fingers into the waistband of his pants, tugging him closer, closing the gap he’d been aching to erase since the moment you walked into the room. His body yielded immediately, drawn toward you like gravity itself demanded it.

Joel leaned forward, his lips searching for yours, but you pulled back just enough to keep him chasing. The mischievous curve of your smile sent a flicker of frustration across his features, but it was fleeting, replaced by a raw, almost pleading desire.

“You looked so good this morning,” you murmured, your voice low and edged with something tender. “All I could think about was feeling you, all of you.” Your hand slid beneath the fabric of his pants, and when you discovered the absence of anything underneath, you let out a soft sigh. “Just like this.”

Your fingers wrapped around him, warm and firm, tracing the silken skin that stretched over his hard, heated cock. You brushed your fingertips over his swollen tip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. Joel’s eyes met yours, dark and glistening, completely consumed. 

Rising onto your toes, you pressed a kiss to his jaw, your lips trailing upward with deliberate slowness until they found his mouth. This time, he met you eagerly, his kiss filled with hunger but tempered, restrained in a way that showed he understood your game. He knew that if he pushed too far, too fast, you would pull away, and the knowledge seemed to both frustrate and excite him.

When you finally broke away, your breathing was shallow, your pulse a frantic rhythm in your chest. You slipped your hand from his pants, your fingers tingling from the lingering heat of him, and took a step back.

“Take everything off,” you commanded, your voice trembling slightly, though whether from emotion or need, you couldn’t say. “And lie down on the bed.”

Joel stared at you, his chest heaving, his cheeks flushed with color. For a moment, it seemed like he might resist, might challenge you just to see what you’d do. But then he nodded, his obedience laced with something deeper, a quiet devotion that made your thighs tremble in response.

Joel obeyed without hesitation, stripping off his sweatpants and shoes. When he stood before you, completely bare, the sight knocked the air from your lungs. Your gaze raked over him, tracing every line, every plane of his body, and the sudden rush of heat pooling in your stomach was almost overwhelming.

Your lips parted involuntarily, your mouth watering at the sheer, unapologetic beauty of him. Joel’s body was solid and soft, every muscle taut, and his skin flushed with a faint warm pink.

He moved to the bed without a word, lying back as you had instructed, his body stretching out across the sheets. His cock stood thick and proud, resting against his stomach, hard and swollen. The sight made your pulse quicken, each beat loud and insistent in your ears. He was completely, devastatingly yours to devour.

You kicked off your shoes, the thud of them hitting the floor barely registering as you climbed onto the bed, and the mattress dipped under your weight as you crawled toward him.

Joel propped himself up on his elbows, his dark eyes fixed on you like you were some kind of vision. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to—his expression was enough. It was desire laid bare.

Your hands found his thighs first, your fingers spreading wide to press into the soft, warm skin. You let your thumbs drag along the length of his muscles, kneading gently, savoring the way his body tensed and relaxed beneath your touch. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the slight tremor in his legs as you moved closer.

You leaned down, your mouth hovering just above him, so close that you could feel the heat of him against your lips. Then, slowly, deliberately, you dragged your tongue along the length of his cock, savoring the taste of his skin and the sharp inhale of breath it drew from him.

Joel’s head fell back immediately, a low, ragged sigh escaping him, as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. But the moment didn’t last—he was looking at you again within seconds, his gaze burning with an intensity that pinned you in place.

No, he wasn’t going to miss this. He’d be insane to look away.

Without warning, you dipped lower, your lips wrapping around the delicate curve of his testicles. The softness of the skin there was warm against your mouth, and you sucked gently, your tongue pressing in teasing circles as your hand found his length. Your fingers wrapped around him with just enough pressure, sliding slowly, deliberately, up and down, as if testing the limits of his restraint.

Joel let out a sound that was more than a sigh, something raw and unguarded slipping past his lips.

“Oh my God,” he murmured, the words breaking apart under the weight of his breath.

You released him with a deliberate slowness, your mouth leaving him with a wet, audible pop that seemed to echo in the charged air between you. The sound hung there and you couldn’t help the sly smile that curved your lips as you glanced up at him.

Your hand stayed on him, stroking with a rhythm that made his head tip back for just a second before his heavy-lidded eyes found yours again. You licked your lips, savoring the taste of him as you spoke.

“I want my mouth full of you,” you said, like a promise. “But you can’t touch me. Do you understand?”

He smiled faintly, though his eyes stayed closed, as if keeping them open might be too much, the desire too sharp to look at you directly. His eyelashes cast shadows against the flush of his cheekbones, and his voice, when it came, was low and rough.

“Why?” he asked, though the word felt like an offering more than a challenge. “I wanna touch you.”

You leaned closer, your breath warm against him, and his eyes flickered open, meeting yours with a helpless kind of longing.

“'Cause you said you wanted me to show you what I’d been thinking,” you replied, your tone tinged with playful authority. “And this is exactly what I’ve been thinking.”

Joel exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in a way that betrayed the weight of his surrender. He nodded, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face as his gaze locked on you.

“Of course, baby, do what you want with me,” he said, his voice a little shaky, a little wrecked. “And I’ll do whatever you say.”

You smiled, a small crack in the veneer of control you’d been wearing, and Joel’s lips curved into something sweet in response, so genuine it almost made you falter. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek with a tenderness that felt out of place amid the heat coursing between you. But you allowed it, leaning into the touch, savoring the contrast of his warmth against your skin.

The moment didn’t last long. Joel, with visible reluctance, withdrew his hand and let it fall back to his side. His fingers fidgeted restlessly, his knuckles tense as though he was fighting the urge to reach for you again.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured, his voice soft, like he wasn’t even aware he’d said it aloud. His head tipped back, exposing the long line of his throat as a groan escaped him. Your hand had resumed its slow, deliberate movements, stroking him with just enough pressure to keep him teetering on the edge of composure.

You licked your lips deliberately, watching him intently, your eyes following every flicker of tension in his body, every barely controlled breath. He was utterly undone in your hand—so ready, so hard, his need for you written across every muscle, every exhale.

Leaning forward, you let your lips wrap around the head of his cock, the taste of him warm, salty and intoxicating. You moved slowly, letting your tongue trace lazy patterns over him as your mouth took him in.

Joel moaned, low and broken, the sound sending a thrill through you. His eyes fluttered open, fixing on the sight of you, your lips and tongue working against him with calculated precision. His hands shifted restlessly at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling into the sheets as if he was clinging to the last shreds of his restraint.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough, almost hoarse. The way he looked at you—awed, overwhelmed—was enough to make your pulse race. And still, he didn’t move, didn’t touch, even though you could see how much he wanted to, how hard he was holding back.

Your hand began to move faster, your strokes gaining a steady urgency as your mouth took him deeper, inch by inch. Your lips formed a tight seal around him, gliding up and down in a rhythm that was both deliberate and merciless. Your tongue teased him with flicks and swirls, tasting him fully, the heat of him filling your mouth. The wet, obscene sounds of your efforts filled the room, a raw, unfiltered symphony of desire. Saliva gathered at the corners of your lips, dripping down his length and soaking your fingers as you worked him.

Joel’s breathing grew uneven, every exhale sharper than the last. You glanced up at him, catching the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rose and fell in quick succession. His eyes were open, heavy-lidded and glazed, but still focused on you, as though he couldn’t bear to look away. He was determined, it seemed, to take in every detail—the way your lips stretched around him, the way your hand tightened and twisted in sync with your mouth.

With your free hand, you moved lower, cupping him gently, your fingers tracing the soft skin of his testicles. You massaged them with care, applying just enough pressure to make his hips shift, his thighs tensing under your touch. The coordination was effortless—your hands, your mouth, your tongue—all working in perfect, relentless harmony.

Joel let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of noise that came from deep within, and you knew you had him. His head fell back, his throat exposed as he surrendered completely. His eyes fluttered closed, his body arching slightly, seeking more of you.

Then his hand rose, trembling slightly, hovering just above your head as though drawn there by instinct. Before it could rest against you, you pulled back, slowing your movements to a near halt. His cock slipped from your lips, glistening and swollen, throbbing visibly as you left him wanting, teetering on the edge.

Joel let out a weak, broken moan, his chest flushed a deep pink, every muscle in his body radiating heat. He looked like he was coming apart in slow motion, and the sight of him like this—undone, vulnerable, entirely yours—sent a thrill coursing through you.

You ran your tongue along the length of him, the motion deliberate and unhurried, savoring the way his body seemed to tremble beneath your touch. When you reached the tip, you cupped the base of his arousal with one hand, anchoring him as you leaned forward, letting your lips brush against him.

Then, in one slow, fluid motion, you took him into your mouth, sliding down his length until the swollen head of him bumped against the back of your throat. You paused, steadying yourself, and then pushed further, letting him fill you completely, your lips meeting the base.

“Baby,” Joel hissed, his voice ragged, the word barely more than an exhale. His eyes flew open, and he propped himself up on his elbows as if the intensity of the moment had drawn him back to consciousness. His gaze found you, dark and heavy with pleasure, and the sight of you like this—your mouth stretched around his cock, your nose brushing against his skin—seemed to undo him further.

You pulled back slowly, the motion precise, controlled, before taking him again, and again, each time deeper, smoother. Your movements built into a rhythm, your lips and tongue working in tandem, your nose bumping against him with every descent.

You surprised yourself with how easily your body accommodated him. Once or twice, with boyfriends in the past, you’d tried something like this, and it had felt impossible. They hadn’t even been as big as Joel. But with him, it was different—effortless, almost as if your body had been waiting for him.

Your pace quickened, the suction stronger, the hollow of your cheeks pulling tighter as you worked him. Joel’s breathing became erratic, his chest heaving, his whimpers breaking apart as he struggled to contain himself.

When you sensed him teetering on the edge, you slowed, pulling back until just the tip of him remained in your mouth. You flicked your tongue over the sensitive head in a playful, deliberate motion, a quick, teasing lick that made him shudder. Then, with a soft, audible sigh, you released him completely, pulling back and meeting his gaze with a knowing smile.

Slowly, with deliberate patience, you settled on top of him. Your palm pressed lightly against his chest, keeping him anchored to the mattress as though you needed to remind him who was in control. The steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your hand felt grounding, a contrast to the heat sparking between your bodies.

You shifted, positioning yourself so that your thin underwear brushed against him, wet and slick against the hardness pressing up beneath you. Joel’s gaze followed every movement with unflinching intensity, his lips slightly parted, his chest flushed with color.

Taking his hands, you guided them to your thighs, and he followed your lead willingly, his touch reverent. His fingers spread over the soft skin, squeezing gently before sliding down to cup the curve of your ass. He traced the same path back up, his hands moving as though he couldn’t decide where he wanted to linger most.

When you reached for the hem of your dress, lifting it with ease, his hands stilled briefly, the air between you charged with his anticipation. You slipped the fabric over your head in one fluid motion, letting it fall to the floor beside the bed.

Joel’s expression softened as he took in the sight of you, his lips curving into a small, unguarded smile. His eyes lingered on your bare breasts, the tender curve of your skin illuminated in the soft light of the room. You could see the restrained hunger in him, the way he longed to sit up and take your hard nipples into his mouth, but he didn’t move. His hands remained where you’d placed them, his obedience surprising you.

You leaned forward, your hands finding their place on his chest, steadying yourself as you began to move your hips in slow, deliberate circles. The friction was electric, the fabric of your soaking wet underwear brushing against him, creating a sweet, torturous sensation that sent a shiver through you. Joel’s hands tightened on your thighs in response, his breath catching, but he still didn’t move beyond what you allowed.

You let your eyes flutter closed, your head tipping back slightly as a soft gasp escaped your lips. Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with the pounding of your heart. A flush spread across your skin, a warm bloom of heat that seemed to radiate outward, pooling low in your belly.

Joel’s hands tightened on your ass, guiding your movements as your hips ground harder against him. The sound of the bed shifting beneath you, the quiet creak of wood and mattress, felt like a rhythm, a melody carrying you both closer to something inevitable.

You opened your eyes slowly, drawn to the point where your bodies met, the place where your need was most visible. Your core moved against him with urgency, dragging along his length through the damp fabric of your underwear. It wasn’t enough—it couldn’t possibly be enough. Without thinking, your fingers moved to the side of your panties, tugging them away to reveal the slick heat of your cunt, glistening and ready.

The sensation shifted instantly, impossibly more intense. The soft, hot skin of his cock pressed directly against you, his swollen tip brushing your clit with every movement. A choked moan escaped you, your hands finding purchase on Joel’s thighs as you arched your back, your head tilting to the side as your body chased the feeling.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, the words spilling out unbidden, your voice trembling. Your hips rocked against him, every motion sending sparks skittering up your spine. You couldn’t look away from him—his gaze locked on you, dark and focused, alternating between the slick heat of your center and the flushed expression on your face.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin, leaving behind the promise of bruises. His restraint, so palpable moments ago, seemed to dissolve entirely. There was something raw in the way he looked at you, his need unraveling in real-time.

“On my face,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely audible, like a secret meant only for you. His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, and when you looked up, his dark, desperate eyes locked onto yours.

“Sit on my face,” he repeated, this time a little louder. The intensity of his gaze, the hunger in his expression—it was impossible to refuse him.

You nodded, a silent affirmation, and let Joel guide you. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, their strength undeniable as he pulled you higher, positioning you exactly where he wanted. The warmth of his breath on your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, and then his mouth was on you.

The first touch of his lips and tongue came with a guttural moan that reverberated through your core, primal and hungry. It unraveled you instantly.

“Joel,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your hand shot down to his hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling tight.

He groaned again, the sound vibrating against you, his arms locking around your thighs to hold you in place. His fingers hooked the fabric of your underwear to the side, his mouth moving with intent and precision. He kissed your cunt as though worshipping, his tongue gliding in slow, deliberate circles over your clit. His eyes fluttered shut, his focus entirely on the taste of you, like you were his favorite meal.

Then his rhythm shifted, alternating between soft sucks and teasing flicks, the motions perfectly tuned to your body. The room filled with the wet, intoxicating sounds of his mouth and your uneven breathing. You couldn’t stop the soft cries spilling from your lips, each one punctuated by the heat building low in your stomach.

You were so close, the edge of release within reach, your body trembling under the weight of it. Almost instinctively, you began to move, rolling your hips against him, seeking more.

Joel smiled against you, the curve of his lips unmistakable even as his tongue worked its magic. His hand gripped your thigh tighter, grounding you, but his voice, low and wrecked, sent you spiraling.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his words hot against your skin, breaking only to drag his tongue across you again. “Ride me. Ride my face.”

The command was all-consuming, as though it was etched into your very bones. Your hips moved faster, a rhythm driven by need, and you threw your head back, your hair spilling over your shoulders as your body surrendered entirely.

“Joel, I’m going to—” The words tumbled out, but before you could finish, the sensation overtook you, a shattering wave of pleasure crashing through you. It consumed every nerve, your body vibrating with release, your voice caught in a broken cry as you clenched around the ecstasy Joel had pulled from you.

Your cries filled the room, raw and unrestrained, as Joel’s mouth continued its devoted work, tasting every shiver of your release. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you steady even as your movements slowed, your body trembling from the aftershocks.

It was too much—your sensitivity heightened to a point of near-pain, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You tried to lift yourself away, but Joel’s hands stayed firm, his mouth lingering, as if he couldn’t bear to let go of you just yet.

When he finally relented, his lips releasing you with a soft, wet sound, you exhaled a shaky breath, shifting your hips lower to rest against his waist. Your eyes found his, and the sight of him stole what little air you had left.

Joel looked wrecked. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and longing. His beard glistened with traces of you, a visible reminder of his devotion, and when he smiled—a slow, tender curve of his lips—it wasn’t just desire; it was love.

You leaned down, unable to resist him, and pressed your mouth to his in a kiss that spoke of both gratitude and need. It was slow but full of intent, your hands cradling his face, your fingers brushing against the scruff of his jaw and curling behind his neck.

Joel’s hands shifted to your waist, his touch gentler now, his thumbs tracing soothing circles into your skin. Even so, there was tension beneath his tenderness, a barely restrained hunger that made his fingers tighten slightly as if reminding himself not to pull you closer just yet.

When you broke the kiss, your forehead rested against his for a moment, both of you catching your breath.

“Okay, cowboy,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Joel’s grin was slow and crooked. His eyes glinted with mischief, but there was something deeper there too, something darker and hungry.

He didn’t hesitate. In one fluid motion, he pulled you closer, keeping you perched on top of him as his mouth found your breast. The warmth of his lips was immediate, the gentle pull of his tongue sending a ripple of pleasure through you. His hands gripped you firmly, one kneading the soft curve of your ass, his fingers digging in just enough to anchor you.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound turning into a moan as his tongue flicked over your nipple, teasing and circling. Your hands slid up the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging lightly in encouragement.

“Joel,” you whispered. He moved to your other breast, his mouth just as eager, as if he were discovering a secret he couldn’t bear to leave untouched. The wet, rhythmic sound of his lips meeting your skin filled the room, and you felt the edges of your control begin to fray.

Then, without warning, Joel shifted. In one swift movement, he laid you flat on the bed beneath him, the sudden change making you gasp. He hovered over you, his breath warm against your neck as he began to kiss his way downward, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

His mouth lingered at your collarbone, your sternum, then the soft curve of your stomach. Each kiss felt deliberate, reverent, as if he were committing every inch of you to memory.

Joel’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, and you lifted your hips instinctively, a silent invitation. He slid the fabric down your legs, his eyes fixed on you as he moved. The garment joined the growing pile on the floor, completely forgotten.

He knelt between your legs, his hands warm and firm as they pressed into your thighs, guiding them apart. The way he looked at you—unwavering, almost in awe—made your heart race.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, the words washing over you like a confession.

He leaned down, his lips brushing yours in the lightest kiss, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered against your skin, “Let me show you how much.”

Your hands framed his face, your fingertips brushing the rough stubble on his jaw as you pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was consuming, your mouths colliding with a desperation that neither of you could hide.

Joel’s weight shifted over you, pressing you deliciously into the mattress. The heat of his body settled against yours, his chest flush with your own, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. The angle was perfect, the pressure achingly close, and the promise of what was to come made your breath hitch.

His tongue swept into your mouth as the blunt tip of him brushed against your entrance. The tease alone had you gasping into the kiss, your nails digging lightly into his shoulders.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice trembling, your gaze locking onto his. Your eyes searched his face, wide and full of something raw, something vulnerable. “I love you, I love you so much.”

His expression softened, his features melting into something so tender it made your chest ache.

“I love you too, baby,” he said, grounding you as he pushed into you with aching slowness. His eyes never left yours, and the stretch of him inside you stole the breath from your lungs. “So fucking much. I’m so in love with you.”

A smile curved your lips, but it was short-lived as his mouth found yours again, swallowing the soft moan that escaped when he moved deeper, filling you completely.

Joel’s rhythm started slow, calculated. Every thrust was controlled but steeped in need, his body pressing into yours like he wanted to crawl inside you, to dissolve the space between you entirely. You felt it in the way his hands gripped your hips, the tension in his muscles under your palms.

The wet, rhythmic sound of him moving in and out of you filled the room, each stroke slick and purposeful. It made you shiver, and when he let out a guttural groan, his head dropping to bury his face in your neck, it was as if something inside you unraveled.

His teeth grazed the delicate skin at your throat, his lips brushing over the mark he left behind. The sharpness of it sent a jolt of pleasure down your spine, and his pace quickened, his hips colliding with yours harder, deeper.

“Yes yes yes— Oh, God—J-Joel,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his back, his name breaking apart on your lips. He was everywhere—inside you, around you, consuming you.

The rhythm of his movements grew frantic, unrestrained, and his moans became muffled against your ear, a wrecked symphony of desire that made you melt beneath him. Every thrust pulled you closer to the edge, your body arching into his as his name fell from your lips in a litany of surrender.

You bit into his shoulder, your teeth grazing the firm muscle as if to anchor yourself to the moment. Your nails left faint crescents in the skin of his back, a soft contrast to the unrelenting force of his body pressing you into the mattress. The sound of your bodies meeting, skin against skin, filled the room, a rhythm in perfect time with the erratic beating of your heart.

Joel shifted, bracing himself on one arm beside your head, the other wrapping firmly around your thigh. He pulled you closer, his grip possessive and sure, holding you exactly where he wanted you. The angle changed, sharper, deeper, and the intensity of his thrusts became something primal, something unrestrained, like he was staking his claim.

His gaze fell between your bodies, and you felt it as much as you saw it—the way his eyes darkened at the sight of you taking him, the slick evidence of your need coating his big swollen cock. A low groan rumbled from deep in his chest, his focus unshakable, as though the act of watching you like this was driving him just as mad as the sensation of being inside you.

Your hand reached up, shaky but insistent, pulling him back to you.

“S-so fuck-ing good,” you gasped, your voice fractured, the words tumbling out as if you could barely hold them together. “S-so good, baby. Please don’t stop—don’t stop.”

Joel’s lips curved into a smile, something rough and beautiful, his cheeks flushed with effort and desire.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you briefly, the heat of his mouth a quick reprieve before he was pulling back, thrusting harder. “Come for me again. Come all over my cock. All fucking yours.”

His hand shifted, pushing your legs higher, opening you up to him in a way that had you gasping. The angle was perfect, his cock hitting that devastatingly tender spot deep inside you with every thrust. Your back arched involuntarily, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you tipped your head back, your hands fluttering uselessly before finding purchase against his shoulders.

Joel pressed his mouth to your neck and bit down softly, the sting of it swallowed by the overwhelming pleasure radiating through you. His movements grew wilder, faster, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.

His hand slid against you, his thumb moving in deliberate, smooth circles over your clit. The sensation caught your breath, dragging a choked gasp from your lips. You opened your mouth, soundless, helpless, as the tension in you coiled tighter, your orgasm cresting just out of reach.

"Joel," you whispered, the name breaking out of you like a plea. Your eyes met his, and you found him already watching you. His face was undone, raw and aching. He looked wrecked, like he was hanging by a thread, his chest heaving, his skin flushed a deep red that spilled down his neck.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he stammered, his voice hoarse, barely more than a breath. That sound, the way he said it, was all it took to tip you over the edge.

Your head fell back, and the moan that broke from you wasn’t something you could contain. It ripped through you, sharp and desperate, splitting you open as Joel’s movements quickened, harder, deeper, like he couldn’t bear to let you go.

He watched you, unblinking, his gaze full of something that felt like worship. His voice was a low, guttural sound, raw with want and need, as he thrust into you, chasing his own undoing. You felt it in the way his rhythm faltered, his body trembling.

And then, with a shuddering groan, he came, his release pulsing hot and deep inside you, spilling into every inch of you like he was giving you everything he had.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body flush against yours. His weight pressed down, heavy and grounding, knocking the breath out of your lungs in the most exquisite way. For a moment, he let himself rest there, his warmth sinking into you. 

When he pushed up slightly on his arms, the loss of him—his weight, his closeness—made you moan softly, an involuntary sound. His smile spread slow and lazy across his face as his hand came up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked on yours.

Then he kissed you. Slow, tender.

Your hands moved to his curls, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You looked up at him, your gaze betraying just how deeply you were lost in him. Irrevocably, helplessly in love.

“Stay on top of me.”

His smile deepened, dimples flashing in the dim light. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I’m going to crush you.”

“I don’t mind. I like it,” you said, your fingers trailing along the curve of his lips, tracing the shape of him like you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Fine,” he relented, dropping his weight just a little more, still not enough. His mouth brushed your cheek, then your jaw. “But only if you let me taste you again.”

You laughed, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging lightly, playful.

“See? Impatient.”

His grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his face.

“Darlin', I’m not rushing anything,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours with every word. “We’ve got all night.”

[snaillock]

★ video games with your bllk boyfriend

started playing hello kitty island adventure so yeah you can say i’m quite the gamer

y’all would definitely be that couple. you know the ones with the matching users and icons in almost every damn game you play together. lowkey making everyone else gag whenever you two speak in the voice chat. constantly surprising each other with merch of your favorite characters. always doing gacha pulls together.

he never wants to do his daily check-ins without you, even if he has a wait a while for you to get on the game. too many times have you guys accidentally pulled all-nighters because you completely lost track of time. but who really needs to stay fully awake in school when you got shit to play with your amazing boyfriend.

★- NAGI SEISHIRO, ikki niko, otoya eita, hiori yo,

has the worst gamer rage you’ve ever seen holy shit. what you thought was going to be a chill nice hangout with your bf turned into him cursing out an entire lobby. you’ve always known that your boyfriend could have quite the… attitude problem but jesus christ the words that flew out his mouth were truly something else.

even when you two are playing against each other, you ain’t getting a pass just because you’re his lover. he will destroy you. so uh yeah no more mario kart for a while. just relaxing chill games from now on.

though he somehow manages to find a way to make stardew valley an profit driven stressful capitalist hell but he really can’t help it. it’s just in his blood.

★- rin itoshi, isagi yoichi (when he gets really into it), RAICHI JINGO, shidou ryusei

doesn’t really care to play video games but does enjoy watching you play instead. usually sits right next to you on the couch or lays in bed as he watches. he also asks so many questions about the game that it becomes borderline distracting.

“what’s that? hmm ok… so what’s going on exactly?” “who’s that? why are they shooting at you?” “so what’s the goal here? why are you doing that?”

after watching you play for a bit, he becomes an absolute backseat player; nitpicking a wrong move you made, telling you what you should’ve done instead, or criticizing you whenever you lose like he could’ve done any better???

“well if you used your burst right when it was ready, you would’ve gotten all three stars in that chamber.”

“what are you talking about?! i had to explain to you what a burst was five minutes ago.”

though it feels pretty flattering when he does get genuinely impressed by your skills or compliments you on a personal high score you just beat.

★- sae itoshi, kiyora jin, michael kaiser, reo mikage, barou shoei, chigiri hyoma

totally clueless. needs your help since he’s basically new to everything. whenever you two play together, it mostly just ends with you carrying him for every match or so. you do find it quite adorable that he needs your help so often, even if you do have to clean up after him whenever he makes a mistake. he would like to get better but honestly, he doesn’t care since he just enjoys spending time with you.

though you are starting to suspect that he’s purposely staying bad so you could keep carrying him.

“hey, i’m cool with being the support again for this match. it’s just you clear out the other team so well babe.”

★- tokimitsu, nanase, oliver aiku(cheeky ass mf), zantetsu tsurugi, isagi yoichi

please read and respect my byf/dni before reblogging/following

taglist (sign up): @userwithlotsoftime @lucas2060 @kiiyoooo @remy-roll @maochira

[hgfictionwriter]

Changes

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie’s used to change, but lately life has hit her with one thing after the next. When her best friend announces she’s leaving, she’s left wondering where it leaves her.

Warnings: none

A/N: Short little comfort piece based on this request.

“You haven’t had any of your tea,” you noted as you watched Jessie out of the corner of your eye.

She reacted slowly. After a few moments giving you a small noise of acknowledgment before she sat up on the couch and took a brief sip of her drink. She set it back down without a word or look.

Janine delivered her news today and Jessie had been very quiet and subdued all evening. She relayed the update to you over text earlier like it was something so trivial and commonplace. You’d asked questions, but even now as the day drew to a close, she very purposefully didn’t elaborate further.

You and Jessie hadn’t been together all that long, just a few months, but you knew her well enough to know that you shouldn’t push. She’d reveal more when she was ready.

So here you were, both quietly sitting on the couch, each immersed in a book. You read the same few paragraphs over and over, thoughts going astray and losing focus, made worse by how you noticed Jessie hadn’t flipped a page in several minutes.

Eventually, Jessie shifted, restless almost. You kept your eyes fixed on your book knowing it was best to let her come to you. In time she cleared her throat and spoke into her book.

“Janine’s leaving - moving away, getting married. Heck, who knows, maybe she’ll have kids soon. Sinc’s retiring. Maybe leaving, too, to be closer to her family.” She sighed quietly, opening her mouth to speak and stalling. She sighed once more. “I don’t know.”

Jessie set down her book and sunk further into the couch. She picked at her fingers absently and was quiet for a moment before giving you a fleeting glance.

“I guess part of me feels like maybe I’m falling behind in some way.” She stared vacantly at the floor before shifting again with another small sigh. “Or being left behind. I don’t know.”

“Hey,” you interjected gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t react. “Even if it feels that way, no one’s intentionally leaving you behind. They both love you a lot and you’re important to them.” You struggled to find the right words. “I can’t say for sure, but it seems to be the nature of your work. It’s not easy to put down roots or stay in one place for long. That must be really hard though.”

Jessie exhaled, letting her head fall back against the back of the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

“It is,” she said simply.

“And you’re not falling behind. National team captaincy. You’re a consistent starter for a Shield winning team. The list goes on.”

“The National team is great, but there’s so much bullshit too. I’m doing what I can, but I can’t help but feel like I’m not doing enough,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “And I don’t always feel like I’m gelling with the team here. I may start, but I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I haven’t necessarily made the impact I’ve wanted to.”

“There’s absolutely no road map for what the national team is going through. You led them out of a near impossible situation. I’d say you did exceptionally. And as for the Thorns, even if you feel that way, your stats say otherwise. It’s still a new team for you, it’s okay to feel like you’re still finding your place.” You sought eye contact with her, which she offered briefly. “And I think we both know you’re your worst critic.”

“Well. Considering my best friend is leaving to be closer to her fiancé and to, you know, build her life and career and I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself instead, I’d say I deserve some of that criticism,” Jessie said with a slight edge in her tone.

“Jess,” you said softly. “You need to be kind to yourself right now. It’s okay to feel bad or upset. I’m sure you were supportive when she told you and we both know you will be in all of your actions. You can still feel what you feel and be a good friend - all things can be true.”

She was quiet a moment longer before chancing a brief look at you before shifting and rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

“I don’t know. It just feels like a mess,” she said with a huff. “I guess I’m questioning some things now too. A big part of why I came here was to play alongside her and Sinc and in a few short months every aspect of that will no longer exist,” she relayed. “And I left Chelsea with so much confidence that this was the right move, that I’d never grow or get more of a chance there, but things have changed so much over there now I’m wondering what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.”

You cast your gaze downward for a moment, a pang going through you at her words. You hushed it immediately and refocused on her. This wasn’t about you.

“That’s understandable,” you said. “A lot of variables have changed. You couldn’t have known that would be the case though. You made the right decision for you in the moment and that’s really all you - or anyone - can be expected to do.”

She nodded quietly, eyes still trained on the ceiling. You tried to not let your emotions get the best of you. As apprehensive as you felt by this shift, Jessie was not yours to keep. You couldn’t and wouldn’t ever want her to stay unless of her own accord.

“Is that something you want to explore?” You asked, keeping all implications and judgement out of your voice. “Talk with your agent? See what options you might have?”

She shook her head right away. “No. I’m just - just talking. You’re right, I need to give myself time here. I’m just in my head. And being hard on myself.”

She offered you a small smile.

“And in some ways Portland feels more like home to me than London did even after three or four years,” she said. “Not only just lifestyle-wise, but I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t come here.”

Despite her words, all you could muster was a half-smile that you hoped was reassuring.

“You do seem at home here,” you chuckled, but soon grew earnest. “But, if you wanted to explore other options, I hope you know I wouldn’t hold you back. That’s the last thing I would want to do. I love you and want to support you in wherever your life takes you.”

You did your best to seem nonchalant. “We’re still new, I’m aware of that. So I hope whatever you choose to do, that it’s with solely you in mind. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Jessie turned to you now, her body language opening up as she looked at you. She took your hand.

“Hey, I know we’re new, but I love you, too. Even if everything was falling apart here - which, it isn’t, even if I’m talking like it is - it would all be worth it because I got to meet and fall in love with you.”

You held her gaze, digesting her words before smiling and nodding your acceptance.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you. I really hope you feel like there’s still a lot of good for you here - outside of me,” you said.

“I do,” she said with a soft smile. She released a quick breath, looking away before meeting your gaze again. “I just need to remind myself that everyone’s on their own path. Janine has hers. Same as Sinc. And I have mine too. They don’t need to always be parallel or intertwine. I just need to adjust.”

“That makes a lot of sense. You came here with a particular expectation and vision and it’s turning out differently than you pictured. It’s normal that you need some time to adjust.”

Jessie sighed, more contentedly this time and leaned her head on your shoulder. A rush of warmth and affection went through you and you kissed the top of her head. She wrapped her arm around your middle and cuddled in.

“Thank you for being so sweet,” she said. “And patient.”

“Of course,” you told her as you kissed her head once more.

“No. Some people don’t get it. They have a hard time giving me space when I need it. Like Janine,” she joked before humming softly. You gave her a squeeze.

“She’ll still be your best friend,” you reminded her. “You’ve spent more time apart than together and you’re solid - it’s never stopped you before.” You gave her a light nudge. “You may just have to take on more media now that Janine won’t be jumping to step in front of the mic.”

Jessie groaned with a laugh. “Don’t even put that out there.”

She exhaled, resting against you more fully.

“Truthfully, I’m feeling a bit lost or uncertain in some ways, but I have trust in myself and in the process. I know even if I’m feeling apprehensive about all of the change and upheaval around me, I know this is where I need to be. And to be here with you feels absolutely right.”

[eimids]

Don’t care about them

Alexia Putellas x reader

i’m gonna keep writing to annoy that rude anon😉

this is inspired by this whole situation going on in my blog!! enjoy nonnie i know you are reading this😚😚

warnings: bad body image, rude comments, angst

You and Alexia had dated for a year before your relationship became public. It wasn’t ideal but you were happy that now you were able to show to the world your girlfriend.

The press was having a field day after your relationship came out with the one and only, Alexia Putellas. They were writing about your life and every single thing you ever did.

That wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact that they were talking about your body and looks. Giving their opinions on your posts on instagram. Judging and criticizing if you are worthy enough for Alexia, the star player of Spain and Barca.

The articles weren’t all that bad but the comments were.

Under a photo with you wearing heavier makeup than usual.

“She wears way too much makeup, i bet she’s actually ugly and just maskes it behind that makeup”

If you weren’t wearing makeup.

“She’s so ugly, look at those eyebags. she doesn’t deserve Alexia”

Then there was a photo of you in a bikini.

“🤢 look at those things and that stomach. she should be a lot skinnier. alexia deserves much better than that”

“She’s trying so hard to suck her stomach in it’s pathetic”

“I wouldn’t be posting bikini pictures with that body”

You quickly decided to turn off the comments on specific posts. Not wanting to hear the mean words they said about you.

You went through the rabbit hole of scrolling and reading through every single comment before deleting the comments. It wasn’t good for you but you couldn’t help it. Just needing to read what they said about you. Some comments were actually nice. Telling you how cute you and Alexia were together. Probably most of them were nice but they went to blind eyes. You were only able to see the negative ones.

It quickly became too much for you. You actually started to believe the comments about Alexia deserving better. You started to isolate from her and from everyone. It was easy since Alexia was in the Spain women’s camp during international break.

It started as you just not replying to her texts so often and missing some of her calls but it quickly escalated to you completely ignoring her. You thought she wouldn’t care about your absence in her life but she did.

In fact she was stressing the whole camp about it. She didn’t perform as well and you were in her mind constantly. She thought she did something wrong. Luckily for her there was only one more day of camp and then she would see you again and solve this situation. She knew that whatever it was, you could work through it. You always did.

When Alexia came back home finally she found you in your shared bed. She noticed the dry tears on your cheeks and your phone in your hand. She decided to unlock it to see what it was.

She was horrified when she saw all the comments about you. How could anyone say those things about her precious girl. The girl who wouldn’t hurt or say anything bad about anyone. She hated that this was somewhat her fault. Her being a public figure, it was hard to avoid those comments.

She closed your phone and took her own in her hands to post quickly on her instagram. After that she cuddled close to you. Not wanting to wake you up but also wanting you as close as possible. She stayed like that for a while before falling asleep herself.

The next morning you woke up to the soft hands caressing your body. So gently touching every part of your body while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“Should we break up?”

That wasn’t at all what Alexia expected from your mouth and she tensed up immediately.

“What, why” She asked breathlessly.

“I don’t deserve you. They all say it. You deserve much better than me” You said while looking into her beautiful eyes. Tears creeping in your own.

“Absolutely not. You are more than enough and i love you more than anything my beautiful girl” She answered then quickly followed “You don’t actually wanna break up, right?” She asked nervously.

“No” You said and shook your head. You started crying to her about all the mean stuff in your comments. She listed carefully and assured that none of them were true.

The rest of the day she showed just how much she loved you and you stayed in bed for the whole day. Just before you went to sleep you checked your instagram. To your surprise there was a post from Alexia made the day before.

Liked by yourinstagram, Lucy Bronze and 1, 456, 789 others.

alexiaputellas: my beautiful, amazing, kind and loving girlfriend 🩷 te quiero mi niña

the comments you been writing about this beautiful soul are horrible and i disagree with them all. i couldn’t ask for anything better and if we are being honest, i don’t know how i deserve her but i’m so lucky to have her in my life<3

so for anyone who has been sending those comments, just stop. if you’re own life is that boring then maybe get some help 🙂

me and my girl will enjoy our life together 🤝

no me importa lo que piensen los demás✨

—

hehee

[electricbathsalt]

Things I want to talk about/touch upon/see people mention more but cannot compile individual coherent posts about:

1. The fact Pops’ daughter apparently had a “falling out” with Pops (over her marriage??) that caused her to completely abandon the yakuza and maybe also cut contact with Pops (the dude is suspicious guys)

2. The fact that in the Overhaul-LOV initial meeting, Chisaki had to have intentionally chosen not to kill Mr. Compress.

3. The idea that many of Chisaki’s thought processes at least partially stem from his time in AFO’s facility. And of course, Pops.

4. How much Chisaki seems to lack a proper reaction to any sort of pain (He was beat to a pulp by Mirio & Midoriya, exploded himself, & got his arms cut off and I’ve never heard him so much as yelp) while still complaining about how overhauling himself hurts?? Yet he doesn’t show it.

5. (Highway scene) How Chisaki only screamed once the realization he wouldn’t be able to ever wake up Pops sunk in (isn’t confirmed but. I’m convinced).

6. The fact that there’s absolutely no way Chisaki wasn’t negatively impacted by being raised in the Yakuza. It’s simply inherent.

7. The blatant disregard Pops had to have had for both Chisaki and Eri’s well-beings to have designated Chisaki as her caretaker.

8. The endless amounts of potential for Chisaki & Dabi/Touya dynamics post-war, platonic or otherwise. (Multiple fics with this premise in my WIPs, lol)

9. The fact Chisaki seems practically incapable of holding a grudge. Like, think about it; is there a character you can say Chisaki genuinely, wholeheartedly hates and wishes the worst upon. You know what—what IS his opinion on Shigaraki/the LOV these days??

10. Realizing that in the initial Overhaul-LOV meeting, Chisaki literally just tone-matched them. Look:

Mr Compress says all that, and then Chisaki later explains:

Which, once you break down what Mr Compress said/how he said it, and what Chisaki said/how he said it… blunt statement of facts. Mr Compress told Toga how faded out the Yakuza have become with no sugarcoating, and Chisaki took that and said. “Well. Yeah.” But then when Chisaki did the same thing (blunt but true & valid criticisms of the LOV/Shigaraki’s leading skills (bc let’s be real, he was an ass leader at the time in terms of actual planning and execution)), the LOV got pissed. He pointed out all the relevant flaws and mistakes in Shigaraki’s leadership and then said it’d be better if he was the leader because he actually has a plan, and they got pissed at the mere prospect of serving under somebody else. Do you realize how much the story would’ve been altered if the LOV didn’t decide to just start attacking Chisaki here?? 💀 Sorry I’m exceptionally passionate about this bc the fandom gaslit me for a while into believing Chisaki was the one starting shit here 😔 but then I read it (a long time after I'd watched it in the anime) and was like. "what. he didn't initiate literally any of this shit. and everything he's saying is true??"

There’s probably more I could add to this but it’s getting long enough lol.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Perfect - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: Okay, so I really hope this is good. I based the Reader off myself, so I hope the reactions and frustration are at least somewhat accurate. I also added a little bit of angst. Hope that’s okay

Based on this request

CW: fluff, angst, Reader has AuDHD, Reader is an artist, frustration, anger, perfectionism, pacing as stimming, Logan is a good boyfriend, Reader is called handsome, Reader is his own worst critic, forehead kisses, cheesy ending, soft ending

699 words

“Logan!” You almost jump out of your seat, not expecting to look up and see him standing there.

It’s a habit of his, moving silently. It scares the shit out of you most days. You’ve nearly gotten hurt jumping out of surprise.

Today you just drop your sketch pad, your pencil falling to the floor. You bend down to pick them up, setting them to the side.

“You said you wanted to see me?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, watching you with an expression of vague amusement.

“Oh! Yeah!” You grin up at him. “I wanna draw you.”

He blinks and tilts his head a little. “What?”

You nod eagerly and get up, pacing a little. “I saw an art challenge online about drawing something you love. So I want to draw you.”

He snorts, watching you move about the room. “You’re fucking cheesy, you know that?”

You give him your best puppy eyes. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. “Fine. But I’m not wearing a shirt for it.”

You hesitate for only a moment before agreeing. It’ll be fine. You’re great at drawing. This’ll be a piece of cake.

You’re on your fourth attempt and it’s only getting worse. You don’t know why, but you just can’t get the shape of his stomach right. No matter what angle or line you use, it looks… odd.

You exhale in frustration, feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never struggled so much before. Why now? Why now? Why with Logan?

“Hey, hey.” He crouches next to you, resting a hand on your thigh. “Calm down. Just breathe, alright? It’s just a drawing.”

“It’s not!” You don’t mean to snap, but the frustration feels endless. “It’s a drawing of you! It had to be perfect!”

You get up out of your chair and stalk about the room, clenching and unclenching your fists. Tapping them angrily against your sides. “I’ve done this like a million times before! Why not now?”

Logan watches you for a moment. Then he picks up one of your abandoned sketches and smoothes it out. “This one looks pretty good to me.”

You barely glance over. “It’s not good enough.”

He frowns.”It’s good enough for me. I like it a lot. Especially the way you draw my eyes.”

That gives you pause. You stop your angry pacing and turn to look. He holds up the drawing for you to see. If you ignore the stomach and the unfinished arm… you guess he has a point. You did capture his eyes well… and his shoulders. Those were hard.

You cross your arms, giving yourself a moment of sulking before you sigh and relent. You hate fighting with Logan and you don’t want to start arguing over something he genuinely seems to like. Even if it’s not perfect.

With a soft grumble, you walk over and tuck yourself into his side. Wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into him. It helps soothe the last of your frustration. Calming the burning restlessness in your limbs, even just a little.

He rests an arm around you, still studying the drawing. You eye it with a light glare, but hold back from commenting on everything wrong with the drawing.

“It’s perfect,” Logan says, finally. “My favorite.”

You blink up at him. His… favorite? Out of all your drawings, this is his favorite? “Wh— Why?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I just love it.”

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous he doesn’t have a reason, but you don’t say that aloud. Instead you just nod. “Alright.”

He gives your side a soft squeeze. “You good now, handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because it’s my turn now. I’m drawing you.”

You fake a groan of protest, but willingly head over to the couch. “I expect a full scale portrait. Complete with horses and a golden chariot.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll do my best. Just sit down.”

You grin as you sit. Maybe your drawings didn’t turn out perfect, but your boyfriend certainly did. Maybe not for anyone else, but perfect for you. And you wouldn’t want him any other way.

Logan Howlett Taglist: @yhlqmdlg @alekkkkssss

[solarmorrigan]

Movie Nights

For the @steddie-spooktober day 25 prompt: Frankenstein Friday Rated: T | Words: 1514 | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, outsider POV, I know the movie is over 90 years old but I didn't actually watch it myself until a month ago, so just in case there's anyone else out there who hasn't seen it, Frankenstein (1931) spoilers Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Part 3 of the Good Neighbors series

Gladys can appreciate new things. Books, television, music – the little joys to be found in new discoveries are what make life worth living. She isn’t as set in her ways as some people her age can be, but she does have her favorites.

She loves her mysteries and her thrillers above all else; the likes of Agatha Christie, Elizabeth Peters, and Arthur Conan Doyle line her shelves. She’s dipped into the genre of spies and intrigue, digging into Ian Fleming and John Le Carré. She’s even been known to appreciate a good horror film now and then.

Emphasis on “good.”

“So this is what passes for horror these days?” Gladys asks as a young man on the TV screen is sucked down into his bed, only to be spat back out as an absolute geyser of blood.

Eddie chuckles, glancing up from the screen. “Not your cup of tea?”

Gladys leans on the back of the couch, resting her arms there. She’d only come over to the boys’ apartment to see if they had a spare baking dish she could borrow; they certainly hadn’t invited her in to critique their choice of entertainment. But all the same–

“I just think they should try a little harder to really scare people. These days, it’s all shock and gore. All they have to do is shower people in blood and call it a day,” Gladys says. “I remember a time when they put real effort in.”

“Back in your day?” Eddie teases, grinning at her.

Gladys tsks, cuffing him upside the head – not hard, barely more than a tap, but he still falls sideways onto the couch with a gasp, clutching his head, and then rolls right off and onto the floor with a thump. Gladys rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bother to hide her smile at his antics.

“Hey, will this work for–” Steve exits the kitchen, a glass baking dish in his hands, and stops as his attention is almost immediately diverted to Eddie. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Gladys attacked me,” Eddie replies.

“Oh. Good for her,” Steve decides, holding up the dish again. “Will this work for you?”

“That would be fine,” Gladys says, accepting it as Steve passes it over.

“She also thinks my movie is trash,” Eddie says brightly as he levers himself back up onto the couch.

“I did not say it was trash,” Gladys says. “At worst, I said it was cheap.”

“Okay, but that’s not better,” Eddie says.

“I’m not a huge fan, either,” Steve leans in to stage whisper to Gladys, “but it makes him happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s a critic.” Eddie rolls his eyes, then leans back a bit so he can look up at Gladys. “What would you call a good horror movie, if not the genius of Wes Craven?”

Gladys purses her lips, thinking for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen the classics? Dracula, The Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

Eddie lets out a thoughtful little noise, shaking his head. “Can’t say I have.”

“Well, you ought to. You’ll see where it all began, then,” Gladys says.

“And I get the feeling you’d enjoy showing us,” Eddie says, wiggling his eyebrows up at Gladys.

“’Us’? Who’s ‘us’? When did I get roped into this?” Steve asks, and Eddie reaches out to take one of his hands.

“We’re a package deal, baby, everyone knows that,” Eddie says.

“No one around here but Gladys knows that,” Steve reminds him.

“Everyone important knows that,” Eddie amends. “Anyway, what do you say, Gladys? Feel like educating a couple of horror philistines such as ourselves?”

“Well,” Gladys says slowly, “I’m sure I could come up with something.”

This is how she ends up in her armchair the following Friday night, the boys both sitting on the loveseat, all watching as the audience is warned of the frightening nature of the upcoming film playing out on the television.

“Now, this wasn’t Universal’s first horror film, and it wasn’t even the first movie adaptation of Frankenstein,” Gladys says when the opening credits come on, “but it is a bit iconic. I thought you might get a kick out of it.”

“But is it scary?” Eddie teases.

“Well, I don’t know about scary, but maybe a bit shocking. Look at it this way:” Gladys says, “it was 1931. Graverobbing and murder might seem mundane to you, but we weren’t quite as desensitized to seeing it on the screen back then.”

Steve glances over at her. “Do you remember when this came out?”

“Oh, barely.” Gladys wiggles her hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. “I certainly didn’t go to see it in the theater, I was only six or seven at the time.”

“Still, that’s pretty cool,” Steve says, and Gladys favors him with a smile.

If they aren’t altogether horrified by the movie, the boys are at least engaged, keeping up a running commentary that has even Gladys laughing. (“He had that coming,” Steve says when the monster finally catches Frankenstein’s assistant. “Yep. Rest in pieces, Fritz,” Eddie adds.) However, as they reach the midway point, the father onscreen bidding his daughter to go play with her cat while he works, Steve shifts uneasily in his seat.

“Wait, they’re not going to do anything to the cat, are they?” he asks, cutting a worried glance at Gladys.

As if the thought hadn’t occurred to him until Steve voiced it, Eddie sits up straight in his own seat. “Gladys,” he says, pointing an accusing finger at the screen, “you’re not showing us a movie where they kill a cat, are you?”

One brow raised, Gladys regards the pair of them. “You’re worried about the cat, but not the child?”

Steve scoffs. “It’s 1931, they’re not gonna kill a kid,” he says, while Eddie nods in agreement.

Both brows raised now, Gladys only gives them a little “hm,” and turns back to the screen. With some suspicion, Eddie and Steve do the same, watching as the scene unfolds.

“Oh, shit,” Steve says, taken aback as the monster tosses the little girl into the lake.

“Damn. Guess we should’ve worried about the kid, after all,” Eddie says.

“You have to have some idea of how this movie ends,” Gladys says, shaking her head. “Did you really think they’d form an angry mob over a dead cat?”

“I would,” Eddie declares, then looks down at Steve, who at some point in the last half hour had ended up tucked into Eddie’s side (when, Gladys isn’t sure, but it’s sweet; it’s a pleasant feeling knowing how comfortable the two of them are here). “Steve, would you form an angry mob with me if someone killed our cat?”

“We don’t have a cat,” Steve says.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie insists, and Steve relents.

“I would come with you if only to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed,” he decides.

“I’ll take it,” Eddie says with a shrug.

The rest of the movie plays out on the screen – the forming of the mob, the confrontation with the monster, the burning windmill, and, at last, the peaceful conclusion.

“Wait,” Eddie says, brows furrowed as he watches the end credits play, “that’s it? That’s how it ends? A toast to the house of Frankenstein, the end?”

“Yes…” Gladys says slowly. “Why? How should it end?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about a little restitution for the guy whose daughter got murdered?” Eddie demands, shooting up out of his seat so quickly that Steve has no time to brace himself and falls sideways onto the loveseat with a little ‘oof.’ “How about a little accountability? I mean, seriously, this is just typical; some rich, entitled asshole plays around with things he can’t control, creates a problem he refuses to solve, and the poor end up being the ones to pay the price!”

“Now you’ve got him started,” Steve mutters to Gladys as he sits himself back up.

“Is there any way to get him to stop?” Gladys asks, though she’s a little fascinated with the theatrical way Eddie throws himself around the living room as he rants.

“Uh.” Steve glances over at Eddie and back away again, and there actually seems to be a little color rising in his cheeks. “Not, um…”

“Take him home first, if you’re planning to do something like that,” Gladys says primly, only to lose the fight to her laughter when Steve looks over at her, aghast.

“I wouldn’t–!” he protests indignantly, his face going redder.

“Are you guys even listening to me?” Eddie demands, turning back to face the pair of them.

Gladys declines to answer, asking instead, “Eddie, dear, how did you like the movie?”

“Oh. Aside from the ending, it was great.” Eddie drops back onto the loveseat, reaching out absently to tug Steve back over to his side. “What else ya got?”

“Well,” Gladys says, picking through the stack of tapes she’d managed to dig up at the video store. “If you like entitled rich people, let’s see how you feel about Dracula.”

[howiscallmewhateveridctaken]

Lmfaooo what a week 😅

So a lot of people are, understandably, leaving the fandom. Drama like this always tends to put people off and unfortunately that affects the media they’ve come to love. I’m not going to be one of those people bc honestly, I don’t even know if I was ever that “in” the fandom in the first place to even leave it. My account isn’t and never was a nevermore account, yes I’ve made a few nevermore post but those were infrequent and amongst posts and reblogs of multiple other fandoms. I’m also in the discord server but I’ve only ever been a lurker, and usually only ever go in it when I want more context to something I’ve seen on tumblr. With that being said however, I still plan on reading nevermore when (or if) it continues because in THIS particular instance I can easily separate art from the artist and I’ll explain why in a moment.

Like I said I’m not and never have been very active in the fandom. I learned about this drama through a post from an account I follow and went through the server to find more context. I was not present through any of the actual conflicts but I’ve seen the conversations.

So why am I commenting on this?

Well mainly I want to make a point about para social relationships as well as moderation of servers and fandoms as a creator.

I just want to preface this by saying that after reading through all possible context, perspectives, takes and evidence I could find or come across, I genuinely don’t think red is necessarily a bad/morally wrong person. I DO however think she is in the wrong in this situation especially due to how she handled everything. As for how a lot of people are reacting to everything, there’s a couple of things I’d like to note:

From what I’ve seen, all of this is just one big thing of “he said/she said” and pointing fingers as well as just picking sides. If your absolutely distraught because red didn’t turn out to be the person you thought they were simply because she said things you didn’t like, I understand the disappointment and frustration but please remember that content creators in general aren’t your friends. You don’t know these people, they just do things you happen to like. Now I’m not saying you SHOULDN’T feel upset about it, it’s ok to and you even should if it’s an issue to you feel strongly about but please keep in mind that this isn’t a “sign of their true colors” or anything because you don’t know what they were actually like to begin with. Ofc I don’t mean that to say “expect the worst from people” but more as a reminder that can hopefully help you to look at the situation more critically and logically before jumping in guns blazing. It’s understandable if it affects you emotionally, you were emotionally invested in their work; but please realize this before you let it get to that point. Now on the other side of the coin, there’s the people who I feel as though will just pick the creators side simply because they’re fanboys and will stand by them no matter what. I’m DEFINITELY NOT saying that’s what everyone who’s on red side is, but naturally there’s bound to be a few that are going to dickride for the sake of dickriding. Regardless, there’s a lack of willingness to listen and understand from both sides (at least from what I’ve noticed) and that’s a problem because when no one wants to listen then what’s supposed to be a community coming together to resolve an issue just turns into a giant flame war. Also this should go without saying, but at least give the mods a chance. They obviously handled the whole situation horrendously but they aren’t going to do their jobs any better when they’ve got people coming at them with pitchforks.

Speaking of the moderators. I genuinely can’t wrap my head around how red and the other mods have managed to fumble this badly…….like it’s almost funny. All said and done they all had ONE very simple job and they blew it. Although I very much disagree with it, I do understand red’s decision to unban crimson. They wanted to give them a second chance, sure whatever. What I DONT GET is why would they not at the very least check to see if anyone else would be comfortable with a decision that would possibly affect them or even impact their safety. At the very least a warning to or a discussion with the victims would have been something. Not only that but even after they unban them, once red saw the NUMEROUS amount of people that were upset about it they, they should have immediately banned them again and then apologize after instead of some rushed explanation. But I get it stress gets the better of you. I understand their desire to keep things as transparent as possible (which i appreciate and I’m sure so do many others) but from that first apology/explanation it felt more like red trying to shake responsibility off themselves and pointing fingers in the guise of being transparent. I did see where red was trying to get at in her first statement, but there was also things that she honestly should have just had the foresight to realize wouldn’t put her in a better light, and this is aside from the victim blaming-esque wording. red basically says that she felt like a group of people (including Laci the one who reported crimson) were just out to get crimson, which is absolutely insane but then again it’s the internet so who knows. However it’s super clear that Laci obviously wasn’t lying bc the things she accused crimson of did in fact happen. So even bringing that up was enough for me to raise my eyebrow at but I digress. Then red practically says it was hard to handle the situation bc the evidence provided was censored, but Laci literally offered to give the uncensored versions so that was completely disingenuous on red’s part at best. To me it just seemed like the mods were looking for excuses for what could be there own laziness at best and negligence at worst. Their biggest fault so far is not being very good at actually listening to their audience and taking them into consideration. She also brought up that fact that Laci was apparently the only person to report crimson which I did not like to say the least. One of the victims confided in Laci and Laci brought it forward. I understand reds suspicions about Laci not being in the actual server where it happened but how are you going to immediately jump to “well why did no one else bring it up” instead of stopping for a sec and thinking “ hm clearly these victims feel uncomfortable stepping forward”. Which they had to do now anyway because of how bad the issue became. They should not have had to do that. Better it be just one person reporting, even if it’s someone you don’t like, than no one reporting and the issue persists under the radar.

And then there’s red’s formal apology…

First off, girl why are you dropping names??? A bunch of who are supposedly minors? Like let’s be so fucking for real right now😭

And then the audacity to be like “please don’t go after or dm these people” like babes if you were genuinely worried about them you wouldn’t have used their names at all. ESPECIALLY when in the end it was completely irrelevant and borderline inappropriate since it really had nothing to do with crimson, their actions or how you handled them. Not to mention the act of calling them “cliques” when literally all they were was side servers. Like if they’re cliques then what does that make red and everyone who’s on her side? It was very clearly just a biased reaction to people saying things she doesn’t like about her, which by all means she has the right to respond to but not in a way that is clearly trying to sway how everyone else sees them. The way red describes everything is as if it’s middle school drama and then proceeds to play directly into it. Don’t get me wrong her apology was fine, when she was ACTUALLY apologizing. Everything else felt like a last ditch effort to drag others under the bus with her. It was lowkey embarrassing to say the least.

Again, it’s important that I make it clear that I don’t believe red is a bad person. I just think she’s an immature person, or at least she is in how she handled everything and continues to handle it bc like I said I don’t know her, and don’t care to frankly. I didn’t start reading nevermore to be buddy buddy with her. Like if we look at the grand scope of things, this is a grown woman beefing with kids. Obviously they aren’t all kids, most of them aren’t I believe but she’s practically stooping down to school yard conflict in how she’s responded so far. Especially at one point in the server when she was being called out and jumped to “yeah I guess I’m the bad guy and totally evil. You all should hate me”. Like actually cut that shit out, what are you doing. I mean honestly.

And my final point because I’ve ranted long enough. I mentioned before that in this instance I am willing to separate the art from the artist, I stand by that because I genuinely do think this is a situation where red could hopefully grow from this and rectify things. The actual unbanning was a stupid and inconsiderate move on her part, but I don’t think she meant any ill-will or had any malicious intent. I disagree with the people calling her a r@pe apologist because that’s honestly just a huge reach. I’ve also seen some accusations of red and/or Flynn being racist, promoting inappropriate art knowing there’s minors around and from what I’ve seen it’s pretty iffy. Regarding the racism, I don’t believe that they are. Their characterizations of the characters regarding their ethnicities IS stereotypical and was obviously just very surface level research into those respective cultures but I chopped that up to ignorance rather than racism. As a woc I was frankly just relived they didn’t make the poc characters centered on some kind of discrimination or tragedy from their era, which yes is something that shouldn’t be ignored but also I don’t know if rednflynn could accurately and more importantly, respectfully portray those types of issues. Nor is it even their place tbh. With that being said however I don’t belong to most of the cultures the characters belong to. To me it never seemed like they were making a caricature out of these cultures, especially since their ethnicities are barely relevant to their stories anyway but I acknowledge that it’s not my place to deem what’s offensive or not.

As for the promoting inappropriate art of the characters and creating some themselves. Yeah they do. I’ve never been shocked about that nor did I think it was something that they are wrong for doing, I mean it’s their own work. Granted I didn’t realize how many minors were in the fandom but that’s literally every fandom, there’s only so much you could do about it. I don’t know if nevermore has a rating but it’s not like it was something ever promoted to be kid friendly, it’s obvious that some scenes are just straight up fan service. While I personally don’t like fan service it never was enough to impact the story so I personally never saw an issue. But point is I don’t think they should have to monitor what is and isn’t appropriate for minors but things get tricky when they have a server where they are clearly aware of minors.

And then there’s other things like people accusing them of promoting SA or some shit like that bc of a lot of stuff involving Montessor which frankly, that’s just a media literacy issue on the readers part. So yeah with that being said I don’t think red is a bad person, although I understand why a lot of people are done with them which is completely fair. I’m pretty much in a grey area about it, who knows if they end up getting in an even bigger scandal, hopefully they come out better from this but only time will tell. The best/smartest thing red has said throughout this entire debacle was that they’re taking a step back from the fandom. I think it’ll be good for everyone, especially them. It seems like it’ll take stress off them anyway. Plus the hole they’ve dug for themselves is already halfway to china by now so there’s that

[frenchkanna1808]

Why chapter 3 was a enormous let down and the possible negative impact it might have on the rest of the game

I remember after finishing chapter three one how exicted I was, how deeply impressed I was with the banquet and the qtaro development. And I mean I wasn't the only one, again and again I had seen so much praise about chapter three and how awesome it was. How great midori was as a villain (my like idk how many words analysis about him is very much explicit of that), How amazing qtaro development was, and mainly how great the banquet was, and I had seen the claim around that 3-1 was as great or even better than 2-2. And so I had decided after the hype fell down a little to play yttd again with friends, and that when I realized, god , wait, chapter three is like, extremely mid. I played the entire chapter 1a and it only got to the heights of 1b. I at first couldn’t tell what was wrong with the game, why did it feel so disappointing? And after a while I have finally looked back at the chapter, and yes this chapter is not only extremely lackluster but also a very bad prediction for the future of yttd if 3-2 is written the same. So here in this long french analysis I will discuss the main problem of chapter three the absolute shit characterization of almost all the characters. But also the destruction of emotion route and the crazy pacing

Hi like always, I’m frenchgremlim, I’m the french kanna fan I write stupid essays on yttd from time to time, this one will be compared to some of my others quite negative. But I will try as hard as possible to be an objective critic. This isnt meant to attack any fan of any character no any fan of yttd 3-2, I just want to discuss a possible problem in yttd writing that personally scares me for the future, this topic was one I brought up a lot in many post, if you have seen any of them then well you will already know some of my grievances with chapter 3. So with all my love thank you for reading this, lets start!

THE GOOD STUFF

Chapter Three 1 definitely has many great points. First off, the plot progression is pretty great, we get ton of infos on asunaro, on ways to escape and clues about the hades incident. Midori was a blast and bullying him became my favorite pastime. The dummies were an amazing concept (remember the word concept it will be important for the rest). Despite me disliking ranmaru deepy his development was interresting. THE QTARO DEVELOPMENT WAS CRAZY GOOD, for the first time I got to be justified for being a qtaro fan since chapter 2. Keiji had ton of development in this chapter??? that is very rare considering how much of a stable character he is troughout the game, his relationship with sara is really highlighted and I think thats great. Gin stays the most consistent character in yttd and despite normally being something I dislike in a game I think it makes sense considering gin is pretty much sara anchor in reality in both routes. The obstructors were an amazing idea and I think, adding new mechanics like that truly freshen up the game. Also shin ai is litteraly one of the best idea ever and maple too. And of course the banquet was a thrilling nerve wrecking experience with so many twist and turns that truly got your blood pumping……. Thats my praise for chapter three, the thing that doesn’t make it outright bad but correct. See how I mentioned a few characters by name, but not all, you can pretty much count any of the other either barely present or useless to the narrative. Which will lead me to my first point, the absolute character waste that genuinely every single yttd character going from the least worst to the worst (if you know me you know who will be last).

AN ENSEMBLE CAST IS AN ENSEMBLE NOT SARA AND HER MINIONS NANKIDAI

MAI AND KURUMADA

okay so I will start with them because funny enough new characters have better characterization, than actual character we knew since chapter 1. If I had a word to describe both ami and kurumada it would be good but lacking. Let’s start with mai, I think mai concept of her starting has a sort of traitor and then becoming a true ally is very good, same for kurumada startinga s a heartless asshole only caring about himself to him literally on the ground crying that keiji doesn’t cause the doom of the other dummies. Overall Mai and Kurumada have the strongest character out of all the dumies and are truly multi layered characters. Mai is depicted as a fake idol like girl who hides herself behing the pop like smilling persona (inverse of shin) to hide the fact that she is terrified but can also be a cunning manipulative person too. She truly wants the best for others but is terrified that she might die and would do anything to survive. Kurumada is a brute, he acts like a bully toward the others, act heartless and values himself over others, he has a sort of superiority complex and rejects affection. But trough the power of the bucket, kurumada starts to warm up, and he starts truly caring about the others. He starts devaluing his life after getting destroyed by maple. But in the end he was the only one of the surviving dummies wishing not to be brought back but avenged. Both have interesting dynamic with their pairs and overall importance on the narrative, something that can’t be said about all dummies. Why lacking then. I think kurumada and mai still suffer from what I will call the dummies problem, they feel like there is so much like missed potential its crazy. Seriously we had like one scene where kurumada learns to warm up to kanna, thats it, it feels like we had the basics but it was very rushed. Which is a shame considering THIS IS THE THING THAT MAKES KURUMADA CHANGE AS A PERSON. Mai has less of this problem I think, but still she has no relationship with like anyone in the group except qtaro ( I still think in logic route we should have had the obvious parralele between her actions and like keiji/shin actions it feels like wasted potential) But again this is a flaw that is ommitable since reminder the characters are well written despite being rushed. What isnt forgivable is that kurumada has no relationship at all with shin in logic route, its clear that nankidai envisioned emotion route kurumada before logic route kurumada. Overall I think the pairing system was terribly done for some characters, which is apart of the overrall dummies syndrome.

But lets take a look at the other dummies where my praise will quickly end.

ANZU AND HAYASAKA:

I am deeply sorry for anyone who is a fan of those characters, but I need to be objective, anzu and hayasaka are the most nonexistent characters in yttd. I complain about the lack of kanna content, but the absolute uselessness of those two is crazy disappointing. Remember how I described mai and kurumada, full rich descriptions, what is anzu character. She is a dumb clown girl, thats it there is nothing more. And the problem isnt that she is a simple character on paper, because for example mishima is quite a simple character, its how nankidai decided to utilize them. Lets start with anzu because I think she shows off well the problem, what does anzu do during the narrative, when is she useful, not even like talking about like puzzles or stuff like that kanna also doesn’t help that much, I mean overrall, what is the goal of this character. A character can be a bit flater personaility wise but he has to HAVE A REASON TO EXIST EXCEPT FILLING IN THE BLANKS.

Why was she paired with the yabusames, because reminder all the dummies were paired with a human for a reason, sara with ranmaru because of joe, keiji and hinako because they are edgy emo dyed hair dodgy person, kurumada with greenbling because he has one of the highest percentages while they have some of the lowest, hayasaka because he is similar to mishima with gin. Anzu was paired up with the yabusame, because she had to be paired up with someone, she has NO relationship with them, isnt a contrast isnt anything. My problem with anzu is that she is a a boring character because they did NOTHING WITH HER, she feels like an C rated anime girl in the fucking cast of death note. And no I’m not saying a nice person is boring not at all kanna is my favourite character of fiction, what I’m saying Is that creating just a nice girl is a problem. If we go to hayasaka its the same, which is even worse because hayasaka IS TIED TO THE NARRATIVE. I would say haysaka is more plot interresting but his personality is so boring that it doesn’t help at all. He is just clone non chad mishima. They can die and it will genuinely almost affect nothing at all(which is also a problem the death problem). You get surprised when they actually talk because you had forgotten they existed. Thats how I will define the dummies problem, it feels like the characters were added but had very limited impact in the end, because while it makes sense for asunaro it doesn’t make sense for the cast, why add characters if they have no meaning, thats just bad writing.And why does that piss me off, because you could have done so much more. Remember the mishima comparaison? Mishima is the most good guy ever made but how does he shine, by his interractions, he is a light of joy and good and shines from how kind he is towards others. He’s a bit silly but his unwaring kindness and undertsanding is what makes him a compelling character. Especially I contrast with brooding characters in the cast. ANZU COULD HAVE BEEN THAT. I think especially in logic route, anzu isnt the brightest light bulb, but she can shine in her unwaring compassion, her passion is making others laugh as a clown. While she isnt the best and can sound awkard she tries her best for others, because thats whats right to do, despite how much she is scared. After keiji gets coffined, anzu goes to see keiji in the coffin and tries to cheer him up with the worst joke ever and it makes him truly laughs from how bad it is. Reko see nao painting and gets depressed about it,feeling like she was able to save nobody whether her brother or lover, anzu decides to show her some epic clown skills and absolutely fails, reko laughs finding the kiddo endearing. After alice discovers that midori had hanged out with reko, he wants to destroy him and get filled with rage but anzu tells him to do the breathing exercises she used to do before any performance. Anzu could be used as this idea of childlike kindness a little light in the dark of the group especially in logic route. She can still be a fail girl clown make her bicker with kurumada more, make her be so impressed by how calm mai is, make her despize ranmaru in logic route, make her a dumb kid with tehir cool aunt/uncle with the yabusames. MAKE HER EXIST. SAME FOR HAYASAKA, hayasaka is supposed to be a straight man type character make him even more of a loser, make him silently judge the crazy ass people he is with, do his development litteraly not Five minutes before his death. A character being simple isnt a problem, what is a problem is not using them to their fullest, and for me in the state that they are in currently anzu and hayasaka are bad characters in term of the narrative.

SHIN

Okay so shin isnt a character in chapter three, he’s just there, I’m putting that low because he is a main character. The problem with shin being a bot, is that we just left one of the craziest chapters for him to do nothing, I understand him being stunned by midori and stuff. But I still think this is quite a letdown, especially for the obvious parralels between him and maple almost never being utilized. You can tell nankidai didn’t have the time or want to do much with the guy, which is bonkers considering THIS IS THE CHAPTER WE MEET HIS ABUSER. Then why isnt shin lower? Because shin is the type of character to have development throughout the story, who has a continuous storyline etc, which means that even though he didn’t get anything special this chapter next chapter he will get it. Its not a case of actual waste of character ,its more so, putting the character in the drawer for now. I am not scared for shin writing because he will always get something and always had something. Which makes is non importance in chapter 3-1 not that bad

KANNA

OKAY SO I WILL TRY TO NOT BE BIASED. Kanna characterization disappointing me In 3-1. As the biggest kanna fan, I think nankidai doesn’t care that much about her character as an actual protagonist. This one will be a bit longer but to explain why it was bad I need to do some sidenotes.

Sara is the protagonist of yttd, and keiji and gin are deutarogonist (idk how its written forgive me I’m french, please tell me if its badly written). Sara throughout the story goes trough many changes and developments, while characters like gin and keiji stay pretty much the same the whole story before 3-1. Sara main development is her living with the grief of losing joe and her importance in the group. While keiji is this morally grey, in the end bad person because of his actions guy, that still deeply cares and wants the best for sara, but what he does for her like putting so much responsibility isnt good for her in the end, it creates this codependent dynamic where keiji wishes to protect sara but in the teaches her how to be like him despite him wishing the inverse. Is keiji a good influence? A bad one ? I would say a bad one, but does he care for her? He sures do, and would do anything to protect her. Why am I going a tangent you might say, because shin and kanna are the mirror to keiji and sara. They are in the end the same. Kanna is a direct parralel to sara story wise, which is why I think if the story was twisted the point of view would be either shin or kanna. Kanna is the emotional core of the game, the soul I would say even, her development has a character is the deepest and most complex. Going trough hell, wishing to die to then deciding to live not herself yet but for the people that loved her, Kanna went trough some of the worst events out of the cast, litteraly everyone she even remotely liked or was friends with dies. And yet she decided to stand, for them, for their wishes, that makes kanna the most emotionally strong character in all of yttd. Because compared to sara she had almost no help and was left to her suicidal tendencies. Kanna represents hope and bravery in its purest sense. Thats why kanna is the soul of yttd, she litteraly made shin realised that he could care about others again. But despite all of that kanna was always in the shadow of someone, lacking self worth and self confidence feeling the need to be protected by others, hiding behind shin schemes despite how dodgy they were. Shin was her shield, and now he is gone, and kanna has never been more alone than now. Two people died for her, she hates herself and wishes to go seem them deeply, but she has to stand up for them. And what do we get for chapter three!!!! One scene. Thats fucking it. Okay maybe a little bit more but like god its bad. Kanna is implied in one scene that she doesn’t understand why shin would sacrifice himself for her, which implies that she doesn’t understand that people could love her, which could imply that in general she doesn’t get why either kugie or shin did this for her. COOL ONE IMPLICATION. And like if you read the scene where she says that she will like be epic for them, its implied that kanna doesn’t feel better and is still very much suicidal she still hates herself, kanna doesn’t think she can live, but she has to survive for them. Kanna is implied to be in survival mode more than having hope to be outside. OKAY COOL.

Now I have a question, why does for kanna we have to acively search for her to have any actual development and like relevance, while for other character its more laid out. Why does sara get a scene where we see her change mentality after seeing the joe ai, while kanna GETS OFF SCREEN DEVELOPMENT. IF THERE IS ANYTHING I HATE ITS OFF SCREEN DEVELOPMENT. WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO GUESS A REASON A CHARACTER CHANGED. Plus kanna is a victim of this almost all the time, which is why people call her flat or not as interesting as shin (I heavily disagree I could write so many pages about her). Kanna is a character which is made in subtlety, which isnt a problem, what is a problem is that she is perhaps the only one. Kanna like I said is a very important character for both routes and yet she is barely treaten has a main protagonist, she is a sidekick, and thats a problem. Because of that her individuality and complexities are not explored. For example I think kanna has many many actual flaws that are barely treated in the narrative, she is far from a perfect kind person, but never tackled on. Kanna is a character that not only never gets a W but also get no breathing room. THIS IS THE FIRST CHAPTER KANNA IS MORE PROACTIVE AND YET WE DONT SEE HOW HER. Yes there is some things that show that, but again its not protagonist level of development, it feels like non important side character development for a character that shouldn’t be that. Kanna SHOULD be a protagonist of yttd, and should get finally her chance to shine instead of always being in someone shadow. I not making pessimistic claims right now since the last chapter isnt out, but I’m very much not hopeful about how nankidai will handle her #challengewriteafemalecharacterwiththesamerespecthasamaleone.

ALICE AND REKO

I Have already written many post about this, but post chapter 2-1, Nankidai had no idea what to do with yabusames, they havent had any actual interresting impact except from lore in any chapter. They become background character especially after nao death. Despite being actual game changing choice, alice and reko are useless to the narrative. WHY? Because nankidai had decided to get them killed by sheep boy, and since nankidai clearly wrote emotion route before logic route, in emotion route he had no idea what to do with them so the became npc’s. Alice relaionship with cast has not evolved from chapter 1, and reko became just one of sara goons. I think this ties into another problem, the emotion route problem, what should make emotion route compelling the character which is supposed to represent it, kanna and the emotion route based choices, but since kanna and the other yabusame gets zero content, emotion route seems like the least interesting route. Because nankidai was more lazy doing it which is a clear problem. That affects the yabusame heavily, sicne he had no plans with them past death. Thats why they are static. Its also linked to another problem which I will mention later. But yes nankidai simply doesn’t know what to do with them, which is especially worst for alice a character that is LINKED TO THE ENTIRE CHAPTER. I think its not only a waste of alice and reko, but also a sign of favoritism. I think nankidai simply cares less about complex ideas for emotion route, I will perhaps write in another post all he could have written interesting for emotion route. Now lets get into THE REAL STINKER OF THE CHAPTER.

NAO EGOKORO: HOW TO MESS UP THE MESSAGE OF CHARACTER

What. The. Actual.shit. I have no words except from that. This out of every charcater bothers me probably the most and actively pisses me off. Imagine writing a character, a female character who was shown as capable and strong despite being an emotional person, imagine creating a character which showed the defiance of asunaro, the fact that yes despite their overwhelming sense of control and power, that there was in fact a way to beat them at their games, imagine writing a character that fought against adversity and had the only canonical route where despite all their wishes that character won, imagine creating a character with a doomed fate which is in direct parallel to another character and shows why he somewhat has the right to be scarred, imagine writing a tragic story about a girl who was only brought here to suffer and be a tool for the progression of A MAN in the canonical narrative, imagine writing a character who entire existence was a tool for asunaro and died because of them, imagine writing that the floormasters consider her useless and non important because she isnt some holy participants, imagine writing that. Okay so imagine that after this poignant ending you decide to do another chapter where you mention her 1 time in a non essential dialogue. THIS IS INSULTING. Because what this honestly says is that, yes nao life truly was unimportant, we get references to greenbling death in the chapter, NAO DIED LIKE THREE HOURS AGO. THIS MESSES UP THE ENTIRE MESSAGE.

This feels like nao was some kind of rug, that when not needed could be trhown out, was her death just shock value, was that the goal of her character. I wanna remind that yes nao was only brought to boost mishima percentages, which mean she was only a tool for another man progression. THERE IS SO MUCH META POSSIBLE COMMENTARY ON THIS. Asunaro who uses children and women as toys for their own goals, that they will throw out when not needed. But instead the fact that nao was completely forgotten just deepens this idea that yes in fact they were right, she was unimportant, and thst deeply isulting I think. Why does every chapter mishima comes back while we get no mention of nao. Why is there a clear focus in this game about more stereo typically strong stoic figures, isn't this entire game about the conflict between emotion and logic. Why does characters like kanna and nao representations of the conflict get zero content. Characters like kanna and nao MATTER, they are perhaps some of the only representation of empowerment that people like me can relate. Because I will be truthful, logic route is in fact not the good choice, not in narrative standpoint (logic route is awesome for the narrative for sure), in a moral standpoint, its an extremely good idea of course. But the message of the game is that in the end its wrong, it’s a wrong choice to act or pretend to be an emotionless logic based robot, keiji is in the wrong, shin is in the wrong, midori is in the wrong. Whats the point of a moral dilemma if you don’t talk about it from one side. THEN WHY DOES THE CHARACTERS THAT REPRESENT THE INVERSE GET ZERO CONTENT. I think nao disappearance is not only one of the most disappointing things in all of yttd but genuinely gets me scared for the future of yttd themes.

Now that we finished every character, you may wonder, why, why is this chapter characterization so bad? What even happened? Ill tell you what happened, there is two reason everything went to shit and let me list it here:

THE SARA PROBLEM OR WHY THIS CHAPTER PLOT FOCUS IS ASS .

YTTD chapter three was way more plot focused than any of the chapters I would say, and honestly thats great for the narrative, if only it was done well. Remember my speeches about the characters about how like 60% of the cast is useless to the narrative, characters we know since a while, why do characters have no development, why does the dummies gets jack shit to do etc. Thats because of one thing, this chapter prioritized PLOT over CHARACTERS. And how can I claim this, because most scenes are sara and her doing everything. This chapter wasn't really about her, at all even, yet we have focused more on her reactions to the events that literally any characters. Chapter three at least half of it shouldn't have been sara focused. You might say what are you on about french? I’m gonna explain. I wanna state some example to show my point clearer, the reveal of why non candidates were brought here, why, in the flipping heck is sara the charcter in particular they choose to only know that, to have the big emotional scene, why especially in logic route, why?????? Yes she knew nao, sure thing, yeah she knew kai, but she wasn't the only person that knew them, sara didn’t even like mention nao almost the whole chapter, you want me to buy some emotional ass scene, for a charcter you barely even cared about showing in the narrative. I could think of a million characters who knwing this would flip out and have ACTUAL CHARACTER MOMENTS (kanna, reko, shin when he would learn that they brought kugie only to die which in the end CAUSED KANNA TO BECOME SUICIDAL AND DECIDE TO KILL HERSELF, GIN).

Another example the final scene where sara presses the button to get rid of midori that scene feels so empty, it doesn’t feel like a revenge or anything, midori has no emotional connection or link to sara, it doesn’t feel deserved, why out of everyone of the cast, why is midori getting killed by the person who he hurted the least. It feels like yeah sara the protag so she has to do it, it doesn’t feel cathartic because the characters that deserved the most to get this final bow didn’t get to get it. IM PRETTY SURE ANYONE IN THE ROOM COULD HAVE PRESSED THE BUTTON AND IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE EMOTIONALLY DRIVEN. I wanna discuss emotion route sara in particular, sara isnt as interresting as before in emotion route, since now she is healing and is closing her arc, which means that compared to logic route you don’t really have this want to see her arc which make scenes that should have been about other characters feel even more flat. I am not saying we should stop having sara as a protag no no of course, my problem is that we have seen that sara can work as the protag while focusing on other characters drama.

Example chapter 2-1, in 2-1 the focus is on reko and alice, and yet sara still has conflicts for herself, but they don’t seem to overpower the narrative. This intense sara focus destroyed the other characters screen time, and caused a lot of scenes that should hav been more impact to be less impact. Sara story in emotion route should have been the keiji stuff an ranmaru stuff mainly(and the whole logic route sara becoming crazy stuff too), the whole conflict with midori just felt like it was created only for the narrative. NOW I CAN FINNALY COME TO MY POINT. The sara focus was because yttd decided to focus more on the plot progression that character driven story, thats why sara does everything, thats why the characters have overall less to do. And imma be honest I did not come for yttd for the plot, people love yttd because of THE CHARACTERS, why do people play logic route, because they want to see shin evolve and sara too, why do people save kanna to fullfill shin wishes and save a kid they care for, what most people play yttd for is not the plot. YTTD IS A CHARACTERS DRIVEN STORY, characters not character. I genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about the plot if the characters are non existant, a bad plot can be carried by good characters, but a good plot will never carry bad characters. I know we are getting closer to the end, but yttd always had that balance between action and character moments. But I don’t think its only the direction of the story that is faulty. ITS the:

PACING

YTTD CHAPTER THREE PACING, wow we met this new guy midori, WTF REKO DEAD, anyway who cares lets move on. Thats it thats the pacing. THE CHAPTER IS WA TOO FAST. We go trough plot points so quiclky, we randmoly see reko/alice die then nothing, they don’t exist anymore, characters the cast know since the beginning, again for the dummies its logical, in a way, they don’t really know them, plus they are robots. RANDOM AHH REVEAL KANNA AND SHIN ARE ACTUAL SIBLINGS THEN NOTHING, NO MENTION, NO ACTUAL IMPORTANCE TO THE ROUTE, this only felt like this was added in for plot for logic route so that we know in advance that shin and kanna are siblings. The dummies just die at the end of the chapter in five minutes, qtaro dies in five minutes then the chapter ends. How do you want us to feel emotional weight for a character dying if you give us no time, joe death is one of the most viceral death because its slow and painful to watch, while if he died in chpater three he would have just exploed for shock value. Shock value thats how reko and alice death felt like, just that. Sara figuring out the whole participant thing, shock value thats it. The pacing is just horrible in this chapter so much so that I had actually forgotten kanna and shin were revealed to be siblings at the end of my first playtrough

CONCLUSION

I don’t think chapter three was bad per say, half of it was amazing truly, but the other half was incredibly disappointing, the whack characterization, the horrible plot focus and the pacing are terrible. Emotion route suffered the most because of this and I think on an objective standpoint is the worst written route (i’m the biggest emotion route glazer but like I can’t lie on how bad nankidai fumbled). I still love yttd and am full of hope that chapter three two will be the most amazing thing ever made, but I am scared of dissapointement now, I hope nankidai comes back to his roots wirting like chapter 2. If you like loved chapter 3-1 then honestly I wish I was you, I don’t like being dissapointed, I don’t like being let down, I am not critiquing from a place of hatred but from a very passionate fan, I know my opinion is pehaps not one of the most shared but as a fan of yttd for so many years I think we need to open our eyes to flaws. Perhap chapter 3-2 will fix everything I say and I hope so, I hope this post becomes outdated, but if it doesn’t then it would in my eyes truly ruin yttd. It won’t change chapter 2-2 changed my life and that kanna kizuchi saved me from a lot of dark times.I love yttd and i belive in nankidai and that why as a fan we shoudl critic his work

[gffa]

I made the mistake, after episode 7 of the acolyte, to look through the tags (I’ve given up on Reddit for sw discourse lol) and there are so many bad takes out there. It’s like people watched a different episode. I’m glad there are some good meta takes from people like you, or I’d be lost! I think nuance is dead in fandom and people just can’t see things as more than “Jedi Bad!” When there’s so much more nuance than that. Were the Jedi perfect? No! Of course not. That would be so boring. If all Jedi were always perfect, SW would be dull. It’s because they aren’t perfect that they are so compelling. That they try to do the right thing, even if it doesn’t always work out.

A quote that came to mind by Teddy Roosevelt: “It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Anyways, thanks for your continued good meta and cultivating a nice pro-Jedi space!

Hi! I hear you, it can be tough going into the tags sometimes (and I've given up on both Reddit and Twitter for any kind of discussion, I just do not have the time/energy for that when sometimes I still have to fight for my life on Tumblr) but I will say that the best remedy I have for that is to start posting the content you want to see! It's so satisfying to write down your thoughts just to have fun in your own space, I don't need other people nearly so much because I'm having a great time just making myself laugh or cry over my faves or nerding out over worldbuilding. It's a bonus that I've collected a bunch of really great people around me, both ones I vibe with and ones who are chill when our vibes don't match and we disagree on stuff. I've been having an absolute joy of a time after episode 7 of The Acolyte because I've seen some great posts, I've had some hilarious conversations, etc. And part of that is just. Letting go of a lot of fandom. I'm a lot more relaxed about the Star Wars media I consume because it's not Lucas' Star Wars, I can take or leave it as I will and, most importantly, I don't need the Jedi to be perfect to be good. So much of my need for the Jedi to be perfect once upon a time came from that any little mistake they made, ones that were completely reasonable, ones that were simply just "didn't solve everyone's problems instantly", ones that were present in other characters who were allowed to just be instead of being raked over the coals for it, and how fandom would use those as a bludgeon against the Jedi. And that wasn't fun! So, instead, yeah, the Jedi are flawed, because any character ever is allowed to be flawed. The most cinnamon roll character ever is flawed and that's okay. Luke Skywalker is flawed. Padme Amidala is flawed. Bail Organa is flawed. Yoda is flawed. Obi-Wan Kenobi is flawed. Mace Windu is flawed. Ahsoka Tano is flawed. Leia Organa is flawed. Han Solo is flawed. Lando Calrissian is flawed. Ezra Bridger is flawed. Kanan Jarrus is flawed. Hera Syndulla is flawed. And on and on and on. If those characters can have flaws and be seen as good, well, then that's how I'm going to proceed with my Jedi faves, too. Oh, Mace wasn't bending over backwards to smile and be soft when he was having the worst day ever? That's what you're bringing me to show that he was bad actually? Babe, please, Luke started out as whiny and annoying and he's amazing, so Mace is amazing, too. The Jedi were in a no-win situation, not fighting would mean people would die, fighting meant compromising themselves, they had to make a choice, there was no third way out, there was no secret magical answer in Star Wars, so they did what they could to the best of their ability. And it's not on them to fix everything in the galaxy, they're peace-keepers who were drafted into a war, they're not the whole of the government, they're not there to be social service agents, that's not who they are or what they're equipped for. And yet they still tried to help whenever they could. Everyone fucks up sometimes and that's okay, it doesn't suddenly mean they're the real villain all along, because otherwise they would have to be literally be perfect to be "good" and that's just bad writing imo. Ultimately, just take a break from scrolling through the tags if you can and join me in writing your own stuff, it's hard at first to get the words to come out the way you want them to, but with some time and energy put into it, I've found it to be so much more rewarding. <3

[el-smacko]

I’ve been rewatching Hbomb’s James Somerton video and I remember seeing someone say—and snidely remarking to myself that it had to be said—that we shouldn’t talk about Somerton’s appearance when we’re critical of him.

I finally realized that I agreed with the spirit of that—calling people outwardly ugly for being inwardly ugly is, in a word, problematic—but I’m not calling him ugly.

Like Donald Trump, Somerton would probably look fine if he could take well-meaning criticism or had a coherent artistic sense that wasn’t entirely stolen.

In 2016, my mother pointed out the Emperor’s New Clothes about Trump’s fugly appearance either vapidly critiqued or pointedly ignored by liberal media. We’re supposed to believe this man’s wealth isn’t entirely derived from a brand built by someone else but… he’s just fundamentally not curious and looks like absolute shit constantly because he doesn’t create an open and honest environment with even his closest associates.

Trump LOOKS like he’s easily manipulated. The only way you could look like THAT is if you specifically rewarded the sycophants willing to compliment your worst impulses so you persist in your many, many ignorances.

So yeah, Somerton wouldn’t wear those turtlenecks and that style of glasses if anyone felt comfortable enough to talk to him about it, and I will die on the hill of saying appearance can be revealing if you aren’t being petty, which, to be clear, I also am.

Man thought he was an authority on gay culture. Okay.

[coquettemouse]

Breakfast

The kitchen was already alive with the smell of oatmeal cooking on the stove when Jason walked in, carrying a sleepy-eyed Sofia on his hip. Her head lolled against his shoulder, but as soon as she caught sight of the high chair, she perked up.

“Up, Daddy!” she commanded, pointing at the chair like a queen giving orders to her loyal subject.

“Your Highness,” Jason said with a mock bow, settling her down carefully. Her feet swung back and forth, thumping lightly against the base of the chair. He tucked a stray braid behind her ear, and she gave him a lopsided, toothless grin.

“What’s on the menu today?” she asked, puffing out her chest like a food critic ready to give a harsh review.

“Oatmeal with berries and ‘the crunchy stuff,’” Jason announced, waving a wooden spoon for emphasis. “Only the finest for my princess.”

“Good,” she said seriously. “But no weird green stuff.”

“Who do you take me for?” he scoffed, pouring oats into a pot. “Some kind of spinach wizard?”

She giggled, and he felt the corners of his lips pulling up. As the oats bubbled on the stove, Jason tossed in a dash of cinnamon, stirred, and then turned to face her. She was trying to grab at an invisible something above her head, small fingers stretching.

“What’re you doing, Sofi?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Catchin’ fairies!” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They always try to steal my crunchy stuff. It’s their favorite.”

Jason grinned as he stirred the oatmeal. “Well, those sneaky fairies better watch out because I’m putting extra crunchies today.”

Sofia gasped, eyes wide. “Extra? They’re gonna go bonkers!”

With a dramatic flourish, Jason scooped the oatmeal into a small bowl, added a handful of strawberries and blueberries, then sprinkled granola over the top. He brought it to her like a prized offering. “Here it is—the one and only anti-fairy oatmeal deluxe.”

“Thanks, daddy!” She grabbed the spoon and dug in, but not before giving the bowl a serious look. “No fairies allowed,” she whispered to it, then took a big bite. Her eyes lit up. “Mmm! It’s crunchy!”

“I told you,” Jason said, leaning against the counter with his own burnt toast. “The kitchen elves helped out.”

“Not elves again!” Sofia groaned between bites. “They’re always leavin’ their crumbs everywhere.”

Jason nodded gravely. “The worst. Absolute crumb bandits.”

Suddenly gggles echoed through the hallway, bouncing off the walls. Jimena burst into the kitchen, hair flying in all directions, her laughter coming in breathless gasps. Hot on her heels was Leo, a grin plastered across his face. Keeping his pace slower than her.

“You’re too fast!” Leo exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he came to a dramatic halt beside the table, pretending to be out of breath. He bent over, resting one arm on the tabletop for effect. Jimena skidded to a stop, still giggling, and tiptoed back toward him, eyes bright with mischief.

“Gotcha!” she declared, poking his shoulder. It was exactly what Leo was waiting for. He lunged, wrapping his arm around her waist and lifting her up, her legs kicking wildly as she squealed.

“No!!” Jimena shrieked between bursts of laughter, squirming in his grip. “Dad! Dad! Help me!”

Jason, who had been watching from the counter with a faint smile as he sipped his coffee, raised an eyebrow. “Oh no, a damsel in distress! What should I do?”

Jimena pointed at him, barely able to get words out through her giggles. “Save me, Dad!”

Jason set down his mug with deliberate slowness, like he was considering a life-or-death mission. “All right, hero mode it is.” He walked toward them, his frame casting a playful shadow over them. “Leo, prepare for battle.”

Leo held Jimena a bit higher, shifting her like a human shield. “You’ll have to go through me first!” he declared, mock-seriousness in his voice.

“Dad!” Jimena wheezed, caught between laughing and catching her breath. “Don’t let him win!”

“Never.” Jason moved, hands darting out to tickle Leo’s sides. Leo yelped, losing his grip just enough for Jimena to wiggle free and land on her feet, victorious.

“Ha! We got you!” she crowed, pointing at Leo while clutching her sides.

Leo, feigning defeat, sank dramatically onto a chair. “Betrayed by my own daughter and out-tickled by my husband. Is there no honor left in this world?”

Sofia, still munching on the last bit of her oatmeal, chimed in with all the wisdom of a five-year-old. “You shouldn’t mess with dad,” she said seriously, a bit of granola sticking to her cheek. “He’s a hero.”

[sinelanguage]

32. bodyswap

The Grand Line is a mysterious place; Usopp really shouldn’t be surprised when he wakes up feeling out of sorts. He’s woken up in weirder ways than having an empty, ravenous appetite; this is nothing. He must’ve eaten something weird the night before, leaving his stomach an empty, bottomless pit. Perfectly fine.

Usopp tries to pick himself up out of his hammock, and his foot doesn’t hit the ground. That’s weird; his hammock is closest to the ground. He stretches a bit more, then a bit more, and still, nothing. 

Then, Usopp stretches out way too far, way farther than should be physically possible, until his foot hits the floor. His leg feels like absolute jello. His heart rackets in his chest. 

That’s not fine. 

His chin warbling, he looks over the edge of his hammock until he sees one long leg stretching all the way from the top bunk down to the floor. 

“Luffy,” he says. Luffy’s voice comes out of his mouth. Oh, no. “Luffy, what did you do?!”

“Eh, what do you mean, what did I do?” That’s not Luffy’s voice; that’s not even his own voice. “I’m– wait, woah! Why am I so tiny?! Why do I sound so weird?!”

“Hey, Chopper, quit freaking out,” comes Usopp’s own voice. “Wait– what? Why do I sound like Usopp?”

There’s a loud thunk; Usopp watches in horror as his own body hits the floor. Usopp’s body picks himself up off the ground, shoves his hands in his pockets, and peers around the room with a critical derision that looks alien on his face. 

“What the hell?” he asks. “Usopp, you shithead, what did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Usopp yells, his voice still sounding like Luffy. “Who are you?! Is that you, Sanji?!”

“How curious. The Grand Line is a mysterious place, isn’t it?” says Zoro, sounding way too damn calm for Zoro. Who the hell is he swapped with? “It seems like we’ve all swapped bodies.”

The noise the crew makes is as loud as it is confusing. 

By the time they all get out of bed and onto the deck, Zoro– well, Robin, who swapped with Zoro– explains that they must’ve passed by some mysterious mist that swapped them all around, just like an old story she read. She assured them that they would all be fine, they just needed to wait it out until the effect faded. 

If only it were that simple. 

Instead, the entire crew is caught in the mess of being swapped with each other. Chopper-as-Sanji tries to chase down and lecture Sanji-as-Usopp down for his clear and obvious nicotine withdrawal symptoms, Nami-as-Robin sprouts way too many limbs all at once and almost turns the Merry over, and Luffy-as-Chopper tries to steal Chopper’s rumble balls while he’s otherwise occupied. 

Usopp tries, he really tries to grab Luffy before he grabs the rumble balls, but his arms refuse to listen. They stretch out like limp snakes, his fingers wiggling on the deck helplessly. 

“This is the worst,” Usopp complains. He tries to bring Luffy’s arm back to him but he manages to get it stuck, looped around the mast. “How long did Robin say this would last?!”

“I don’t know what you’re all complaining about, this is great!” Robin– well, Nami– says. She’s using several of Robin’s arms to unfurl the sails and steer the ship, gleeful as she sits perched on the top deck. “I don’t need any of you to steer the ship now!”

“Oh great, then you can just boss Robin around instead of us next time,” says Zoro-as-Nami. 

“What, so you can just laze around all day?! Oh, right, that's what you already do!” Nami-as-Robin counters, trying to hit Zoro in the face. She miscalculates, uses the wrong arm, and hits herself in the back of her head. “Ow ow ow! Oh, this is all your fault, Zoro! I can’t believe you’re stuck in my body!”

“Hey! I don’t like it any more than you do!”

There's a low whine on deck, like the sound of a tea kettle.

“Shut up! You should be glad you swapped with Nami-san, you– you shitty- you-” Zoro-as-Nami turns to face Sanji-as-Usopp, and Sanji's face contorts through a series of rapid emotions before settling on abject horror. “I can’t even yell at you like this!”

“This is a disaster,” Usopp mutters, watching Sanji’s ongoing breakdown. “At least everything is somewhat under control now.”

Robin-as-Zoro is the only sane one, Usopp decides. Everyone else is a weck.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. If we run into any trouble, none of us will be able to fight, will we?” says Zoro– no, says Robin. She smiles, and it looks absolutely horrifying on Zoro’s face. “What an interesting way to go.”

Usopp turns to face her. Robin-as-Zoro smiles at him sweetly again, as sweet as a deadly poison.

No, he’s changed his mind. This is a disaster for absolutely everyone involved; they’re going to be lucky to make it the next hour, much less the next day. They’re all going to die. 

[eowynstwin]

I'm almost done. I have this and maybe one or two other things to talk about. After that, I'm going to respond to the rest of the messages I received (some weren't questions, they were just offering support, so i'm saving them for last). After that, I'm going to wrap this subject up and put it away, and get on to having fun again.

I've talked about what happened back then; here's what's happening now.

When I came back, I immediately got an anonymous message criticizing me for...I honestly don't understand what. It feels like an entry into a conversation I was never a part of.

(I found out later that a lot of Myka’s sock puppets complained often about how the fandom “sexualizes” military characters that she personally finds to be far too complex for garden-variety smut. I’m guessing this is her attempt to validate that feeling by making it about race. It’s very weird and poorly done. So, it’s on brand for her.)

In the following months, I've occasionally gotten anonymous messages along that line. Any time I shared any sort of hot take, there would be someone in my inbox clapping back.

I have no doubt it's Myka. I'm very sure she's paying close attention to this blog, saving anything she thinks she can use against me later. She's already demonstrated the lengths to which she's willing to go for revenge and attention.

I usually block and delete. However, the day I went on hiatus—and indicated that my mental health was not well—I received this message.

She was waiting. I know it in my bones. I’ve had a couple of public breakdowns on this blog since I came back, and I have absolutely no doubt that she was waiting, and watching, and figuring out the exact right thing to say to me the next time she saw an opportunity.

I know this, because this one met its mark. I was in the middle of one of the worst episodes I’ve had in a while. The moment I read this message, I agreed with her.

So congratulations, Myka, you finally got back at me. All your waiting paid off. For one brief moment, we agreed with each other.

Small problem for you, though. I’m still fucking here. And because of everything you did, you can never, ever show your face in this community again.

[utilitycaster]

Hi! Hope you don’t mind me asking but, I’ve seen you comment about a “fjord moon” theory every so often in your tags, and I’m quite curious what’s it about? I don’t think I’ve ever heard about it, is it something more prevalent in twitter spaces?

It started in Reddit spaces but it had a moment within the fandom at large during Campaign 2, especially after a YouTube video surfaced shortly after the campaign had come back from hiatus in August 2020. It hasn't come up lately since Campaign 3's plot pretty thoroughly debunked it, which wasn't necessary for reasons I will cover below.

I talked about how stupid it was at the time, and will do so again but I don't feel like looking back through my archives to find that post, so: the idea was that Fjord was from Ruidus. I call it a theory because its creators called it a theory but it was really just a lot of incoherent yelling that unfortunately happened to fall into the hands of a prolific and popular but talentless video maker and was boosted by a prolific and popular but deeply stupid figure on CR Twitter.

You can read it here but in short he basis was that Fjord was actually a Spelljammer Space Orc (Scro; yes this is just Orcs backwards; Spelljammer is not exactly the most brilliant of concepts) because he was intelligent and walked upright, ignoring that Spelljammer was, at the time, from D&D 2e only which can generously be described as "wicked racist in the depiction of orcs". Not that 5e is not without its foibles, but it had largely 86-ed the worst of the racism that pervaded earlier orc depictions. Also Garthok pre-dated Fjord and was a half-orc with the same intelligence, but what are facts to an idiot. So anyway this guy working off a deeply racist older concept for orcs spun this into a wild conspiracy theory involving the fact that Travis likes Dragonball Z; something about the film Spaceballs (as far as I know Travis has said absolutely nothing about this, this is just that the Mel Brooks Star Wars parody and my personal childhood favorite Spaceballs exists I think?) and various other random pulls from science fiction media. This guy asked a question at a panel and mistook the cast looking at him like he had lost the plot as a sign he was onto something. Somehow, people listened to him.

Here's the thing about theorycraft. It is more important, in writing a theory, that you base it on evidence than that you get it correct. Any dipshit can guess and any lucky dipshit can guess correctly, but if you show that you can't structure an argument for beans, anyone who can structure an argument for beans will rightfully look at you and say "well, they predicted something once, but that's a fucking fluke because they're a fucking joke." Theories should explain something that needs explanation (Fjord having an INT of 14 and the name Fjord and being an orphan does not). They should not solely rest on things the cast likes or things that merely exist in-world and certainly not from Spaceballs and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, the connection of which to Critical Role in that Reddit post is not explained, ever.

To give some examples of good, mediocre, and bad but at least not nearly that bad theorycraft: the theory that Ashton was a meteor that was around early in C3 is in my mind not very good, but at least it fits within Exandria canon and explained something about Ashton needing explanation at the time. The theory that The Emissary is the source of the stasis bubbles is in my mind a very good one explaining several key mysteries (source of stasis bubbles; why Erathis sent him rather than coming himself). The theory that Bor'Dor was a dog was fucking stupid and made no sense nor did it explain anything that needed explanation (and also wildly misjudged how border collies behave) but did at least not say "also, the TV show Lassie...exists in our reality, and this is evidence" The Fjord Moon Theory is maybe the stupidest and worst CR theory I've seen in my entire life, and it's up there for fandom theories over all. I get that it was August 2020 and I don't begrudge people who were very bored and scared from joking about it while not taking it seriously, but I do begrudge those who did take it seriously because like, come on.

Anyway, I bring it up in tags sometimes because many of the worst C3 takes on Twitter that make it to me via "can you fucking believe this" screenshots in the groupchat are either started or propagated by Former Moon Theory People.