#I'm also still living with my parents despite my age

[annawayne]

Hi, Anna! I was wondering for some small opinion and possibly suggestions to do with AruAni, mainly their names! In my opinion, I like to imagine Annie's name is actually "Annabelle", though she's never said it to anyone, ever, having the name everyone is more used to be the one that everyone calls her. Though, it would be fun if she slipped up and then have Armin, the adorable nuisance he is, start calling her Anaya, Arianna, etc - as he tries figuring out her full name. Bit silly, but fun stuff! And I was wondering, if you ever had thought of that, or the possibility of them having middle names, since I don't believe many have spoken about that and you're very creative when it comes to that! Have a lovely day, Toodle-oo!

Hello-hello!~

Oh, thank you a lot for asking this! I'm a huge fan of the whole name topic in general, and I think it's a significant topic for such characters as Armin and Annie. I can tell that I'll touch on this topic a bit in the next MYLYSW chapter with my attempts to explore Annie's past in Liberio, so you just HIT ✨the spot✨

I adore the exploration of all of it, so let's begin!

First of all, I want to say that despite everything, I really love the way both Annie Leonhardt and Armin Arlert sound: Annie's full name sounds, first, like a sigh, with the double ringing 'n,' only to flow into quite firm combinations of sounds, with the same respite right in the middle; Armin's name gives me a very metallic sound with a harsh and resonating tune.

I really love how their names sing, and we can explore many of their meanings. However, I want to focus more on the origins - not the meaning and roots of their names, but how they were given and what they meant for them.

We know that Armin's name is given by his grandfather. However, it's also quite an interesting moment for me since parents usually give the name to a child, and his parents disappeared much later when Armin wasn't a newborn. Probably, it's more like Grandpa Arlert was there from the very early time of Armin's childhood, and so he has this honor to give a name for his grandson (we skip here a theory that Armin was an unwanted child who was more of an "accident" rather a desired and planned child, who "stole" from his parents their dreams to fly away - it's a big topic and theory, and I would love to focus on other aspects this time since otherwise it would lead into long essay).

So, Armin, despite losing all his family at a very young age, has a personal connection to his name - he knows that this name wasn't an "accident" or "casually thrown" into him like a label. This name has old Germanic, Latin, and Persian roots, "a Warrior," "a Fighter," and also "goal" and "universal," which all fall into Armin's life path - he fights for the right to appreciate the whole world, even if it's not the one he has read in his book. However, with time, I think he starts to hate this name as his self-hatred grows as well, associating this combination of letters with the downfall and problems (in his opinion) he has caused since often his name was screamed in anguish and fear, or despair. Still, Armin, despite anything, knows his real name, which he learns to embrace and live up to. He knows this name is given with the love and warmth of his grandpa.

But what about Annie? We know that she was found by Mr Leonhardt on the street near the rich-looking mansion and that she has a biological Marleayn mother and Eldian father. Then, she was adopted by Mr Leonhardt (it's also interesting that we don't have any name for him throughout the whole series, which also gives me several ideas, but it's also for another time). Probably, Mr Leonhardt gave her this name by the logic "it sounds simple and doesn't show any relation to her possible noble blood by mother's line", which gives me an actual idea, based on your ask: what if Annie's name, given by her biological parents, was indeed something like Annabelle, Annette or Annalise (or any other form), which sounds more like "noble," rather than Annie, which directly shows her relation to some high-class Marleyan society?

We have not to forget that Marley - is an empire. Any empire does everything to erase any relations to the authentic roots of the people it colonized, and changing names/surnames - is one of these very well-known practices, since when you took the name from a person, you also took the part of their identity and ethnical background to make the person "fit" within the empire as their own, and yet, this is only to play a role of "generosity," when in reality people from colonized territories always won't be equal - the citizens of any metropole look down at them.

I think this happened to Mr. Leonhardt, who in reality isn't Mr. Leonhardt at all but was given this very Germanic surname, which aligns pretty much well with Marleyan traditions. So, the same might probably happen to Annie - maybe when he found her, there was a small card or note with her full name, but when he read "Annabelle/ Annette/Annalise" (or anything similar), he decided that with this name she wouldn't survive in the internment zone with such "noble" name, and simplified it to "Annie," both as an act of erasing any roots for her to start questioning her background and also of an act of owning - just like the empire did to him when he was shipped to internment zone. Just like Edward Said in one of his works, "There is nothing mysterious or natural about authority. It is formed, irradiated, disseminated; it is instrumental, it is persuasive; it has status; it establishes canons of taste and value; it is virtually indistinguishable from certain ideas it dignifies as true and from traditions, perceptions, and judgments it forms, transmits, reproduces."

There's really nothing mysterious. A plain act of cutting the roots, replacing it with himself - no wonder that Annie, on the day of her departure to Paradis, felt such a strong connection with the words her father said to her. It was not only a first showcase of care and love (which I highly doubt of its genuinity, and I don't think any of these words were towards Annie, but only to whitewash his ego), but also the attempt to keep her in his claws - like any empire does to its colonies by erasing everything and replacing with what is comfortable and needed for it to make it looks like the colony is incapable of living without it. I honestly have no questions why for Annie it was all her sole goal - to return to him. I swear, I will always defend Annie and try to highlight the whole complexity of her character.

So, I think, if it really happened at some point in history, then, after the Rumbling, when everything settles down a bit, Mr . Leonhardt confesses that Annie's full name is different (personally, if you would ask me, I really love Annette). For her, it's a huge shock because she realizes where it comes from.

I think it becomes a pretty sensitive topic for her - she would immediately dismiss it, however, she would understand with time passing that this name is hers and isn't hers at the same time since she has no association, no history with it, no attachments, and it also provokes some inner conflict she tries to ignore.

But Armin would notice, and eventually, she would tell him, however, it takes a long time, firstly, for Annie to embrace it as a part of her she has never known, but it's the only thing her parents left for her, aside her birth, and even longer - for Annie accepting it as an alternative - not a replacement - to her name.

I think Armin would be cautious with this, and the first time he calls Annie "Nettie", she would be a bit in shock - but more of the fact that this part of her is also loved and embraced by him. It would never replace Annie from his lips, the way she knows how he sighs it and how his tongue pushes this double "n" in her name only to string it with the mellow tune of "e," but she thinks that "Nettie" also deserves some love - the one Annette never had, denied almost immediately after her birth, but, maybe with him, Annette could learn it, too.

As for the middle names, I'm familiar with them, of course, but this concept is so rare in my country that this whole thing just doesn't appear too much in my head. But we instead have patronyms, and I also thought of all of it, and it just makes me quite sad since if Armin and Annie had patronyms tradition, it would remind them so much of their fathers... Who, well, let's be honest, both left quite a lot of angst in their lives, even if in different ways.

Oh, well... maybe you expected another answer and a more fluffy one, but sorry, I went into the angsty depths of some meta and headcanons :D

If anyone reached the end, thank you so much! I appreciate your time spent on it!

Thank you once again for asking, I enjoyed answering it a lot!

Have a wonderful *timezone* (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

[gaymers-and-froggers]

"you would tell me if something was wrong, right?"

No I wouldn't, I told you that I have tried to kill myself and yet when I started councilling you only told me to talk about my sexuality. You have repeatedly taken away my only safe spaces because I talked about my actual issues and I can't trust you about these things anymore

[pedgito]

𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part ii)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | The temptation with Joel is unavoidable, one consequential choice leading to several, but with time, you find that healing is easier with someone just as broken as you.

author's note | I DID NOT FORGET THEM I SWEAR. i know the first part was posted in july and i abandoned my baby i'm horrible. BUT, the writing bug is back in full force and this chapter was already halfway done so PLEASE ENJOY. i missed these two dearly.

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma, no one's making good choices here, lowkey religion kink?? if you get it, you get. fingering, unprotected piv sex, semi-public sex, mentions of deconstruction, alcohol tw, this is packed with so much stuff i'm sorry

word count —11k

PART ONE, PART THREE (tbd)

The tweed sweater is more grating than the sound of your mother’s voice as you approach the doorstep of the Miller’s home. It’s fucking itchy, scratching at your neck in desperation to strip yourself of your more modest church clothes the moment you crosses the threshold. Your mother seems to notice your fidgeting, swatting at your hand with a look of unmistaken warning.

Cut it out. 

Your hand drops to your side, fingers curling into your palm as they dig into the skin. The pain squeezes at your vocal cords, keeping you quiet. Tommy always looks slightly ridiculous when you step out for church on Sundays—starched jeans and perfectly ironed plaid button up to match, paired with an egregious belt buckle and cowboy boots. 

The thing was though, he fit in perfectly. And you couldn’t hate Tommy, it was nearly impossible.

Once inside, you’re already beelining for the attic with your shoes slipped off by the door and ready to strip down the layers of clothes to quell the sticky heat that was lingering on your skin. But, there’s a creak to your left and a voice you hadn’t heard since the night before, under…more nefarious pretenses. But, he didn’t know that. You shouldn’t either.

Your eyes can’t meet his own as he rounds the corner, damp hair dripping droplets of water onto his clothed shoulders. He doesn’t speak to you, but he does look you over. There’s a smugness in his expression, amusement at your outfit like he knows. A perfect, modest length appropriate dress with that ugly fucking sweater your mom insisted on you wearing. You hate it, it was smeared all over your face, lips pulled into a tight line as your mother began barraging both of the brothers at once.

“She’ll come with,” You attention focuses back on the conversation halfway through, sneaking a small peak at Joel’s tired features, scratching at his beard with his other hand settled against his hips, so desperately wanting to escape the conversation, “I don’t need her being a nuisance while Joel’s trying to sleep.”

“She lives here,” Tommy points out, “I’m sure she can keep quiet. Do you wanna tag along?”

“No,” you respond with evident distaste, but there was also the creeping worry of being alone with Joel again, unsure how to approach your unfavorable behavior with him, “I’d really rather not, if that’s okay.”

Tommy offers a shrug to your mother, reminiscent of a told you so, before he’s cracking a joke at Joel’s expense, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

“Keep this loner some company anyways, he needs it,” Tommy jests.

“Well, we’ll be out until the evening,” your mother adds, almost like it was a bad thing which wasn’t nearly the case, in fact—it was a heavy weight off your chest, “so call if you need anything and sweetheart, mind your manners.”

“She’ll be alright,” Joel interjects suddenly, “ain’t never caused any problems with me.”

Your mother nods despite her inclination to make a comment or prove a point and after a tense goodbye and a hug that was far too tight, she’s dragging Tommy out the front door again and it shuts with a deafening click as Joel still remained in his previous position, eying the floor for a time before his eye meet your own as yank at the buttons of your sweater and shrug it off your shoulders.

The events over the past few weeks were clawing at your gut, that nervous and fluttering feeling driving you to silence—girl, always testin’ me—it was a constant echo in your head. That, flurried with his grunts and the sight of his hand gripping his cock. And your teasing words were no better, inviting him in and welcoming the temptation.

You had to cut the cord—this wasn’t you. It was wrong, sinful, the shame sitting on your tongue and bitter to swallow. It didn’t matter that it didn’t feel wrong, factually, it was. You would be shamed, frowned upon, rejected by your own mother if she even caught a whiff of your advances toward Joel. But, he’d lied for you when he didn’t have to and that was more confusing than it needed to be. 

Joel clears his throat, “I’m gonna head to bed, worked a fifteen hour shift and I’m barely standin’ right now,” Your gaze flicks up as you kneel on the couch, settling into the cushion but leaning yourself slightly over the arm, “you gonna be alright?”

You nod silently and watch as he returns the motion and turns on his heels, the floorboards creaking under the weight and there was no chance like now—say it, just apologize.

“Joel,” you say louder than needed, but it does the trick, “I—you lied for me to my mother, you didn’t have to and I’m…sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I know that doesn’t change anything, but I—”

There’s a flickering of guilt across his own face that you’re familiar with, knowing he’s dreamt of you in the exact ways you’ve suggested and while he doesn’t audibly admit it, his thoughts almost project, eyes racking over your chest for a beat to long as they press together under your thin top and peek through the deep cut in your shirt.

“No harm done,” He lies, his eyes noticeable flicking back up toward your gaze and you don’t react, neither does he, “no sense in pissing her off more than she already is with you all the time, right?”

“Right,” you mumble dejectedly, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you settle into the cushion more permanently, “just…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies assuredly, knowing he’d done you a favor with the expectation that it might absolve him of some of his own guilt about the entire situation—but just as Joel was being disingenuous, he suspected you were too.

Save your own ass and all that.

It didn’t matter and Joel knew it was better to move beyond it entirely.

Except his dreams are invaded with the sight of your tits, pert and perfect as he squeezed them under his grip and he swears he can feel the warmth of your skin, your smell, but the deep slumber quickly pulls him under.

-

There’s only so much to occupy your day, having made a few snacks for yourself and wandered aimlessly around Joel’s home, even managed a short nap amongst his soft snoring from his cracked bedroom door, occasionally looking around the corner or over your shoulder to find him sleeping deeply. By high noon, you’re restless. It was hot. Wicked summer heat. You decided to change into your swimsuit and head outside, grabbing a towel and a bottle of newly purchased sunscreen.

There’s a few reclining lawn chairs on Joel’s back deck luckily, snagging one as you drag it toward the lawn and into the sun, squinting at the blistering UV as you bring your sunglasses down your face and allow them to make home on the bridge of your nose. The neighbors have their sprinklers going, giving their gardens a much needed drink during the non-stop dry spell that Austin seemed to be under, the spray hits your skin gingerly as you settle into a good spot and take a seat, spreading the sunscreen out sparingly over your arms and legs, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to reach your back appropriately, but that didn’t matter. 

You untied the back of your top, both at your spine and neck and reclined the chair out completely before resting on your stomach, eyes closed to the quiet hum of afternoon summer and kids playing a few houses down, the soft buzz of dragonflies and bees amongst the foliage.

It was the simple luxuries you enjoyed that weren’t possible with your mother hovering around you, but that was why you had so much appreciation for Tommy, keeping her busy beyond her means and knowing that she was happier when occupied with other things—like him, or the possibilities and expectations that would come with their new life when they did find a place together.

You knew you weren’t going with them, but that was another mountain to climb trying to explain to your mother, knowing it wouldn’t bode well and would end in an all out brawl if you dropped it on her now—in due time, you think. 

Your tendency to fastrack through missed opportunities and experiences were your own downfall, but the newfound freedom was exhilarating, breathing in deep as you closed your eyes and relaxed, several minutes passing before you heard a creak at the backdoor. 

But even then, you don’t move.

You know it’s Joel when the grill lid whines in protest, utensils clinging behind you. 

He doesn’t say a word and forces himself to keep his eyes on the dirtied grill as he scrubs it down ignoring your occasional fidgeting and the soft creaks of the reclined chair, his eyes catching the soft skin of your back, the curve of your breasts as press out at your side, squeezed against the towel you were laying on and the strings dangling toward the grass that Joel had neglected for the past couple weeks and he’s only realizing his wandering eyes when his hand slips through the slit in the grill and drops the sponge into the ash, cursing loudly to himself.

“Was I being too loud?”

Joel tosses the sponge to the side and opens the tray to dump out the remaining remnants of  ash from their last cookout, walking toward the dumpster near the gate leading to the front yard, no further than a few yards from you as he mumbles a quiet, “No. Wasn’t you.”

Weird. Your brow furrows for a moment before you reaching for the bottle of sunscreen, taking advantage of the extra pair of hands as you offer the bottle to his empty ones, the plastic cap hitting his stomach as you press it against him, hands pressed tight over your swim top to keep your breasts covered, despite how much the material failed to hide.

“Just my back,” you explain, “I can’t reach it. Well—I can, but I’m definitely missing some spots.”

Joel’s fingers curl around the bottle but he doesn’t pull and your fingers haven’t left either, grazing against the denim at his waist and you sigh in subtle frustration. 

“Joel, it isn’t a trick,” you promise, “besides, with your hands it’ll take like, two seconds.”

He makes a face at that, halfway between amused and mortified. You shove the bottle deeper against his stomach, insistent as you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh, come on,” You beg, “It’s sunscreen, get over it.”

There it was. The snark you couldn’t hide, like second nature with him. He snatches the bottle with his tongue slipping under his top lip as he snaked it over his teeth and popped the cap with his thumb, flashing a content smile in his direction as you settle back on your stomach, pushing down at the strings of your bottoms slightly to offer the full expanse of your back.

Joel, poor Joel, swallows around the lump in his throat and tries indefinitely to ignore the everlasting bulge that grew in your presence, a side effect of inappropriate thoughts and your sharp tongue. He’s pathetic and he knows it. 

He kneels down between your split legs, one knee on the cheap plastic and his other foot planted firmly in the grass as he hovers. It was as close as he could allow himself, a few inches forward and he would have his thigh pressed against your center, the swell of your pussy grinding against his jeans and he wouldn’t be able to resist, pulling at the loose ties and diving into the sweet divine. 

You clear your throat, turning your cheek to rest against the back of your palm as you wait with the cold tip of your cross necklace snug between your lips, a self-satisfied smile growing on your face as the warmth of his hand contrasts the cool sunscreen, a broad stripe up your back from tailbone to neck as his fingers fold over your shoulder and drag against the chain before he’s tossing the bottle into the grass to make use of his other hand, spreading the sunscreen out evenly on the full expanse of your back.

A pseudo massage masked in the way his thumbs rub along the center of your skin, fingers rubbing in the sunscreen along your side, just along the curve of your hips before they’re back up at your shoulders and the muscle is being squeezed gently under his grip.

“You’re tense, kid,” Joel notes, pulling away to wipe his cream covered hands on the towel, catching your gaze.

“With a mother like mine, wouldn’t you be?”

Joel pauses briefly, a silent acknowledgment as he stands, vehemently ignoring the way your legs slip together and your ass pushes up into the air slightly as you reposition yourself.

He grimaces at how sticky his hands feel still, reaching for the spout on the siding and gripping the hose in his hand as the water pours out, hot for a moment as it slips out before it rushes out ice cool, wetting his hands generously.

“Can’t stand getting a little messy, can you?” You tease when you hear the water run behind you, lifting up on your forearm to peer at the older man, his face still frozen in a tight grimace but his eyes briefly turning up toward you.

What a little shit. 

His thumb slides over the opening on the hose and transforms the flow into a forceful spray as he lifts stream and at the chair you were lounging in, forcing you up in a matter of seconds while Joel rendered you drenched, top forgotten as you slip your arm over your breasts in attempt to retain some decency.

The cause of action only dawns on Joel in the aftermath, watching you sopping wet as you stomp toward him and attempt to yank the hose from his grip, the option for turning the spout off forgotten—it couldn’t be that simple.

Joel quickly extends the main end of the hose from your grip with a tug of a smirk and you huff, hard through your nose as you twist and press your back against his chest as you wrestle for his arm, in a wrestle for the hose his arm finds home against your chest and you gradually fall to your knees, tackled by Joel in a manner that is surprisingly gentle despite your frustration.

But, somehow you end up chest to chest and none of the effort is worth it, even as you turn the house on him and the water soaks his clothes and your chest, hose slapping into the grass as you toss it aside, breath catching as your heart raced from the exertion.

Joel makes the mistake of shifting to move, his knees hiking behind the curve of your ass and pushing his clothed cock against your core, only separated by a couple layers of clothes, his denim against your think bikini tied lazily at your waist and his eyes drag down by pure coincidence as he tries to find his grip against the grassy surface.

There it was—his eyes on your chest, your eyes on him, and his cock hard against your cunt in an unignorable way. 

Joel quickly scrambles to his feet with a frustrated clear of his throat, ignoring you like a quick spreading plaque as he left his tasks behind to disappear as quickly as he had resurfaced and you reach blindly for your top, draping it over your chest hastily as you tried and failed to piece together what the hell had just transpired. 

It was like a shot of adrenaline in your bloodstream as you sat up, the world spinning in a way that made you woozy—you turned toward the back door, slightly ajar from the force Joel used to shut it, slamming against the frame before it popped back open.

He could deny you all he wanted, but his body couldn’t lie—wondering if he was running off to finish himself like he had the night before, almost daring to chase after him.

But instead, you hide.

Decisive and calculated, you’d wait him out.

Like meek prey, he’d seek you out if the hunger struck. 

—

After a swift shower you barricade yourself upstairs, the murmuring voices below lulling you to sleep as you skip dinner—you couldn’t speak to Joel, wouldn’t. 

He lies for you, despite knowing that your avoidance of dinner was entirely his own fault.

Sort of.

It was a double-edged sword, both parties responsible.

 But, Joel feels the guilt faster, easier, and he drowns it away in a six pack of beers Tommy brings home as he and his brother, and his soon-to-be sister in law enjoyed a quiet dinner, the occasional complaint slipping from your mother’s lips as she ate.

“She wasn’t feeling too good,” Joel fibs, wiping at his mouth with a napkin, crumbling the flimsy material in his fist, “I can bring her a plate up later, after I clean up—”

“Oh, please,” She holds her hand up to interrupt, politely refusing, “we’ll clean up, won’t we?”

Tommy squints, eyeing the table full of dirtied dishes but nods regardless. 

Always the yes man. Joel smirks, a flippant chuckle under his breath.

Joel tips back the final bottle of beer and swallows it down, having learned to manage his alcohol well after years of casual drinking that had slowly morphed into a crutch. He gets the buzz, the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest but otherwise it was undetectable, aside from the hasty decision making to find a reason to bother you after the wrestling match that afternoon. 

He quietly piled the food onto a plate, working around the kitchen and squeezing past the other two bodies before he’s yanking at the cord to the attic stairs, your body lunging up at the sound, nearly jumping out of your own skin as the light peeks through and the hard, heavy footsteps follow.

Joel hears the both of them, Tommy and your mother, as they finish up in the kitchen and trail off into their own respective room in the house, pulling at the handle with his unoccupied hand to seal out the creeping light from downstairs. He slides the plate of food on the dresser shoved against the nearest wall before his head is turning toward you, watching as you rubbed at your eyes, faking the grogginess from a deep sleep you never managed to fall into, running both hands through the front of your hair before they’re flattening out against your duvet, wondering which one of you should speak first.

Both hands shoved into his front pockets, he turns to you fully. He’s changed from earlier, denim traded for a soft cloth; sweats, paired with his usual dark washed shirt.

Relaxed. He looks…relaxed. His eyes are undeniably softer, too. His lips rubbing together tight before his tongue slips out to wet them and he’s still standing, waiting—for what, you’re not sure.

“I’ll eat it later,” you appease his lingering presence, taken aback as the words seem to bring him back to life, socked feet soft against the wood floors but the intent is heavy and intimidating, “I will, I promise—“

You weren’t lying, you would. 

But, then the bed creaks as he takes a seat and your legs widen to make room for him, the blanket slipping down your thighs and revealing bare legs under a long t-shirt, having changed out of your damp clothes too. 

Closer, you can see the flush in his chest. Cheeks warm and hot, you’re sure if you touched him it would be confirmed. Drunk? It didn’t seem likely, but he had definitely been drinking, a deep but quiet sigh coming from his chest before he spoke.

“Don’t apologize,” you began before he could get the words out, “god—don’t, just…”

“I was gonna ask if you’re feelin’ alright,” Joel begins, turning toward you hesitantly, a fist curled and stamped into the mattress, watching the muscle of his bicep and forearm flex with the action, core clenching at the sight of it.

You nod lazily, “How was dinner?”

He knows you’re not asking about the food.

“Typical,” He responds lightly, “your mom loves carryin’ the conversation, doesn’t she?”

“She just enjoys the sound of her own voice.”

Joel chuckles quietly, hand unfurling and his fingers grazing against your knee. For a moment, you think it could be an accident, but as you find a surge of confidence and drag your fingers over his own, pulling his hand up to your face curiously, making a show to smell his hand with a light quip thrown his way.

“Got all the sunscreen off finally,” You joke and the stretched out glimpse of you flashes through Joel’s mind, his fingers pulling at tied strings, the nylon falling against thick blades of grass, “did you enjoy your shower?”

Joel quirks his brow, curious.

Right, he didn’t know. A momentary lapse of judgment letting the words slip.

“You know, was it…peaceful? Nice?” 

No additional expletives groaned out under the steady stream, fist wrapped around his cock? Selfishly your eyes wandered toward the no longer tented material, having caught quite the eyeful earlier—and felt it just the same.

His hand slowly drops to the bedsheet, thumb grazing the cream material while the rest of his fingers curl over your knee, your own hand placed atop it, an unspoken but welcomed touch.

He was losing his mind, surely.

He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t have sat down. 

But, Joel lied for you and that was the first mistake.

“I lied for you, again,” He comes clean, emphasis on his final word as his eye flicks up despite his downturned gaze, watching your thumb rub into the spot between his own and pointer finger, “makin’ habit of it, it seems.”

A soft breath mingles between the space, tight and tense, too intimidated to confront him head on now, shaking your head at his words, “You were the one who said my secret was safe, remember?”

His large hand flexes around yours as he presses the back of your hand into the sheets, held prison under his grip, “You know I never meant it like that—“

“Didn’t you?” You counter, turning your eyes up toward him cautiously, daring him to confess.

Our secret, alright?

It was the gateway—one small lie unfolding into many and soon it would be like breathing, second nature. 

“Why are you still here?” There’s a softness in your tone that beckons a confession, but Joel’s hard-headed. 

So, he retaliates.

“Why haven’t you asked me to leave?” His eyebrows raise, a subtle smile pulling at his lips that was brought up by the inhibitions of alcohol, mostly Joel but there was something lingering.

The words float through your head, climb up your throat, but you can’t force them to leave your mouth, eyes softening under his gaze as a warm, careful hand caresses up your thigh, fingertips grazing your clothed cunt, the wet heat undeniable as it seeps through your underwear.

You can smell the beer on his breath but it doesn’t stop your hand from clawing up his chest and behind his neck, allowing him to pull your leg over his lap, spread wide on your bed as he fit between them, “You’ve been drinking,” it was obvious, but Joel shakes his head, tongue licking at his bottom lip as his left hand squeezes at your calf, “haven’t you?”

“That bother you?” He wonders—he’s mostly unaffected, you can tell. The creeping flush to his face a mix of the alcohol and you, he’s just as in his right mind as you, the inside of his palm reaching further to cup your cunt, rubbing gently with the heel of his palm.

A breathy sigh and a head shake in return as your legs spread wider, hips canting into his touch as your hand falls to your side, exposing your clothed chest to him, breasts peeking through the sheer fabric of your top while your other hand grips Joel’s neck harder, blunt fingernails digging into the skin.

“What are you doing?” You ask carefully, not wanting to startle him. 

It doesn’t even seem to phase him, though. His hand moves forward slightly to push your shirt up your stomach before it slipped beyond the fabric of your underwear and against your bare skin, two fingers sliding between your folds to press into your sticky slick.

“Giving you what you want,” Like it was obvious; the constant taunting, ill-mannered behavior, his own resolve finally breaking and the guilt he was feeling disappearing in an instant now that he has you like this, a clandestine sight, “—s’what you wanted, right?”

You nod, a subtle jerk of your head.

At the notion, his hands are in two different directions—one hand is tracing the chain that wore like armor, a dainty necklace your mother had gifted you when you were young that was the only significance you had to show for with her, your undying faith. He slips the necklace around and between your shoulder blades, out of sight. His other hand slips between your thighs until they’re finding home against your cunt. Absent fingers drifting deeper between your shoulder blades, delicate touches tracing along your spine over soft skin until he’s back at the nape of your neck and squeezing, determined fingers rubbing slowly at your sensitive clit, a stuttered and quiet gasp falling from your lips.

He’s not the first man to touch you like this, but he was skilled. No fumbling hands and hesitant touches, there was surety in his movements and his gaze that didn’t shy from yours in embarrassment or lack of care.

Joel Miller was in the mood to watch you fall apart for his own entertainment.

“Shh,” He reminds you, a soft command, “don’t need them gettin’ curious.”

You shake your head in agreement, a plethora of sins being committed in the act of one greedy and selfish desire, “Mo—More,” You plead, feeling his fingers slide down the center of your cunt before they’re breaching your tight hole and pressing inside. Joel grunts as you pull at his short curls, his tongue resting wanting over his bottom teeth, yearning for a taste.

“Take it off,” He demands, “wanna see those pretty tits, darlin’.”

Your skin prickles with anticipation, separating from him briefly to pull your shirt over your head and Joel, in a moment of blind lust, takes the advantage of you on your back to yank your panties down your ankles and balling them up, thrown haphazardly near the top of your bed as he settles on his knees between your outstretched legs—

God, he’s going to hell.

And you want to kiss him, the feeling so strong it sends an ache down your core, releasing a shaky breath as he squeezes at your thighs before his fingers continue, dipping inside of you with ease. Luckily, with this position, he’s got a free hand to rub at your clit, thumb pressed firmly against the nub and drawing soft, mewling sounds from your lips. 

It’s intoxicating, the subtle smell of barley and fresh soap. He’s speaking to you in some far off, distant place, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets an inescapable pace. They’re goading words, encouraging and bordering the line of patronizing but you can’t commit them to memory, only coming as another soft command falls from his lips.

Because he sees your fingers itching, needy, “Touch yourself,” He murmurs, his touch somehow more tender as his fingers pump inside of you, thumb working quick circles of your clit as you hands drag feather-light of your breasts, a tickle at the center of your chest before you’re squeezing the flesh under your grip and moaning louder as he changes the angle of his fingers inside of you, deep and undeniably precise. Thick fingers keep you full and satisfied.

He can hear your breath quickening, a silent warning when your brain wasn’t catching up with the rest of your body, words a complete loss. His fingers slip out of you, wet slick smearing over your mouth as he leans forward to muffle the unintentional cry that falls from your lips as he pulls you over the edge with a mere motion of his thumb, your eyes squeezing shut as you come.

The pleasure blooms inside, teeth digging gently into the skin of his palm as you selfishly savor the feeling, Joel only moving away when your eyes fall back on him—back to reality.

“How’s that for a mess?” Joel doesn’t miss a beat, turning your earlier jab back on you as you notice the gleam on his fingers, thin strings of slick hang between his fingers as he separates them and you pull at his wrist, knowing that Joel would follow through the rest of the way, pressing his fingers to your lips as you clean him, tongue dragging along the digits diligently.

You swear you hear Joel groan, but it was muffled by your own squeak as Joel grabbed at your chin, flesh pinched between his fingers, “Eat your damn dinner,” He demands, but you quickly muffle him with the fabric of your underwear, shoving it into his mouth before you move dangerously close to his face, still under the stern grip of his hand.

“No problem,” You appease him, “and a suggestion—”

Pulling the fabric from his mouth, you aren’t amiss as he pockets it, his eyebrows raising in question.

“Double check your doors next time you decide to jerk off to me.”

Because if anything, you wanted him to be more deliberate.

Joel’s flush deepens, shame flashing in his eyes for a brief moment before you break out into a playful smile as you sing softly, “Goodnight, Joel.”

Joel’s never had a harder time falling asleep, night creeping into dawn before the slumber finally takes him, riddled with a guilt that is indescribable. 

–

Breakfast is quiet.

Too quiet.

You pick lazily at the fresh blueberry muffins your mother had baked that morning, watching as Tommy conversed with Joel across the living room, both of them nursing steaming cups of coffee. Your mother notices your trailing gaze, mistaking it for you spacing out as she perks up, speaking from beside you as she pours more orange juice into your empty glass.

“I was thinking we could do something in town today,” She begins, “all of us—Joel, too. Tommy mentioned they’ve got a fair going on downtown—food, music, plenty to keep you interested.”

You slip the blueberry beyond your lips and chomp down, “What’s the occasion? Big news? Don’t tell me your pregnant—”

Your name comes out as a stark warning, the plastic bottle of orange juice crunching under her grip, “That is not—no, I’m not. But, Tommy and I…may have put an offer down on a house, if you’re that curious. We were gonna drive by on the way there and show it to you.”

You shake your head nonchalantly, “Joel was actually going to take me to that cowboy museum a couple towns over—I forgot to ask, but you don’t care, right?”

Joel perks up at the mention of his name, his conversation with Tommy stalling.

“I mean, I’ll be with Joel,” You remind her, “I’ll be safe, won’t I?”

Your head turns over your shoulder, catching Joel’s surprised expression and watching as it slowly morphs into understanding, silently following the path you had so carefully constructed as he approaches the counter at your side, pressing his mug into the counter.

“I shoulda mentioned it,” He lies through his teeth, “slipped my mind, but it’s alright with you?”

She swallows. Tense. 

Tommy interjects then and chuckles, clapping a hand over his brother’s shoulder.

“History of cowboys?” He asks, “Oh come on, sweetheart. Let ‘em go, they can always meet up with us after.”

She folds for Tommy, of course. Flashing an apprehensive smile that you knew too well, eyes flitting toward the pair of brother’s with a cynical regard, catching Joel’s tight expression for a brief moment. You had lied, big deal.

 It wasn’t the worst thing you’ve done as of late, watching the leisurely swagger of Joel’s walk as he steps toward the coffee pot, offering a sturdy goodbye over his shoulder as the lovebirds make their escape, leaving you both under the thick cloud of unspoken tension.

With disregard, he walks past you and sips noisily at his coffee, taking a seat on the couch with the low hum of the morning news as your sock covered feet pat softly against the floor. Your thigh presses against the arm hanging over the couch as you squeeze by, but you’re stopped by Joel’s foot pressing into the coffee table, blocking your path.

“You make plans for somethin’ I’m unaware of?” 

You huff out a soft laugh through your nose before you shove at his foot gently, knocking it to the ground before you’re climbing over his lap, mug screeching against the table as Joel scrambles to place it down, his hands falling against your hips instinctively as you settle over him, tight shorts crawling up your thighs and settling in the crease of your hips.

His touch is intimate—and warm, god his hands were always so warm. Your fingers scratch testingly at his patchy facial hair, a delicate touch that extends to his mused morning hair, untouched and still riddled with sleep. Then he’s inhaling hard as your lips press to his without preamble, his mouth opening in a quiet sigh and your tongue find the opportunity and slips beyond his lips, dragging over his teeth as it swipes against his own tongue and for a few minutes he melts into you, returning the kiss back feverishly.

But, like a fragile tower—the moment snaps and collapses in on itself as Joel shoves you away, a large hand pressed against your collarbone as you yelp at the sudden movement, slightly disappointed as you frown.

“Stop,” he breaths out harsh, his hand fisting in your shirt as he peers up you through a half-lidded gaze, “you—we can’t keep doin’ this, kid.”

“No one’s here,” you murmur, pushing at his hand but it doesn’t budge, so you settle for his thighs, cotton material smooth to the touch as you fingers climb until they can settle near his groin, rubbing your clothed cunt against his hardened cock, a noticeable tent in his pants, “if you worried about getting caught.”

“I know you’re doing this to get back at your mother,” Joel begins, but he never gets the chance to finish.

“And if I was doing this for me?” You counter, “Because I want to? What would you say then?”

There’s a long beat of silence, Joel’s hands pressing into your hips again to keep you still, frozen in place and unable to chase the pleasure you were so desperately after.

“Naive,” He offers, “childish—downright stupid, if you think about it. I’m twice your age and if the other reason wasn’t obvious, well—“

“We’re not blood related,” you argue, “it isn’t nearly the same thing and you know it.”

You lean forward, crowding into his space once more, the ghost of his breath across your lips as he eyes follow, his head leaning back as you move in, hesitant. 

“Besides, I think you’ve ruined all other men for me,” You goad, a salacious grin spreading across your face, “your fingers—Joel, they’re—“

At a loss for words, you sigh, hips dropping against his groin pointedly, he grunts and you can see the hard line of his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

“I’m not the one, darlin’. You can’t compare me to them—I’m old, I’ve lived. Don’t think you gotta settle for me.”

Joel has sequestered himself to loneliness—after his separation from his wife, the loss of his daughter, he was content being alone. Living alone. Dying alone. 

Drowned out by bad decisions and alcohol, he’s found himself regretting his choices once again, but not for the reasons he had hoped.

He didn’t regret you—his actions with you, but how the repercussions would affect you if your mother found out, his brother. There was no coming back, no explanation that could justify his actions.

But you’re sitting, pouting in his lap as your finger twirls around the string of his sleep pants and he knows that look—more, give me more.

Nothing would satiate that hunger.

“I’m not a virgin, you know,” you add as if it may magically heal things, but the next words out of your mouth have Joel squeezing at the flesh of your hips, words that make his cock pulse under his clothes, “I think you enjoy corrupting me, too. My mom put me on birth control the second she was able, afraid I’d turn out like her.”

Luckily, you hadn’t. She’d never let you live that down.

You press in further, a hand climbing up to press against the column of Joel’s throat, lips sliding against his as you whisper, “Do you wanna ruin me, Joel?”

All you get in response is a growl, deep and intense as he surges forward, kissing you soundly to shut you up.

It was a weight off your chest, a sharp breath as he slips his tongue into your mouth as you part your lips as his fingers pull at the base of your scalp, a sharp sting of pain drowned out by pleasure.

“Upstairs,” he ordered, mouth down your neck hungrily, “in your room, now.”

The heated, dark look in his eyes tells you that you weren’t going alone, his footsteps trailing behind you.

-

He splits you open with his thighs, already bare underneath him as he’s stripped himself of everything but his pants, sans his underwear he definitely wasn’t wearing, an unreadable expression on his face. Pinched, his brow furrowed as he lingered around you, hands pressing into the mattress but not you, careful that his hands didn’t stray too far again.

“Should I say my morning prayers?” You tease, your pointer finger trailing down the center of his chest, both of your eyes following the digit until it hooks into the waistband of his underwear, “Absolve you of some guilt?”

“It ain’t guilt,” Joel retorts, dark eyes flicking up toward you, “you really think all that prayin’ actually works?”

You shrug, “I dunno what I think anymore—what do you believe in, Joel?”

Joel chuckles lowly, ignoring your hand as it slips beyond the material to touch him, his cock heavy in your hands, feeling the surreality of the moment hit you all at once as his hips keen into the touch, a subtle gesture as his fists settle into the space beside your head.

“Ain’t never believe in nothing,” He responds quieter, “easier that way.”

You hum softly, nodding absently to his response as you force the final piece of clothing down his hips, his eyes never really leaving you—wandering, maybe, but you have his full attention.

“Come on, Joel,” You squander, giving his cock a light squeeze before your hand trails up his chest, fingers forming to the lines of his jaw as your fingers glide over his scruff, “Easier?”

“You’re brainwashed,” He admits, pausing to slip his hand between your bodies and drifting over your cunt before he slips two fingers inside of you without warning, a gasp ripping from your throat but quickly settling as his fingers work inside of you meticulously, dragging with gentle pressure against your walls, “can’t think for yourself without feelin’ guilt, can you?”

He’s making a mockery of the beliefs you’ve been under for years—you get it, you do. But, it seems to strike a nerve when you dig deeper, unsure why, amongst your building pleasure the taunting scripture slips from your lips in an attempt to rile him further.

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just—” Your voice wavers as Joel’s attention snaps to your soft words, eyes locked on his unreadable expression, “ and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousn—”

A tight squeeze at the cross around your neck does him in.

A familiar sound slips beyond his lips, a hungry and deep set growl as he breaks from you, manhandling you with force onto your stomach and in an attempt to muffle your antics and silence you, a hand pressed against the back of your neck, face pressed into the soft fluff of your pillow as his voice rumbles behind you.

“Ain’t gonna listen to that shit,” Joel gripes, his free hand binding to your waist as he lifts your hips up, back arched and ass up, breathing out a soft noise of protest as he squeezes at your skin, “—you done?”

You shake your head weakly, a small laugh bubbling from your chest as the full expanse of his hand slides over your cheek, pressing your face deeper into the pillow, his thumb tracing along the corner of your mouth.

“There’s no savin’ yourself from this, sweetheart,” Joel acknowledges, a vague but somehow crystal clear way of checking in, assuring there was consent to follow through—that you wanted this.

“I know,” You mumble around the finger that glides over your lip, a calloused thumb against soft, fleshy lips.

Joel presses inside of you with a low groan, mixed with a tight hiss as you clench around him instinctively, your eyes drifting shut as his cock fits inside your tight walls, both hands drifting to the pillow under your head and gripping tight as he begins a slow, steady snap of his hips in utter silence, forceful exhales coming from his nose as he fucks you from behind, noting the way your lips drift apart when he presses just a little too deep, the skin between your eyes scrunching up at the bridge of your nose.

His thumb presses inside of your mouth, against the inside of your cheek before pressing against your tongue, effectively silencing you, “Go on,” Joel taunts, “keep prayin’.”

Your eyes roll back as the hand gripping your waist travels over your stomach and toward your cunt, his middle finger drifting featherlight over your clit in slow circles, your grip in the weak cloth fabric growing tighter—you make an attempt, unintelligible mumbles around his thick finger, followed by a deep snicker of amusement from the man behind you, inside of you.

“Don’t try and convince me you believe that shit,” Joel tells you, “not when you’re beggin’ me to fuck you like this—’ve never been a saint, either.”

Eventually, your mind goes blank, a welcomed numbness as Joel fucks you into the mattress above a squeak boxspring in a home that didn’t belong to you, in a room that has only been yours for a short time, giving in to a forbidden temptation with a man who’s challenged every belief you’ve ever known.

He notices your attention drifting, removing his hand from your mouth, smearing the saliva over your breasts as he jostles you upright, your back pressed tight against his chest as you move against him lazily, feeling the deep, full snap of his hips as he breathes hot and heavy into your neck.

“Just this time,” He promises you, “no more teasin’, or lying—”

The preaching to you was rich, given his own actions. He must be speaking to himself, committing himself to it aloud. You nod regardless, knowing now that you’ve learned his weakness.

Because, like you, it was the unavoidable temptation.

“Another secret?” You tease, feeling the crest of your orgasm building in your gut as he squeezes at your breast, his soft groans evolving into throaty moans, a boisterous surprise to somehow who’s always so forlorn, an empty house with no reason to hide his deep and selfish need for pleasure, you giggle quietly through the force of your orgasm as you both collapse on the mattress, Joel’s hands barely catching himself to avoid the weight of his body pressing into you as he pulls out of you slowly, the bed creaking underneath the movement.

You feel candescent, shirt barely covering your body as you haphazardly drape it over yourself, watching as Joel pulled his sweatpants back up over his hips, his eyes catching on you in a way you’ve never witnessed, his come literally dripping down your thighs and he senses the shift in your expression, immediate guilt flushing your body and showing in the way your body curls in on itself, avoiding the eye contact he was offering. 

He sees it, the way your brain is programmed to feel immediate guilt, shame, and as much as he’d like to think of a way to fix it, he knows that was something you had to work through on your own.

A shower would work for now, though. 

Wash away the sin until the inevitable happens.

-

There is some normalcy that returns to your life as your classes resume, finding that time away from the Miller household was refreshing in a way. Tension with your mother was unavoidable, the wedding on the horizon and the impending truth threatening to come to light—your mother had done an excellent job as sheltering you, brainwashing you, and scaring you into behaving out of fear that you might be stuck down. 

It all seemed small and finite now, that craving to break Joel down for your own pleasure, seeing the shell of a man he was now.

And he, of course, couldn’t even follow through with his own promise to himself.

Though, as you return for the short weekends, he doesn’t always seem like…Joel.

He drinks more, itching toward the end of September soon and a couple months back at school and when you aren’t buried in the sheets of your twin bed or locked away in the darkness of his room when you’re both home alone, he reeks of alcohol and silence.

He doesn’t seem angry or upset, but the sadness is like a wave.

It makes it easier to keep your distance, something Joel acts like he wants, but then he’s seeking you out in the dark again, bourbon on his tongue and you return the messy kiss he presses to your lips, trying to silence your own thoughts by occupying yourself with him.

But, he does sense your hesitancy.

“I’ll go,” He speaks into the darkness, a hand cradling your head as he squeezes at the base of your neck, a comforting gesture despite the cloud that shrouded him, “if you want me to.”

You’ve barely seen him all day, both of the brothers overwhelmingly forlorn, but you don’t pry.

“No, no,” You insist, hushed against his mouth as you seek out his eyes, glossed over and hooded, his shoulders twitching when your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, “you just—you seem tired.”

It was a loaded word, one that Joel doesn’t touch or elaborate on. But, he was tired, physically. Taking on more shifts before the holidays approach, begging to keep himself occupied alongside his brother who was stressing for his own reasons. He’d come to you seeking a weird dichotomy of comfort and it made you feel warm inside, but a tinge of warning couldn’t be ignored.

“Just sleep here,” You suggest, “I’ll wake you early, before they’re up.”

Without protest, he nods.

You can’t explain how easily your bodies mold together on the too small mattress, like this was something you’ve done for years, staring up blankly at the ceiling as Joel snored quietly beside you.

–

“Hey, kiddo,” Tommy boasts from the kitchen counter as descend the stairs, making your pass through the fridge before you’re gone for another week, “school treatin’ you alright?”

“It’s fine,” You shrug noncommittally, ripping a banana from its bunch and reaching for the half empty jug of orange juice, pouring half a cup to sate your stomach, “how’s mom?”

Tommy feels the heaviness around the question, tensing as he sips at his coffee, “Stressed over the wedding, all the planning, ya know—“

“Yeah,” It’s lazy and short, but Tommy knows your relationship with her is less than favorable lately, sensing your desire for freedom and answers, truth rather than careful lies your mother has constructed around you for your safety, “uh, can I ask a question, actually?”

Tommy nods, hearing the faint creaking of the floorboard somewhere distant in the house. 

“Is…Joel okay?” 

Tommy seems surprised, but he masks it quickly.

“Oh, he…usually gets…worse around the anniversary of Sarah’s death,” Your eyes wander, clearly missing crucial information but your eyes drift toward the closed bedroom door that was vehemently off limits, always wondering but never questioning, “shit—we ain’t mentioned her to you?”

You shake your head.

“She died about five years ago, raisin’ her alone had always been tough on Joel but her dying…it’s been hard.”

“His daughter?”

He had a daughter.

I’m old, I’ve lived, the words echoing in your head.

“He…never mentioned her, you’ve never…”

“He won’t,” Tommy tells you, “can’t even bring her up to him most days—I thought I’d mentioned it to you but it must’ve slipped my mind, I’m sorry, kiddo.”

“No, don’t…don’t apologize.” You assure him, taking a sip of the tart juice and peeling slowly at the peel of your banana, “I guess that explains the bottles on the table when I come home every weekend.”

And the alcohol on his breath when he kisses you.

Tommy notes the way you so easily call the house home now, smiling slightly. But, he’s always been aware of his brother’s…problem, not sure how to help or fix the situation without an implosion happening.

In the distance, you can hear your mother calling out for Tommy, his eyes drifting toward the sound.

“Have a good week,” He pressed a gentle kiss at the crown of your head, squeezing at your shoulder before leaning over to speak under his breath, “—you should talk to your mom before you plan on taking that offer, by the way.”

Your attention perks up, his finger drifting toward the envelope hidden under a stack of placemats on the kitchen table before he’s interrupted by another shout from your mother, “I can handle the fallout for you, kiddo. Don’t worry.”

Tommy retreats and eventually, you do too. Snatching the letter up and stowing it away in your bag, you aren’t able read through it until later that night, Joel’s unsaved number lingering on the phone screen in your missed calls.

It was an internship at your dream job in Dallas, a flat rate pay out with six months of lodging covered while you got on your feet—but more importantly it was an escape. 

You should be upset at Tommy for prying, opening the letter before you had a chance to peek at it yourself, but he’s sensed the tension for months. He loved your mother, but he cared for you, even in the tumultuous months he’s been around you both. 

You were strong, independent, and far better off blossoming on your own without the hard grip of your mother and her undying but fickle faith. 

The second call from Joel startles you back to reality, answering with a shaky finger.

“Didn’t say goodbye this morning,” Joel greets, only sounding slightly bitter.

You’re quiet for longer than Joel is comfortable with and he almost speaks again, apologizes, but you cut him off.

“Sorry…my mom, it seemed like she was already on her reign of terror and I didn’t���she’s hard to be around anymore.”

“I’m just messin’ with you, kid,” He replies, letting out a soft huff as he sat down in his worn-in recliner.

“Are they home?”

“Left about an hour ago, they’re movin’ stuff into the house, I guess? I don’t know,” Joel sounds disinterested and you share the sentiment, but then there’s a distinct snap of a bottle cap that you try to ignore.

Joel hears your lips part on the other end, “It’s been a long day,” It was the first time he’s outright acknowledged it, which was a step, but not what you needed.

“Tommy told me,” You blurt in frustration, “about her.”

“Listen, I don’t need you judgin’ me either. I get it enough from Tommy as is—“

“I’m not…I wasn’t,” You respond, confused, “I just, I wish you’d mentioned her, at least. Not that you owe that to me…but—”

Joel clears his throat and the bottle scuffs the table, undrank as he settles back into his seat.

“I got my own baggage, ain’t no sense dragging you into that,” Joel defends, “not with all you have going on.”

“If you can fuck me, you can talk to me too,”

It silences him effectively, “I’m not a child. I’m not your child. I’m an adult—“

“Where is this comin’ from? I’ve never said that—“

“I don’t know,” You sigh in exasperation, “It’s been a long day, Joel. I’m gonna head to bed, okay?”

You don’t wait for his response, hanging up on him with a frustrated finality, mad at yourself and him, reasons unclear—you haven’t prayed in months, but you find the urge as the guilt creeps in, wondering if Joel was the corruptor your mother had always warned you about.

They’ll come at your weakest and test your faith, and if you break, you’re just as feeble as the rest of the world without faith to guide them.

-

The week drags and you’d much rather be somewhere else, but you find yourself turning the doorknob to the Miller home and a Happy Birthday balloon floating into the open doorway, a contorted look of confusion on your face as your eyes land on the three adults in the living room.

“Are we celebrating early?” You look at your mother, who’s birthday is approaching in a couple weeks, but she’s quickly shaking her head.

“It’s Joel’s birthday, honey.”

“Oh,” Your eyes glide over the three of them until they land on Joel, “Happy Birthday?”

Joel hates the attention, clearly. 

The next few hours are spent together at a fancy restaurant Tommy decides to treat everyone too, a nice gesture for his brother’s birthday, but it doesn’t dissipate the underlying frustration.

And Tommy, being a pushover for the sake of allowing his brother to enjoy his birthday, drinks alongside him—four beers down and a couple shots later, dinner finished and skipping dessert, everyone is heading back to the car in silence, though Joel does look considerably lighter in his expression, his normally furrowed brow now relaxed.

Your mother is quick to drag Tommy to their shared room when you’re home, giving you a gentle hug that you haven’t felt in months, strange and unsettling to your psyche. Joel relaxes onto the couch, kicking his boots off toward the edge of the rug before he’s searching around blindly for the remote, thumbing the button to turn on the television.

It illuminates the dim room and you find yourself standing there, unmoving, suddenly feeling completely out of place in a home you’ve grown comfortable in.

“You’re quiet,” Joel notes, not looking at you while he fumbles with his watch, twisting in on his wrist as he places a sock covered foot against the coffee table.

“And you’re drunk,” You retorted, the again unsaid but implied.

“Believe it ‘r not, I can handle myself. I know my limit,” Joel responds, “I’ve been cuttin’ back, I don’t need you tellin’ me what I can handle. You’re young, you wouldn’t understand anyways.”

“Guess so,” You reply lamely, stripping off your shirt down to the thin spaghetti top, the thick September heat seeping inside the Miller home, even as the sun set—and you can feel Joel’s eyes on you before you look at him, eyes lingering longer than they should.

There were often moments where he would fend off your advances, quiet moments at home alone when you would slip into his lap or behind him and he’d let you down easily, but he wasn’t always that strong—a weak man with temptation dangling in his face. He’s always been in the wrong from the beginning, allowing any of this to develop and further.

But, you’re feeling vindictive tonight—upset and angry at yourself, angry at Joel—no, frustrated. 

And with Tommy and your mother turned in for the night, absolutely no sign of them resurfacing until morning, nothing was stopping you as Joel’s eyes bored into you and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

He’s always been cautious and safe, never while the house was occupied, only in quiet and enclosed spaces that he could lock the doors—that in the chance you might get caught he could lie or evade and not face the consequences, but even as you grow closer and climb into his lap, he doesn’t stop you.

Your hands grip his hair immediately, yanking his head back as you press your ass into his thighs and bring your lips to his jaw, mouthing against the line of his neck and around, pulling at the collar of his shirt to nip at his chest, nothing but his shallow breaths and the soft hum of the television to fill the air, the solid press of his hard cock against your inner thigh a warning sign.

You could end it here, leave him with the guilt that continued to grow within him. 

You could drag him to his room, ride him over his sheets like he desired, a clandestine sight that would have any man on his knees—or so he’s told you. 

Or, you seduce him here.

He was already nearly there, reaching for you as he leaned forward when you pulled back, pressing a hand into his chest, “I’m leaving, after the wedding,” Joel pauses, the furrow in his brow returning faintly, “I got an offer for an internship.”

“Well..that’s good, ain’t it?”

His hands squeeze at your sides as they travel and settle there, ignoring the obvious danger that the two could walk out at any moment, focused solely on you. It shouldn’t make you feel good, but it does. You shouldn’t want this, but you craved it.

“No, like—I’m leaving that night. To Dallas.” A long pause follows and Joel waits, watching as you glance down the hall, “I don’t know how to tell her.”

“Do you want to?” Joel asks.

You sigh softly, playing with the hem of his collar, “No, I don’t. Tommy told me he could deal with the fallout, but—”

“Tommy knows?”

You look at him with a tired roll of your eyes and a faint smile, “Yes, he does. He snooped and read the letter—he’s known I’ve wanted this opportunity for a while.”

“I didn’t think you two talked that much,” Joel replies honestly.

“We don’t, not always,” You admit, “not with my mom around—and he told me, about your drinking problem.”

Joel huffs quietly, scratching at his cheek as he looks away.

“I just—this isn’t…like, it isn’t also because of that, right?” You ask, “Does drinking make you feel less guilty about it?”

You know it isn’t the entire reason, but there is some suspicion. Given the constant lingering taste on his lip after the first instance together and the several that followed, a burgeoning problem of his own melding with the dangerous secrets you’ve been trying to keep.

“There’s no guilt,” It was the most confident you’ve heard Joel to be…ever. Not an ounce of hesitation in his tone, “We’re adults, we made a choice. But, I think there is a point where we have to realize this can’t work.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Joel awaits quietly, not giving you a nod but his eyes turn up in wait, his thumbs slipping under the fabric of your shirt to press into warm flesh.

“If they weren’t together—if your brother wasn’t going to be my stepdad, would you have thought twice? If we had met at a bar or something?”

“I don’t know,” Joel answers, unsure.

You sigh deeply, leaning into his eyeline to capture his lips, an unexpected kiss that grabs his attention, his hands climbing higher under your shirt in search of skin.

“I think you do,” You mumble against his mouth, “I also think you were vulnerable and you saw that I was too and you wanted to feel a little less lonely.”

Joel can’t find the words to respond, feeling like you’ve seen straight through him.

“So, let me help a little more,” You soothe his rapidly beating heart with your sultry tone, unbuttoning your jeans with slow movements, only removing yourself from him briefly to strip your jeans and underwear off before you return to his lap.

You wait until he finally got with the program and unbuttoned his own jeans, shifting them just far enough down his thighs that they’re out of the way, grabbing for the blanket draped over the couch to wrap around you and you almost protest, but the concentrated look on his face as returns your gaze short-circuits your thinking, fisting his cock as he slides it between your wet folds, pressing inside of you slowly, your slow breaths mingling together in each other’s mouth.

“Quiet,” He reminds you, “we have to be quiet.”

Easier said than done, you giggle against his lips.

“Says you,” You tease, lifting your hips slowly as he follows the movement, allowing you to lead, your hands pressing into the back of the couch, “I like hearing how bad you want it,”

Joel’s hand dwarfs your mouth as he covers it, eyes narrowing at your pointed choice of words and he snaps his hips into you harshly without warning, forcing out a yelp into his palm as your hands tighten into the cushion, canting your hips as you lift them in time with his thrusts.

He’s got his teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to silence himself, eventually grabbing for your hand and covering his own mouth in desperation, wrapping his free hand around your back and pulling you to his chest, foreheads pressed against each other as you meld together, different emotions swirling as he commits this feeling, and your body, to memory.

Joel feels the familiar, cold touch of your dangle chain necklace, plain silver cross interlocked at the center of it, at this angle it nudges his nose with every thrust, a dainty piece of jewelry that he always took the time to tuck behind your neck—he’s never seen you without it.

He thinks for a moment, considering his action before he’s reaching to tuck it behind your head.

But, your hand stops him, placing it back center before you’re reaching behind to unclasp the necklace from your body, dangling it over the empty cushion beside you.

“It’s okay,” You can sense Joel’s confusion, worry— “I’m starting to figure things out for myself,” It’s intimate, the way you’re talking to him now, voice barely above a whisper as his hips rock gently to keep a slow place, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, “besides…the things I want you to do to me, it’s blasphemy, really.”

Joel snorts at that, finding the sudden burst of energy to snake his hands under your thighs, lifting you up slightly as he scoots himself further down the couch, feet planted flat on the ground and allowing you proper leverage to use his body just the way you desire.

It takes very little time to work him up, a deep growl suppressed behind clenched teeth as your fingers dig into his cheek where your hand is still tight over his mouth, riding him with a clear determination, his eyes softening and pleading—he’s right there and you can see it.

His eyes flutter, hand squeezing and kneading at your thigh in silent prayer. 

Rich, you think. Maybe you’ve been worshiping wrong your entire life.

Your climax comes slowly, alongside his. It’s quiet, a long moment of drawn out sighs poured into each other’s skin, his achy groan a light reprieve to the moment as you climb off of him.

“Staying or going?” He asks after you’ve stood, blanket wrapped around your body.

“Depends,” Your finger dangle in front of his face, watching as he works his jeans back up his thighs, belt sitting unbuckled in his lap, “your room or mine?”

Joel nods with a smile, nudging you toward the hall.

–

Joel’s dangling the silver necklace in his hand as you exit the bathroom, hair damp and dressed in only a shirt—his shirt, climbing onto his bed while he approaches with an extended hand.

You take it silently, passing it off to his bedside table without a word.

“So, when do we have the talk?” You ask curiously, ripping the bandaid off immediately.

“Not tonight, if you don’t want to.”

Your brow pinches together as he slips under the blanket beside you, throwing the cover back to beckon you underneath. You oblige, sliding onto your knees to lean against his chest, forearm covering his abdomen as you rest your chin on your arm.

“I was thinking about starting deconstruction therapy,” You admit, scratching a fingernail at the patchy and fading emblem on his shirt, “It’s…silly, I know. But, I think it might help. I’m doubting—well, everything. I just need someone to talk to. A professional, I mean.”

“That really what you want?” Joel asks curiously, his fingers wrapping around your wrist gently, rubbing his thumb into the skin, “It ain’t because of me, is it?”

“I think I’ve been questioning things long before you, or even Tommy. I’m telling you because—I don’t know, I guess I want to hold myself accountable. So I don’t chicken out. Besides, you seem pretty good at keeping secrets.”

Joel shakes his head slightly in amusement, heaving out a long sigh as his eyes turn toward the ceiling, still favoring your touch as he continues to rub slow circles into your skin.

“I…also think you should get some help,” You add gently, “talk to someone about Sarah—doesn’t have to be me. I mean, Tommy is terrified to mention her, and thinks you’ll blow up on him. You’re…you’re an alcoholic, you know that? My mom was too, before she met Tommy.”

Joel keeps quiet, chewing at his bottom lip. It wasn’t a horrible sign, so you continue.

“She hid it really well, you…not so much.”

“So, holdin’ each other accountable then, huh?” Joel inquires, eyebrow raised.

“I can forgive your lapse in judgement when it came to me—the sex is…good,” You pause, considering your words, “really…really fucking good, but I think we’re using it to avoid things.”

“Think you can fix me?” Joel asks, with a tone of honesty in his voice, “Sweetheart, I’ve been broken for a long time.”

“Mend,” You emphasize, “you can heal—so can I. I think we both owe it to ourselves”

His hand engulfed the side of your face, the hot press of his skin against your cheek as you smiled against the touch, watching as he slowly returned the gesture.

“I think we do, sweetheart.”

I’ll try, for you—he thinks silently but doesn’t say. It doesn’t matter that his fatal attraction had turned into something of lasting admiration, because that would never work. 

But, for you, he’d try.

[copperbadge]

This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

[sabertoothwalrus]

I'm going to think out loud about the dungeon meshi ages for a sec

I'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my existing knowledge, and fact checking is difficult because there is A LOT of contentious research out there.

First of all, I think a lot of people come at this from a modern lens, forgetting the context that this is fantasy medieval era. this is fiction. on top of that, this is specifically Ryoko Kui's understanding of medieval era aging. plus fantasy. So before anyone comes at me with a bunch of 'ermmmm actualy's just consider that I don't really care and also it might not matter in this context lol

as far as the "age of maturity" assigned for each race, something I don't see many people talk about is that "teenagers" are a fairly recent concept. For a long time, you were either considered A Kid or Not A Kid. but this doesn't necessarily mean kids were more/less developed then, just our cultural expectations for certain age groups have changed.

Laios says the age of maturity for tallmen is 16. I don't think that means 16 year olds in the dungeon meshi universe are necessarily "more mature" than modern 16 year olds, but moreso that they have more responsibilities. However, things like medicine, smoking, drinking, sun exposure, physical activity, etc all affect age, so it's possible that developmentally they're closer to modern 18 year olds? Izutsumi is 17 (less than two weeks from turning 18, actually), and very much acts like a modern 17 year old.

The age of maturity for half-foots is 14. Chilchuck was 13 when he got married and had his first two children. Even though, at age 29, he's the equivalent of a modern 50 year old, I don't think he was That much more developed at 13 than a tallman. I think if half-foot 14 is equal to tallman 16, then Chilchuck was Pretty Damn Young for a parent LMAO. Even if you're generous and say tallman 16 is a modern 18, he still would've been younger than that.

The long-lived races are interesting. Marcille is obviously a unique case, and not a lot of this applies to her. We do know what Senshi was like as a minor (miner, lol), and he seemed like a modern 15ish, considering he was 36 and dwarf maturity is 40. I think it'd be really interesting to delve into how a culture functions with people being developmentally adolescent for soooooo long. Imagine middle school lasting 20 years. that would fucking suck. I suppose it makes sense why long-lived races are so patronizing.

Moving onto lifespans, I want to emphasize that they're average lifespans. Even in the manga, they say some half-foots live to 100, it's just rare. So it's less that a tallman 60 year old is "older" than a modern 60 year old, it's that it's easier to keep people alive for longer nowadays. Modern medicine is a BIG contributor. Dental health as well, considering how much your health is affected by your diet (and how much the action of chewing alone aids in digestion). Curious to know what the FUCK elven dentistry is like.

It also makes me wonder if half-foots would have a longer average lifespan if they weren't like, used for bait and treated so poorly, but half-foot 29 does seem to be middle-aged for half-foots. so who knows!

In that vein, I don't know if I can see Mithrun quite making it to 400 😬 like, his experience as a dungeon lord took a lot out of him quite literally, and he's doing exceptionally well despite it! I imagine he'd eventually start to develop a lot of heart problems if he doesn't have them already. Perhaps early-onset dementia. His memory seems still quite intact (he corrects Kabru on his story's accuracy) and he doesn't act like, lobotomized. He doesn't seem forgetful or confused, and he has a sense of humor/sarcasm still. It's mostly his task initiation that's been affected.

I almost want to say that mana affinity could affect long-lived races' lifespans, except dwarves have very poor tolerance for mana, so it's probably not that.

okay anyway I didn't really have a point to this post so I'm just gonna end my rambling here

[russellsppttemplates]

A blurb for Max Verstappen where he does his best to keep you and the kids away from the Drive to Survive netflix crew but wants you around the new docuseries being filmed about Max and his life off the track

"Netflix people are going to be in our garage tomorrow morning", Max said as he came out of the ensuite bathroom, careful with the noise he was making as the kids were in the living room area of the hotel room, the sofas turning into beds so they could sleep near you still despite the half wall that created a sense of separation between the spaces.

"So we'll just join you for the afternoon then", you added, showing him your understood what he meant, "have you spoken to them about us not wanting their faces shown in the show? You know how they sometimes record the paddock and other people show. I know it's inevitable sometimes, mas maybe blurr it out or something", you tried.

"Yes, I spoke to them this morning. They seemed understanding enough, although there was the usual comment of why and if they could do this or that", Max shrugged, getting in the bed next to you, "what did you tell them?", you wondered.

"Didn't let them get too far. They already know where we stand with you and the kids showing up, so there's not need to beat around the bush again and again. They're butthurt because you appear on the docuseries, but it sounds like it's a their problem and not ours, so I'm not too fussed. And neither should you be", he smiled, kissing your cheek and letting you snuggle up to him.

.

"Are you ready, Y/N?", one of the producers asked as they arranged the camera on your car so it could catch both you and the person asking the questions.

"I'm going to pick up the kids from school now, they're at a very good age now where it's not hard getting them to leave the house in the morning because they love going to school, but also not too hard to get them to leave school because they also love being at home and know they'll see their friends tomorrow", you chuckled, remembering Finn's tantrum when you wanted to take him home and he wanted to stay in school because he wanted to keep paying with his friends whose parents were running a little bit late to pick them up too.

"Is it hard juggling all of this with Max being away for some good chunks of time every now and again?", she asked as you stopped at a red light.

"It isn't as hard as before", you reasoned, "when they were younger and their needs were different, I relied a lot on my mother in law and my parents whenever Max wasn't home, which was really mostly weekends because he arranged the schedule and RedBull made it work. But now they're older and they're at a stage where they are a little bit more independent and, honestly, we just take each day as it comes and go from there", you smiled.

"How is parenting along with Max?", she wondered, "you know, there are many moments in parenting where you think 'this is definitely not the way we should do this but it works for now so we just stick to it' - and you really hope for the best in these cases -, but last week we both went to a parent-teacher meeting and both teachers said that the kids were doing well, they were kind, empathetic, respectful. - And what is there more to ask, you know? - we both got out of the meeting and we're like 'yeah, this parenting thing is going just fine',", you smiled, "obviously, we got home to our little girl having a meltdown about not being able to fly, but really? It's an amazing journey parenting with Max, even when he has to tell our daughter that that's not something humans do and let her mourn a capacity she never had", you chuckled.

(Thank you for your submission ✨️)

[coff-in]

HIIIIIIIII ITS ⭐️ ANON AGAIN I'd like to request a older sister (2-1 year older than Andrew and shes like tall asf) that has the personality of omori from the game OMORI (if you dont whos Omori/ his personality: like doesn't speak for shit and is surprisingly patient with hooligans despite his anger issues) who also likes to gardening.

Ashley would probably give her some silly ass nickname having to due with flowers. Andrew would TRY to be chill around her since he has intrusive thoughts about both girls. (I AM NOT LETTING HIM LIVE THAT DOWN)

But OLDER SISTER READER would probably only put up with Ashley's attitude/lies and no one's else's. For example later in their life when they are sacrificing their parents, Renee would try to bribe Andrew and Reader into ditching Ashley but then Reader speaks up for the first time in her life, only to say "shut the fuck up, you bitch"

Heres more info on older sister Reader:

Her gift is Altered sight, as in she sees the world differently. Like she can see if people are lying or their true intention. So that's why when Renee was talking abt ditching Ashley she said shut the fuck up because she saw her true intention (whatever it was anyways).

Her bunny color would be red

Also her weapon(s) would be her bare hands, gardening sheers, or a hacksaw

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk ⭐️

notes from coff-in: LET ANDREW DATE HIS SISTERS PLEASE!!! i've never played omori but i remember watching manlybadasshero play it during the quarantine. kinda ran out of steam at the end (it's late and i'm very tired, my apologies ⭐️ anon)

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is older than andrew by two years, incest

mr and mrs graves loved how quiet [reader] was as a child. she didn't make any noise, didn't talk at all, and was overall easy to overlook. the perfect child! why not have another? when andy came out the cursed womb, he was the same and probably learned to keep quiet too via [reader], his big sister. what's the harm in one more child? mrs graves would then learn the harm in having another child that is NOT quiet. leyley came in and couldn't be as quiet or put away as her older siblings, but thankfully this isn't [reader]'s first rodeo in taking care of a child... she's not good at it though (which makes sense cause she's fucking four years old)

andy and leyley are still very close together, especially leyley to andy since she's closer to andy's age (and goes to school with him longer) than [reader], but they both look up to [reader] as a mother figure. leyley had trouble dealing with [reader]'s quietness/muteness but her patience for leyley makes up for all the frustration she goes through. she definitely expects [reader] to pay more attention to her because she's the baby of the family, their little baby sister. how is she supposed to know shit if no one is there to teach her? how is she supposed to feel safe if no one is watching her? damn, she fucked up breakfast again even though andy taught her how not even a day ago, thankfully [reader] is there to make it for them, right? andy doesn't mind [reader]'s quietness. he's so used to leyley's loud and impulsive nature that having someone who's quieter and more mindful is appreciated. especially since she's older, andy sees her as the perfect role model to look up to.

i doubt the apartment they lived in had a yard but they do have a balcony, so i think [reader] would grow herbs and plants that can grow in pots (like strawberries and tomato plants). andy and leyley would pick up some things from watching [reader] take care of them (though they might've killed a plant once from forgetting to water it). [reader] would try her best to teach andy and leyley about taking care of the plants, what they're used for, how to prepare them into meals, etc and it would give them (specifically andy) such an oedipus complex. having [reader] comfort them when they're mad, staying patient and calm when they get frustrated and yell at her, hugging them when they're sad, UGH just being such a good mother figure and a big sister. andy loves hugging her, feeling safe in her arms. THEY WOULD BOTH LOVE HEARING HER HUMMING WHEN SHE DOES STUFF AROUND THE HOUSE

as they grow up, they both get very protective over [reader]. she can't date other people! it's a tad bit hard to enforce that since [reader] is two-four years older and usually aren't attending the same school as them for very long. they usually try to make it as CLEAR as possible to her current partner that they do not like them. andrew is very passive aggressive towards them while ashley is just... aggressive. [reader] gets mad at them the first and second time, enough for andrew and ashley to feel a little bit bad, but eventually [reader] just stops trying to date people (or at least bring them over to the apartment). she can't be too mad at them, they're probably a little bit scared to share their big sister with a stranger...

quarantine isn't so bad to them. [reader]'s little balcony garden helps them not starve for a little bit longer than canon, but not by much. andrew and ashley are both grateful to [reader] for trying to keep them all alive, but it's not a burden that she has to shoulder on her own. seeing the cultist, killing the wardens, escaping the apartment-- all very stressful things that they help [reader] through. andrew sleeps with [reader] some nights and holds her close. maybe even snuggling closer to her chest... after all, [reader] holds some power over him, no? she's older, if she is uncomfortable with it then she can just tell him to stop. he likes being the middle child. having the power and control over ashley but being watched over and taught by [reader], having both that dominate and submissive dynamic with his sisters. would definitely call [reader] mommy after they kill their parents

i find it kinda funny that the demon gives ashley a clairvoyant trinket and [reader] altered sight but doesn't give andrew anything. poor guy. i think [reader]'s true sight would honestly alter the dynamic of the graves' sibling relationship. if she can see the true intentions of people/seeing if they're lying than surely she would be able to tell when andrew is holding himself back and repressing his affection or can see ashley's overwhelming insecurity. would she play into these feelings? anyway, andrew and their parents were shocked when [reader] actually spoke when in the basement, especially when it was against mrs graves? like omg... boss moves, you know?

"shut the fuck up."

"h-huh?"

andrew kneeling down to threaten mrs graves with his cleaver, "[reader] and i don't like it when you talk about ashley like that."

----

coff-in

[secondratefiction]

That 70's Show Drabble request: It's your and your twin brother Eric's 16th birthday, kitty and red usually remember but they forget yours this year, your boyfriend Hyde notices and gives you one of the best birthdays ever, including you two both having sex for the first time. Hyde also does a little cussing at red And kitty for forgetting their youngest daughter's special day.

'ello my love, always nice to see you around 😁

Afraid I might have gone a little off the brief for this one, but hopefully it still hits at least most of what you wanted 💜

(Ok, yes, timeline wise, Hyde was living with the Foreman's before he got the car, but this is basically the fandom versions of "...who's like is it anyway?" where the stories are made up and canon events don't matter, so... just roll with it)

You're blaming Eric for this.

He was the one who decided he didn't want to share a birthday party with you any more

Now, granted, you had agreed, mostly out of anger and annoyance with him in the moment - "Fine! Why would I want another stupid Star Wars themed party anyway!" - But you hadn't thought it would end up here...

The decision had been made after the disastrous aftermath of your last combined party, and it was something that had slipped your mind over the last year.

Of course in the month before, Eric was sure to bring it up, and remind your parents that you were doing separate celebrations... although, you weren't expecting exactly how that ended up working out.

Your mother had seemed to pull out all the stops for this year "Sixteen is such a special age after all..."

There were pancakes and all of Eric's favorites at breakfast... only Eric's though

And you tried not to let that get to you, but you didn't even get so much as a happy birthday out of any of them... not even your Dad which stung quite a bit considering that it was no secret that he had a tendency to favor you over Eric and even Lori.

But you sucked it up, put on a brave face, and tried to act like it wasn't a big deal... which you were actually pretty good at -

At least until you got sent down to the basement to collect a few things for your mom. That's when Hyde spotted you...

He sat up from the couch looking like he was struggling to wake up. Which, in all fairness, he was, "Hey, little Foreman." You rolled your eyes at him, leaning on the ack of the couch, "Did you sleep here again?" "Yeah." He nodded, leaning into kiss you. "You're gonna get caught..." He only smirked up at you with a shrug, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Standing up, he vaulted over the back of the couch to pull you into a proper kiss that honestly made you a little weak in the knees, leaning into him more as he pulled away, "Happy Birthday baby."

And just like that the damn broke...

You let out a strangled, broken laugh, quickly burying your face in his chest to try and hide the fact tears had immediately sprung up, and that you were losing the fight to keep them contained.

To say Hyde was caught off guard would be the under statement of the century. He almost panicked as he scrambled trying to figure out what was wrong, what he'd said to set you off.

All of this despite your poor attempts to assure him it was nothing. "Hey, no. Look at me," He pulled you back from him so you couldn't keep hiding, and waiting until you actually looked up to meet his eyes, "If you are this upset, it is not 'nothing'. Now, tell me what happened."

You tried to fight it, keep your mouth shut, but there was an intensity in his gaze that left no room for argument... he wasn't going to let this go until you told him, so you did, laying out all the events of the morning, "... I can't believe they fucking forgot my birthday."

For a moment Hyde's expression was unreadable and you had just started to ask what he was thinking when he grabbed you by your elbow and started walking you towards the door "Wait! Steven, what are you - I'm supposed to be grabbing a box for my mom." "Don't worry about it, I'll get it."

He walked you straight out of the garage, putting you in the Camino, still very confused before he turned around a disappeared back down the basement steps.

He grabbed the box you had indicated and made his way up to the kitchen. Smiling tightly and nodding in greeting when Kitty noticed him. "I didn't realize you were here Steven." "I just came by to pick up Y/N... plans for her birthday, you know."

He took the moment of realization and shock on her face as a chance to drop the box on the table and make a quick exit out the sliding glass door.

He was sliding into the driver's seat by the time Kitty could be heard shouting for Red inside the house, throwing his arm behind your head as he looked to back the car out of the drive

"Ok..." You said slowly as he turned around to put the car in drive, pulling away from your house, "So what are we doing?"

"Don't know yet, that's up to you," He said, smirking at you, letting his hand come to rest on your knee, "Tell me what you want to do, and I'll make it happen."

You couldn't help but laugh a little bit, almost beaming at him as you put your own hand over his, "Anything I want?" "Anything."

[jasminerva]

What kind of father would Nagumo be?

Saw this magnificent fanart of Papa!Gumo by GOOSANG04 and got inspo!

This is Part 1 of the Papa!Gumo series!

gn!reader co-parent

Check out Part 2 here: You v. Nagumo and Toddler

Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist!

Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

Banner img from Gakuen Babysitters by Tokeino Hari.

If you manage to get this man to settle down AND have a kid with you, he (and your kid) is going to make your life a living hell and heaven.

Nagumo would be an unpredictable but fun dad, always coming up with spontaneous activities to keep his kid happy and entertained.

He'd pull small pranks on and with his child, like hiding their favourite toy or sneaking up on them, just to see them laugh when they catch him.

You know peekaboo? Think to the EXTREME! Gumo covering his kid's eyes and VOILA he's a whole 'nother person! (Warning: this may or may not traumatize your child, like, have you seen the videos where babies cry after their dads just shave their beards???) Soon, I'm sure the kid will get used to it and can tell when their dad is disguised better than you can.

Despite his carefree attitude, he'd be fiercely protective, always keeping an eye on his kiddo from the shadows to make sure they're safe.

He'd make teaching self-defence a game, showing his child how to be quick and nimble without making it feel like a strict lesson.

Nagumo would struggle with deep emotional conversations, but he'd always be a good listener when his child wanted to talk, especially if they were feeling down. He'd be on their level (much to your chagrin.)

On that note, you most likely will have to be the 'mean' to his 'fun' parent. Don't even get me started on the 'birds and the bees' talk. He might even volunteer to do it, but I wouldn't count on him to do it properly.

Physical affection would be a big thing for him—playfully ruffling his child's hair, giving them gentle pats on the back, blowing raspberries on their cheeks and bellies, or even picking them up for a hug and swinging them around. Just keep an eye out in case he starts throwing the kid in the air (you can trust him to always catch them, but you don't want either of them getting too carried away).

He'd probably joke around with other parents and show up at school events unpredictably, causing a stir with his antics, but always making his child feel proud and loved.

Nagumo would encourage his child to be independent, letting them figure things out on their own while secretly making sure they're safe every step of the way.

When it comes to advice, he'd drop bits of wisdom disguised as offhand remarks, teaching his child important life lessons in the most unconventional ways.

He wouldn't follow a strict parenting style, instead preferring to give his kiddo the freedom to explore the world, knowing he'd always be there if they needed him.

If his kid ever felt embarrassed or shy about something, Gumo would immediately do the same thing, just to make them laugh and feel better about it.

He would tell white lies / unrealistic jokes to his kid because he believes children and their innocence should be protected (and maybe teased for their naïveté). "Santa is fosho real!" "I went to Area 51 a while back!" "If you eat your carrots, you can see in the dark like me!"

Nagumo would spoil tf out of his kid--whether it's toys or sweets. He'd be responsible for all their potential cavities, but he'd also ensure the kiddo brushes their teeth every time (maybe even using one of those fun songs to count the time, etc). The kid would never think of it as a chore with him around.

When the kid is young-young, like still a toddler/preschool-aged and did things to get them in trouble, Gumo would get scolded along with them (but mostly him, because he should know better and it's probably his own dang influence). When the kid is school-aged, they will get scolded equally (except you can withhold a lot more from Nagumo lmao). I'm going to post a mini scenario of this one within the next few days! Stay tuned!!! (Part 2: You v. Nagumo and Toddler up!)

Thank you for brainstorming with me, Memi (@dearsecretlover)! The spoiled rotten with toys and scolding were just 🤌 the best additions!

[halfagone]

A Mandalorian Halfa Jedi?

I am thinking... about my Danny Phantom x Star Wars AU again. I mentioned this in the Haunting Heroes discord server, but imagine this:

Danny gets lost in the Star Wars universe, maybe they're part of the same universe, maybe not. We know that Earth technically exists there, so it's possible. Nonetheless, Danny gets lost and is eventually picked up by the Jedi. It is during the Clone Wars era, at the height of the war. Ectoplasm either functions the same as the Force out in larger space, or it easily passes off as the Force. Therefore, Danny is considered Force-sensitive and brought to the Jedi council.

He's far too old, older than even Anakin was, but he already displays some skill with the blade (thanks to his mom's training), and he's far too powerful with the Force to leave for the Sith or Dark Side users running about to find him. Those like Count Dooku or Asajj Ventress or whoever Dooku's master is (and, depending on the timeline, Maul and his brother Savage as well).

It's decided that Obi Wan should train him, since he did well with Anakin despite Anakin's older age for a youngling and lack of familiarity with Jedi customs and culture. As well as Obi Wan's own young age as a Padawan himself at the time. Surely, Obi Wan could whip him into shape and they need all the help they can get on the field.

Anakin does not like Danny at first. Not at all. He might have joked all he liked beforehand about Obi Wan getting another padawan, but seeing it happen is an entirely different experience. Danny gets along well with Obi Wan, with his dry, witty humor and his tendency for unorthodox strategy. Worse still, Ahsoka likes Danny. These two are peas in a pod, partners in crime. It feels like he's been forgotten and replaced and by someone seemingly better.

And then one day, when the 212th and the 501st are stationed together, he finds Danny shaking with night terrors, the Dark Side so strong in him Anakin is literally freezing from the cold. It's only then that he understands Danny a little bit better, and sees himself in this kid. Danny fights the Dark Side within him just like he does, and he never lets it consume him. Maybe for once, he can learn a little something from this kid too, and not let it overwhelm him.

And here is the part where I realized a golden opportunity:

What if the Jedi think Danny is a Mandalorian that was cast out for being Force-sensitive? Danny has an affinity for weapons beyond the blade, like cannons and guns and snipers. He talks about how his family taught him to use these weapons, that he's known this all his life. He talks about how his family wears suits all the time and hardly ever takes them off. He talks about always being afraid to reveal his powers to his parents, and how ultimately he ran away because of them.

Oh all the scenarios that could come out of this~

But now I'm also thinking about how strong Danny would feel in the Force. How much Danny could do on the battlefield because now he doesn't have to hold back. Droids might have more intelligence than a lot of sentients give them credit for, but if it's between the very alive, flesh and bone, clones of the Grand Republic Army and the Separatists' metal droids, Danny is absolutely going to be ruthless if it means the clones are safe.

Danny can literally control the weather. Imagine what happens when Danny creates an electrical storm for the first time to take down an enemy starship and the clones just look between themselves, whispering about how: "I didn't know Jedi could do that." "Is that how the Force works?" "Kriff if I know-"

And that's another thing! Clones! Danny would be absolutely appalled that so many clones were created and their freedom at the end of the Clones Wars is still up in the air.

It also ties beautifully with his love for space and now he's living the dream! Except space isn't what he thought it would be. And there are planets out here that have barbaric standards. It's the adventure of a lifetime! But there's a part of him that still wants to go home.

Just- all the possibilities and shenanigans this could bring. ✨

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Could be a little off-canon for some characters, lots of plot, slight angst, Miguel is an helicopter mom, reader just wants some friends :(

a/n: ok. i didn't realize how much i wanted to put into this chapter so spicy stuff is coming NEXT chapter. promith. i've already written some of it. anyway, i'm glad y'all are enjoying my O'Hara content. I hope this lives up to your expectations lmfao

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. You regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. This is what you've been doing since he swept you away.

w/c: 2.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

So being “Spider-Woman” turned out to be harder than you thought. It’s not all swinging from and shooting webs like you imagined. Apparently, there’s a spider-specific physical regimen you’re required to keep up with. Every day. 

You’re almost convinced that you’re being hazed into the spider-verse community because you are yet to see anyone else doing upside-down web squats on a 100-story building. Not to mention the life-threatening training simulations you were thrown into as soon as you arrived in Nueva York. 

“They can’t hurt you, Kid. They’re holograms.” 

“Yeah, that’s what they want you to think O’Hara, but my ass has been kicked enough to prove differently.”

“Alright, well they can’t kill you.”

Miguel has been “training” you for the last few months to become the best Spider-Woman you can be, pushing you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. Though these days, this “training” is actually just him telling Parker to drill you in whatever he thinks will work. 

O’Hara attempted to do it himself for like three days, and it turns out he’s too impatient to take in a spider apprentice or even be in a room where you do anything but exactly what he commands. 

You should’ve expected it. 

Sure, Miguel is a naturally grumpy man, but you swear he has it out for you. He literally tenses whenever you enter the room and makes sure to barely meet your eyes when he’s forced to talk to you.

Actually, ever since you were dropped in the middle of Spider-Central, O’Hara has been ignoring you. Treating you like the plague. Always making the excuse that he’s too busy with things that are far more important than anything you’d ever have to say. As if he wasn’t the one who forced you to come with him in the first place…

It’s not fair. He was literally all you had. 

Months ago, he showed you a side of him, the one that convinced you that he actually brought you here for a reason, but now he can’t even look at you. Sure, you’re a particularly slow learner, and one that never really liked PE, but you deserve some slack. You left everything for him – for them. 

Meeting people who’ve gone through similar circumstances as you was quite interesting, to say the least. And it doesn’t stop at people either. Spider cars, dinosaurs, and cats were just the beginning. 

You’ve made a few friends. There’s Gwen, a 15 (or was it 16?) -year-old who mostly talks about her friend Miles, music, and…uh, Miles. It’s sweet how she gushes on about some guy without fully realizing how into him she is. Miles sounds great, really great, but you’ll probably never get to meet him because of the number of restrictions placed on your watch. Fucking O’Hara and his parental controls. 

Gwen is cool, she plays the drums and can do a bunch of acrobatic things that you’d never even attempt, but she’s also almost a half-decade younger than you. There’s only so much you can talk about before you start getting homesick. Of course, despite her young age, she’s still given more responsibilities and missions than you. If Miguel has one hobby, it would be undermining everything you do. 

“She’s been in the game longer than you have.” He always makes that excuse. 

And you always counter it with: “But I’m older! I can do more than just scream for help!”

“This isn’t a discussion.” That honestly might be his favorite phrase to shut you up these days. “You’ll be called on when you’re ready, Kid.” And that. 

“I am ready. And stop calling me that. I’m not a kid, I’m 20 years old!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

There’s also Peter Parker, your reluctant coach. He’s…something else. Sure, he’s your friend, but he’s more like a substitute teacher and crazy uncle type of guy. Usually, he listens to everything Miguel says, acting like a glorified babysitter, but sometimes, he’s up to bend the rules on some things.

Once he let you visit his dimension, claiming you’d need some real-life experience as a “friendly-neighborhood spider-woman”. You spent that day chasing down petty robbers and helping old ladies cross the road. Sure, it was a small field trip, but that was only the third dimension you’d traveled to at the time. 

Parker is also always trying to get you to hold his daughter whenever she comes to work claiming that “it’ll be good for your mental health, trust me.” Of course, for Parker, every day is “bring-your-kid-to-train-the-new-spider-woman-day”. And really, you don’t mind holding her, but not when you’re in the middle of sparing 5 of Doc Ocks tentacles. 

The baby is adorable, but you do worry about how she crawls up the walls. Parker doesn’t seem fazed. Actually, neither does O’Hara. 

Sometimes you wonder if O’Hara wants kids one day. He certainly handles Mayday like a pro, letting her crawl over his shoulders and paperwork. Would he possibl– No, actually, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, because he left you. He’s not – couldn’t even be an option. – Anyway…

Parker and Mayday are nice company and the only real constants in your life, but you really just want to be a consistent part of the team. You don’t know how much longer you can spend your days doing swinging drills and spider crunches (don’t even ask). But Parker has actually been your rock these past months, to give him credit. He’s one of the few people that makes you feel like you belonged in this distorted array of spiders and dimensions.

Then there’s Hobie. 

The first time you met him you probably had literal stars in your eyes. Donned with a spiked vest and several facial piercings, he caught your attention right away. He catches everyone’s attention. Even his suit is cooler than everyone else’s with a spiked mohawk that surely gets in the way.

Unfortunately, just as you were hoping to take on the Brit as your mentor for all things spider, he was decidedly off-limits, courtesy of O’Hara. Apparently, his rebellious nature and brash energy make him a “bad influence”. 

“Seriously? You should be glad that I’m taking a bigger interest in my training.” You have your hands posted up on your hips, trying to make yourself look bigger than you actually are. Damn, O’Hara and his domineering presence!

He rolls his eyes openly, genuinely already done with the conversation. “Yeah…your ‘training,’ sure.” 

“What is that supposed to mean!” You practically whine it out.

“Don’t get distracted gatita, just do as you’re told.”

“Ok, what does that mean? I don’t speak Italian.”

“That was Spanish dumbass.”

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from hanging out with him anyway (though he’s not around as much anymore). Who knew making friends as Spider-Person would be so hard. You’d think you’d have a lot in common with everyone around you, but really, you’re all alone. Sometimes you think the spiders actually resent you deep down because you’re the only one that has never lost anything. Or had anything to lose in the first place. 

For now, you’re just moving through a sea of spiders, trying to catch a glimpse of what you’re supposed to be doing here. Trying to figure out why you were chosen over the infinite other versions of you in the multiverse.

—

So far you’ve been on 2 and a half missions. The half was when you were forcibly sent home and effectively grounded for a week. Apparently, talking to civilians while standing guard is prohibited, even when they’re selling dip’n’dots. What? It was a long ass mission. And it was hot! 

This one is your official third mission. It’s quite simple, in theory. Just travel to Earth-275A, infiltrate a tech lab, pick up some – worryingly volatile – equipment, and go home. Easy. 

Except, it didn’t exactly go that way. 

It’s just you, Miguel, Gwen, and Jess on this mission. You and Jess were placed on lookout duty (you on the roof and Jess on the ground with her bike), while Miguel and Gwen broke in and out of the building. It was all running smoothly, each spider occasionally muttering quietly through the radio whenever their positionings changed. Otherwise, it was silent. And frankly, a bit boring. 

You idly kicked around some pebbles that somehow found their way onto the roof of this tall ass building, sometimes smacking them against the half wall separating you from falling a thousand feet downwards. You were actually dying to get back to HQ because you briefly spotted Hobie talking to Parker and Mayday before you had to go. He’s been quite absent lately, and you want to show off some of the new moves you learned this week.

Then, there was suddenly action. 

A huge explosion surges out the right side of the building that O’Hara and Stacy were infiltrating. That mission plan was not kidding when they described the ‘volatility’ of the shit inside of those supply crates. Deep creaking and smashing objects follow the blast. You watch as the tallest building in the city starts to tilt. Shit, the explosion must’ve taken out some of the support beams.

You hear Miguel yelling your name through your earpiece, as well as heavy breathing and crumbling concrete in the background. 

“Y-yes? Copy–”

“You and Gwen collect the crate and get out of here. I already called for a portal. Jess and I will get surrounding civilians away from danger.” 

“Understood, sir.” You don’t usually call him anything like ‘sir’, but the stakes are high and complete compliance is needed at this moment. 

“Crate is located on the top floor, Stacy is already there waiting for my word.” You briefly shake yourself out, mentally preparing yourself to scale the larger building in front of you.

With a quick fwp, you attach your web to the nearly as tall building next to your target to give yourself some leverage. You jump without even giving yourself time to think about it, tugging slightly at the web, making sure to collect as much kinetic energy as possible. You release the web when you get to the highest point and spit out another web to get you to the top floor of the building. Luckily the blast took out the windows so you could easily enter the floor. 

There, Gwen stands next to a crate with several scientists and guards nicely pasted onto the walls with perfectly placed webs on each limb and over their abdomens. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“It’s been 30 seconds!”

“Relax, I’m teasing.” She shoots out a couple of webs and connects them to the crate. “Here, help me out with this.” You follow her movements, pulling at your webs slightly to get a good evaluation of its weight. Surprisingly, it moves quite easily, almost three inches from your soft tug.

“Why’re we both doing this when it weighs 100 lbs. We have super strength.”

“I dunno, Miguel just gave us the orders. There’s probably a reason. It doesn’t really matter.” You frown realizing you could’ve been down there helping O’Hara save actual lives but instead, you were ordered to assist a teenager on a one-person job. “The portal is opening in a few seconds on the roof of the building behind us.” Gwen doesn’t seem phased. “We can just swing it with us.”

“Isn’t this shit going to blow up if we move it too harshly?”

“Not when it’s in this protective crate.” She steps closer to the broken window, mentally measuring and planning out the escape route. “That explosion earlier was from an open container.” You hum, still torn over leaving Gwen to do the delivery so you can help people get out of the way faster. “You ready then?” She’s been watching you. Clearly, your thoughts are painted on your face.

You nod briefly, “Let’s go.” Together you take each side of the crate and use your other arms to swing yourselves over to the portal that magically appears. This time, that odd purring sound of the portal is completely blocked out by the chaos going on around you. Somehow the building has still only tilted a little bit since the explosion. 

As Gwen pushes the crate into the gateway, you look down at the streets, watching as Miguel and Jess work impeccably together as they save hundreds of civilians from falling debris and the inevitable demolition of the building.

Then you look back a Gwen, who’s ready to head home. Then you look down at them again. 

Then your eye catches on a red sedan sheltering a terrified family that sits under the chaos.

Gwen catches your eye. “Don’t.” 

“I have to.” 

“Migu–”

“Would do the same.”

“--Will mur-der me.” You sigh, but quickly shoot a couple of webs downwards without looking. Gwen has her arms folded, sharing that unamused expression that Jess loves to sport. Her feet are now temporarily stuck to the floor. You’re sure she could get out of it in a second, but you can tell, she’s not going to stop you. “Don’t die.”

Right before jumping off the ledge, you send her a cheesy smirk, “Me? Never.”

----

Taglist: @deputy-videogamer @danaeaurelia @reuxxi

[doberbutts]

Feminist theory is not the same as feminist activism, which is what I specificied in my ask, intentionally. There is feminist theory about men's issues (yes Bell Hooks is by far the most famous theorist in this space), and that is good, but it is not the same as activism to improve men's conditions in the here and now. I wanted to give a different perspective, and have a discussion about something that I feel is a problem that has lead to and continues to lead to a lack of progress for men. I mean, the other ask you got saying thst feminism persistently centers men just by talking about our issues, that proves my point. That is an incredibly common view. Not even working towards solving men's problems, just talking about them occasionally is considered too much. There is an obvious solution to that, which I said previously. Regardless, I am and will continue to believe in the cause of fighting to improve things for both women and men, because we all deserve better. Anyway, I won't bother you anymore, but I hope you know this was written in good faith about something that is important to me.

Theory informs activism, so if you want to see feminist activism that does what I'm talking about, find the feminists talking about what I'm talking about.

Respectfully, despite referencing the other ask, you seem to have not read it if your stance is still "what has feminist activism done for men", because I gave pretty direct examples there.

But you're right. That sort of feminism is harder to find especially nowadays. A lot of people's feminism regards men as "ewwww boys are icky" and "men are 100% solely responsible for all of women's problems". Which was the entire point of my post that started this conversation. It's also compounded by the fact that a lot of times this doesn't look as big and loud as rallies and marches, and so it gets ignored. In reality, the feminist activism that follows the theory I'm describing looks like parents teaching their sons that gentleness and femininity is not bad. Dads who wear nail polish and tutus to support their sons' interests. Boys being encouraged to watch and read the "girl books" and "girl movies". Dads who do not abandon their sons' need for physical affection as they age out of fear of homosexuality.

It looks like restructuring the ways we look at sexual assault and rape so it doesn't automatically exclude the most common way men are attacked. It looks like teaching young men that they do not need to take abuse from a romantic partner or family member on the chin just to be a man. It looks like teaching men that "masculinity" does not need to be defined by stoicism and that the concept of "manning up" is harmful. It looks like teaching boys that there are ways to communicate affection that aren't violent or sexual in nature. It looks like teaching teenagers that playful ribbing is one thing, but tearing your friends down all the time so you can be the biggest man on the block is toxic behavior, and only leads to more isolation because all your friends learn to be mean to each other.

It teaches young men that pleasuring your partner involves more than just a penis, and sometimes doesn't even require a penis at all. It teaches them that their worth is far less in the length of their shaft or the hardness of their muscles or the number on the scale, but far more how they treat others. It teaches them that height and beard length and shoe size and how much alcohol they can consume or their favorite sport team aren't indicators of "manhood", because they are men regardless of the answers to any of those things. It teaches them they can be any type of man they want to be, they don't have to be what the patriarchy tells them are their only options.

And I know this, because I have watched plenty of my butch friends who are devout feminists and have been their entire lives teaching these things to their sons. This is established feminist theory that has existed for a long time. Many followers of this theory do in fact practice what they preach.

Genuinely, I don't really care what you call it. If you want to call it "man's liberation", go for it, I don't care. But to me, this is just feminism. I'm not going to call it men's lib because the feminism I was taught by the women in my life covered these things. Same as how I don't use the word "transandrophobia" because the trans theory I was taught by the trans women in my life told me "transmisogyny" covered these things.

Anyway. I urge you to go read some black feminist theory and then spend some time talking to practitioners of said theory. It might just surprise you how similar the conversation is. It might surprise you to see how their kids and families interact. I'm not saying all black people, because not every black person who is a feminist is specifically a *black feminist*, but when you find someone who fits this description you will know.

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #27

The Battle of Big Wand

Part 2 of reacting to this episode (spoiler-free)!

Cosmo talking about the Big Wand going down: Better check with I.T. Hazel: Just I.T.? No fancy fairy name?

why is this so funny to me

Y'know... I've have a post in my drafts for ages that mocks Anti-Cosmo's castle entrance for not being wheelchair-friendly (because the road is covered in spikes). If he took over and then put spikes on this new road, I'm gonna lose it.

OH, I NAILED my "After thinking about it, this is my final answer" prediction. Dev is in the house! oh, good gravy.

This is the second time he's tried to be a king, and I think it's funny he hasn't tried to be a company president or anything. Not fantasy enough for him.

It's stupid funny to me that Dev just turned 10 and he's got impressive muscles when he flexes. what is this child doing- bench pressing solid gold??

We've been robbed of Dev wishing himself into one of the puzzle games he likes and getting buried under, like... Tetris blocks and having to claw his way out.

That might make a good 'fic; I feel like "wishing to be inside an app" is very correct for him.

??? whaaat does he have? He's got portable wishes of some kind? Is it a shooting star? oh, goodness. Let me think, let me think...

!! Crocker has these in the finale of Jimmy Timmy Power Hour 1. He throws them at the ground near fairy guards to poof them into animals. They're grenades. lmao, Dev got into the Fairy Armory.

Canonically, the Fairy Armory is the only place in Fairy World that still has power during outages, so... epic magic fight with weapons?? Ooooh, I hope so!

Irep is back, I knew it!! Part of me suspected he wouldn't be here because he's not really known for being a team player, but I'm glad he is :) Let's go Anti-Fairies!!

I'm delighted Anti-Cosmo isn't taking lead. Also, for some reason it's hilarious to me that Irep is focused on Hazel and not interested in addressing Cosmo or Wanda. He used to greet them as Auntie and Uncle, and now he's like "I don't need their approval or love."

Uh-oh... Has he sorted out his needy issues? If he's too old for naps and we can't bribe him with hugs, how will we defeat him??

I wanted to see if he uses their honoraries in "Fairly Odd Fairy Tales" (since he does it when he's being polite and I knew he was offering food). He doesn't, but I like how Wanda straight-up fed her nephew an apple that puts him to sleep until his true love kisses him, then looks dead at the viewer and says "And then we all lived happily ever after." Is the implication that no one will ever love him, so he's unconscious forever?? omg. Wanda's very black and white view of things is so incredibly funny to me, especially since she grew up in a mob family.

I'm excited to see Dev and the Anti-Fairies. Who would win: the species that invented papercuts, or a little boy who longs for lemonade?

Are you telling me Cosmo and Anti-Cosmo are BOTH intimidated by Irep now? Either this is about to be super funny, or they've switched.

Did Anti-Cosmo finally step up his parenting? Not out of the question; in Season 10, Foop was in time-out for putting spiders in his spaghetti.

(How ironic, considering Foop liked eating spiders).

I rewound and Cosmo jumps when the magic hits, before he sees Irep, so he's not necessarily afraid of him. Also, keeping my fingers crossed for anti-family interactions. I'm really looking forward to a face-off between Irep and Peri; their banter is my favorite and we didn't get much in "Best of Luck."

I'm so glad that despite changing his name, Irep presents himself with the same flair he always did. He is the same person...

omg, his little cufflinks. He's adorable.

For some reason, I've called him "posh British boy" in two previous posts, but... idk why, because he's literally never been posh and I know that. I'm glad he looks like his aesthetic is "bad boy with the tiniest detail of fancy."

I hope he's still friends with Sammy Sweetsparkle :) Maybe they're in a gang. I know there's 0 chance of Sammy being in this episode, but can you just imagine if Foop took out his wallet and there's a picture of Sammy in it.

Actually... if he's got a little metal circle there, I think that implies his jacket is closer to denim than leather. Lemme check......

OH, interesting... Yeah, he and Sammy don't match.

I don't say it enough, but it's really freakin' funny to me that Foop spends a distressing amount of "Certifiable Super Sitter" following Sammy or spying on Sammy and/or reacting to everything Sammy says. He's just Like That... Like, I enjoy the implication that of all the places Foop could go when his parents canonically left him unsupervised for the week, he likely chose to hit up the Turner place in spite of his hatred for Poof because Sammy is there. Silly.

Anyway...

Dev: Yeah, yeah, yeah... and Irep. Joint conquerors of Fairy World.

OMFG, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Was I RIGHT that Anti-Cosmo isn't even at the takeover!? Local introvert hates leaving his house and never wanted Fairy World anyway; more at 11. I'll be there!!

Plot twist, Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda don't actually show up in this episode because they're busy flirting while Irep's away.

I clocked the design aesthetic of the taken-over Fairy World as "This is Irep and Dev as partners; Anti-Cosmo wouldn't do this" so hard. crying. how did I do that. it's not getting better than this.

"Let's get DEV-ious!!"

dlkfgm, once again losing it at Dev using his first name rather than the "Dimm" part of his surname when he makes puns. He's a Dimmadome, but... he's kind of his own twig on the tree.

It is unreasonably funny to me that Irep's wand is so heavy considering he had massive muscles as a child after his Abracatraz imprisonment ("Spellementary School" & "Timmy's Secret Wish").

Also, I am FASCINATED by the decision to give Irep one little zipper tab that hangs off his jacket. Impeccable.

I love this team already. These are two people who are both known for:

- Coming from upper class families - Having parent-related abandonment issues - Not showing a lot of restraint - Only showing restraint when they've REALLY gone too far

Hmm... Oh boy, let me think. We know Dev's [previous] line was that he didn't like his dad shocking people's brains for money, with Dev having strained feelings even when he was trying to convince himself the shocks could be good ("You can help kids!") And he did feel bad about fighting with Hazel, though he's definitely Going Through the Wringer right now.

And Irep's line in the OG series is that he was totally down for:

- Tormenting his parents - Annihilating Crocker for not inviting him to his house party (whom he hilariously calls Denzel when he's mad at him) - Pointing his school's playground slide into the void - Sending Cosmo and Wanda on a dinner date to a black hole - Poof dying (despite the fact their lives were tied together)

- but he wouldn't allow anyone to harm Chloe, who finally introduced him to hugs.

He made it very clear he wasn't willing to face Vicky to save his own life, even on the verge of death, but he'd do it for her or for chicken cordon bleu. And she's not here, and we're all out of chicken cordon bleu. Uh-oh…

- Would Irep rate Hazel hugs 10/10? Inquiring minds need to know. - Is Dev bribing Irep with hugs? Or is Irep just here for the chaos and assurances that Dev's having more fun with him than Peri? - Is Irep bribing Dev with hugs? Are they pumping each other up with positive affirmations?? Go king; continue the healing cycle!

If Irep's parents show up, I hope he's on good terms with his mom, who used to pack chicken nuggets and anti-venom in his lunch box :)

Dev's faith in his ability to not fall off his O-pairs makes me nervous every time he's ever been onscreen.

His dad might let him down, but the O-pairs never have.

[ cnt'd - #Long post ]

All I've been thinking about for ages is an AU where Dev and Mikey Munroe (Bunsen Is a Beast) switch drones for a day, so Mikey's parents freak out that they can't monitor their son 24/7 and meanwhile, Dev just... can't get his dad's attention despite the two-way microphone and camera screen. Also, Mikey spends most of his time making noises into the O-pairs' fans. It's always been my headcanon that Mikey's parents installed the Buxaplenty's and Leadly's security systems (hence the buttons releasing different dogs & the lethal lightning bolts) since I think "ooh, rich people want us" helps justify why his parents are gone for months or years at a time when we know their job is designing home security, so basically... all the cool rich people use them. I actually have a WIP of Mikey and Remy playing near the Buxaplenty train tracks when they were little, but I never found a plot point strong enough to carry it to the end. Anyway, I've been waiting to see what the Dimmadomes have in terms of security, but it's... nothing yet. Plot twist, Dale has trust issues even with the people installing security?? ... I think he'd be friends with Mikey's parents. Maybe. Actually, I might need a 'fic about Dale having a meltdown when he goes home for the first time in 7 years and doesn't trust that Vicky won't sneak in to get him. He needs the world's best security team. It's two terrible parents afraid of literally everything. Yes, they ditched their kid for this. Don't worry about it. y'know... It's really messed up that Mikey's parents are terrified of everything, but they leave their 12-year-old home alone with the pets for months or years at a time, "but it's fine because they're spying on him 24/7 and sometimes give him gifts (like medicated wipes)." His dad is implied to have a fear of germs and I've always wondered if that plays into them not being anywhere near Mikey... Plot twist- We pull a "My Gym Partner's a Monkey" (where the reason we don't see Adam Lyon's parents is because they're severely allergic to animal hair and Adam has to thoroughly wash when he's home and they can't go to school events), but it's Mikey's parents fleeing Muckledunk because they're either allergic or afraid of Beasts. They left their son... Okay, I just checked my notes and I have a line here that says "Mikey's obsession with soft things like animals, beards, and blankets is probably because his parents never touch him." help??

Anyway, I think an AU where Dale hovers over Dev 24/7 and is still a terrible dad would be funny. Instead of neglect, it's obsession... Especially at this age since Dev's as old as Dale was when his trauma started.

... Is Dale putting distance between himself and Dev on purpose because Dev looks exactly like him and is now the age when Dale's life came crashing down? idk if Dale had access to mirrors back then, but that's gotta be weird.

crying at Irep waiting for his cue to pull Dev's flashbacks down from the top of the screen. They rehearsed this. Painfully in-character (In "Secret Wish," Foop claims he waited 10 minutes outside so he could burst in at a dramatic moment).

The way Irep twists his legs gives me Anti-Cosmo vibes.

Rare "Winn without cap" spotted in the wild.

Dev has the room oriented the wrong direction and in doing so, he forgot to include the door. Emotionally, he's stuck in this room. lmao.

Maybe it's a class that's not Guzman's since we know from "Multiverse of Jenkins" that these kids do attend other classes. But... Dev, what's goin' on, buddy?

INCREDIBLY funny to me that Bev sits directly in front of Dev? I gotta go back and fact-check that sometime. Has he been harboring his crush on her because she's right there? That's great!

??? If she DOESN'T sit there then I have to assume Dev is just so Bev-centric that he WANTS her to be there, and that's very funny. Go chase your sporty crush, rich boy. I support you.

Okay, I went back, and it seems his canon seat is between Bev and Kev (with Kev behind Hazel), but Kev vaporizes when we need to center Hazel and Dev onscreen at the same time (such as Dev faking sick and Hazel glaring at him). Oh my glob, he's another witch... Dev, embrace your ancestral witch-hunting for me, plz and ty. It would be funny... /checks my witch notes as a joke and screeches to a halt. Oh my goodness, I could finally get a Soil Tribe child in my roster... I have their magic down as "causes host to fade unnoticed into the background," and it would be very funny to do something magical with the child model. ??? On my first watch of "28 Puddings Later," I don't think I saw that scene of Dev falling over and losing his shades when the pudding throne collapses. Must've missed it while taking notes. That's cute.

I like how Dev's memories are 2D like the photos we've seen throughout the series. Also, Hazel's so dang cute.

I'm glad Dale's pants look the same in both the New Wish and old 2D style despite no FOP character ever wearing anything with that many dots.

I like that Dev's hair is much shinier than his dad's, implying Dale still has the dullness that comes with being soft instead of slick.

- I'm assuming this means either Dev's hair is gelled or he gets that from the maternal side of his family? - idk man, this is very in line with my "Dev's mom is a Leadly" headcanon... At this point, I can't NOT torment him with two very rich and extremely messed-up sides of his family... They both have extreme branding and weird fixations and funky buildings and run big businesses that have brought in incredible amounts of money and they like tech and call people the wrong names... do you see what I see...

I'm DELIGHTED Dale's hair curls up in the back. I've been so sad that he lost his tuft when he grew up. This is clever.

!!! oh yeah, Dale has his dad's stripe! Technically he and Dev both have the stripe, but I love the subtle differences in their hair. While collecting screenshots for an earlier post, I noticed the hair above their ears is combed in different directions, like this:

- with Dale showing the stripe much more clearly than Dev does. I like the implication that Dev's stripe is gold. That's really cute.

I checked, and the gold streak does seem to be in the place he has the Dimmadome family stripes in his 2D form (Eyebrow level). Neat!!

Aw, Irep's a big boy! And his hair grew out blue!! Parents' genes came out kickin'. I did wonder. I think it's funny his mustache and goatee are still black.

Despite losing the black hair, he's not yet immune from "Irep, are you sure one of your parents wasn't actually pixie?" allegations. This is stupid funny to me... In my Cloudlands AU, the Anti-Fairies are always dunking on him for having black hair like Anti-Cosmo's ex-wife, but no one can say anything because unlike Anti-Cosmo's first heir (Talon), Foop was born with the iris virus (colored eyes), so he's "been accepted by the nature spirits" and is heir apparent.

... Seeing this many colored eyes is giving me incredible amounts of anxiety, but it would not be appropriate to clarify why out of context. I like the guy with hair over his eyes and a big hat.

Is Irep leading the charge these days? Do the Anti-Fairies take orders from him?

Did Anti-Cosmo step down!? Because considering how much he hates conflict, I wouldn't be slightly surprised, omg...

I think it's funny that if Dev uncovers any official documents or watches memory clips that flashback to Irep's past crimes, he'd probably be like "Why is there no paper trail for this Irep guy? who tf is Foop?"

WAS that his experience of browsing the anti-web? I have to assume it was- I can't imagine Anti-Fairy World would cross his path without Foop's name coming up.

?? Considering that in my previous post, I said I couldn't think of any reason for Anti-Cosmo to desire taking over Fairy World unless he managed to score the earth and/or godkids out of it...

I'm so glad Dev just dropped "They have to take over Fairy World so they can rule Earth." slkdfj?? okay...

Irep: Now we can rule BOTH! Anti-Cosmo: That just sounds like scoring godkids with extra work.

THEM!! I am once again so intrigued by the lore that A.J. went into parascience and is following in Crocker's footsteps?? You've no idea how much I need to know what the A.J.-Crocker relationship is.

crying at Irep making a peace sign when he gets in front of the camera with Dev. Doesn't he do that in his profile pic on Dark Laser's phone? He's literally the same person he's always been. I missed him so much.

PLEASE do not tell me Dev's full name is Development "Devin" Dimmadome. The quote marks Dale puts around "Devin" are making me lose it.

Dale's partner: Honey, can you stop thinking about business for 5 minutes so we can pick a name for our son? Dale, who comes from a family that usually just slaps their name on things: I got this.

?? I'd LOVE to know what's going on with Dev's mom. Did she die in childbirth and had no say in naming her son, and Dale took over from there? Is she alive, but divorced from and/or passive around him?

Like... I have to assume she had the most exquisite prenatal care through a rich family like this, especially if we assume she also came from a wealthy family cough- Leadlys.

Holy flipping plot twist, does Dev not have a mom at all? He looks exactly like his extraordinarily wealthy dad. Was he just cloned so Dale could pass the business on someday? Did Dale just kinda buy him and wait for the surrogate to hand him over, and he never formed any attachment to him as a baby because he had the O-Pairs / au pairs raise him? lmao!!!

Traumatized beyond belief for 7 years by a girl his age so he trusts absolutely no one and never learned what a healthy relationship was like even with a partner, let alone his son. smh.

Actually, it's very funny to think of him and Vicky splitting up. Like, it was extremely toxic and not romantic in the slightest, but she straight-up identified him when she saw his face in "Operation: Birthday Takeback" even though logically, that would have been 70 years since she was last close to him. She probably knew him pretty well, especially since his hair has changed.

Timmy can't have frozen the timestream any earlier than Channel Chasers in Season 4 when he learns he'll lose Cosmo, Wanda, and his memories when he grows up, which is the reason he cites for freezing time in "Timmy's Secret Wish," and that was 50+ years. It's been 20 more on top of that for Dale to grow up and his son to turn 10. We know Vicky and Doug Dimmadome very, very occasionally crossed paths in later seasons (Vicky tries to sell him the Stryker Z in Season 3's "Engine Blocked").

If anyone cares, this (Season 3) is presumably where Dale grew up unless Doug took him to Dimmadelphia.

Like?? Something about the fact that Vicky and Dale are the same age is funny as heck to me. New Wish canon heavily implies Vicky's been taking advantage of Dale since they were 9, and they might've been friends once upon a time (despite the fact that in both New Wish and the OG series, she can never remember who the Dimmadomes are, lol).

There's no way Doug did a good job of looking for him, or Vicky would've turned him in for reward money. I wonder if Dale had a history of sneaking off to play with Vicky and just never came home one day.

Do you think that after her bossing him around for 7 years, Dale was really messed up and didn't know how to make choices for himself?

Oh, that's awful!! Who would write a 'fic about him running away to look for Vicky and beg her to take him back because he doesn't know how to be a person anymore and needs schedules and instruction? Who would do that?? I'm fascinated by their dark, twisted, and incredibly under-explained vibe. Haha, I'm in danger...

oh no, and Dev even told us his father relies on algorithms over his own thoughts, and we KNOW Dale was upset his publicity team said he should talk to people face to face instead of sending the O-Pairs or hiding behind holograms... A snarky Dev told us he thinks "talking to people isn't [Dale's] thing..." I'm connecting the dots...

hey wtf. does Dale have issues with scraping by in the dirt and dark with limited food and water and nothing to his name for 7 years and that's why he freaks out when he loses money? He can't handle the thought of not having a house??

Holy flip, I wish he'd communicate his trauma to his son, but I'm yelling that we keep seeing hints that he's withholding things from Dev. Like ?? Dale explains his thoughts all the time (in monologue fashion), but he's clearly keeping some things under wraps since Dev didn't have any concept for who Vicky was or why she knew his dad.

I genuinely think Dale doesn't want Dev to know the details. Dev didn't even seem to have a good grasp of why he isn't allowed lemonade, or at least that was my read considering how grumpy he was about it.

omg, this is horrible. who would write a 'fic about Dale taking his son camping and then slipping off to have a total meltdown where Dev won't see. who would do that.

Like, I think at this point they're so rich, you'd have to assume they're not at risk of losing everything if Dale took time off work, but we KNOW he's stuck on that schedule Vicky raised him with (working on Saturdays, which we see him do multiple times), and we KNOW he's always trying to claw his way up despite having the money to buy literally anything he could ever want.

And we KNOW Dale's big thing is that he loses his entire flippin' mind when the money slows down ("You still making sales?" / "Yes, but they're dropping, Dev!") and he's willing to stalk and hurt people to keep it coming in.

Y'know, this is continuing my theory that Doug Dimmadome is probably dead. I legit think Dale lost his support system (possibly around Dev's birthday considering how clingy he is about boots and says they came into his life on that day, plus the golden boots with the "In honor" plaque he has in his house). Daddy's not bailing him out of this one...

Lovely that Dale's first words to Dev after finding out he's taken over Fairy World are "My son." Oh, NOW he wants to talk...

I also find out my son is working with the fey and immediately drop his full legal name.

Why is Dale both the worst person alive and the only dad ever? I need to flatten him with a cruise liner (carnally).

Happy boy... (Dev, don't trust him.)

omfg, Irep's not buying this for a second.

?? I feel like it makes things WORSE that Dale seems at least a little aware of how upset Dev is about the boots? "I'm so proud of my son; it almost makes me want to throw away my boots." - There's no way he doesn't know he's been screwing with Dev's head for the last 5 months. omg.

- Hey, does Dale treat Dev this way because Doug made Dale feel like he was playing second fiddle to his giant hats?? I can't help but notice this whole city has a hat theme, yet Dale doesn't seem to care for hats at all... which is interesting, because we know Dimmadelphia existed way before Doug got here. Doug in my theory: /died 10 years ago Dale: If I touch Dad's hats or add boot statues around the city, he'll totally kill me. - ?? I guess the alt theory is that Dale put all the hat stuff up as memorials to his dad, which doesn't sound far-fetched since again... he keeps THIS in his house:

... Huh. I guess it could be a trophy for Dale instead of a memorial. That's another relevant time to use "In honor." What does it say about me that "omg his dad is dead and he bronzed his boots as a keepsake" was my first thought when I saw this in "Operation: Birthday Takeback" and not "Dale is successful of his own merit"? Obsessed with the implication that Dev's brand image is his sunglasses... Three Dimmadomes go down in history: The Hat, The Boots, and The Shades.

I still think Dale should have a gun. Not to be helpful; just to keep things spicy...

Please go to the Fairy Armory: the one place in Fairy World that canonically keeps power during blackouts. I am begging. I feel like his Southern daddy would want this for him. Doug had a flamethrower.

Is Dev still holding those magic grenades, and what would happen if someone tackled him in a hug?

SDLJKFSDKLFJSDF I'm on the floor. Did I call it? No way... But is Anti-Cosmo only going to show up now that Dev's giving godkids to Anti-Fairies??

Irep: Yo, I'm going to take over Fairy World; anyone want anything? Anti-Cosmo: The same thing I always want: a new child. Irep: wtf

Oh, all that time I spent speculating instead of actually watching the episode the night I started was so worth it. I was really nervous people would grump at me for how I see Anti-Cosmo, but now I feel like I was set up for a slam dunk.

Also, I like how Dev's taken over Jorgen's office. I didn't notice at first, but that's clever.

Dale is so proud despite the fact Dev taped his mouth shut and tossed him aside. That's so funny...

omg, this pit looks dark.

Will Dev torment his dad with lemonade? Is Dale going into the dark torture pit that swings open from the top like a trapdoor, which parallels his underground trauma to a T, or is that going too far?? Is Dev going to dump on his dad about Vicky? Will Dale freak out when he realizes he accidentally hired his abuser of 7 years to babysit his son? Will Dale be joining Club Redheads Who Didn't Get Mindwiped? (I hope not, because Vicky's in it). Will Dev bully his father while he has all this power and then wipe his mind?? So many questions. Find out next time...

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x fem!oc (Elena)

SUMMARY: Where Elena and Matt grew up together, fell in love as kids but realized too late. Will there be any hope for them?

WARNING: A little angst and mentions of cheating.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

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Elena was born and raised in Boston, in a two-story house, next door to one of the most beautiful houses in the city, but not because of its external beauty, but because of who lived inside.

Elena grew up being the next-door neighbor of the Sturniolo triplets, she also studied at the same school as the three of them, these two factors made her and the trio become almost a fantastic quartet.

The four of them grew up together, ran down the street every day together, got dirty with dirt and mud on rainy days together, played cooking together (they were forced by her) and, best of all, they made mini "vlogs" together throughout their childhood and pre-adolescence, becoming literally inseparable.

Nick was Elena's confidant, always there to listen to her and give faithful advice to the girl, giving her a shoulder to cry on and a company to laugh when needed. Nick trusted Elena with his eyes closed and loved her with all his heart, so much so that she was the first one he came out to.

Chris was her partner in crime, the two grew up playing pranks on their parents, brothers (on his side) and neighbors. Chris saw Elena as his anchor, losing count of how many times he entered the girl's room through the window in the early hours of the morning to vent or just to be able to sleep with her company, dispelling his biggest fears.

Matt was a different case. Matt was the boy who took her as his date to every school dance and accompanied her to every friend's party. Matt was the boy who bought Elena flowers every week and took her to the city's summer amusement parks, always making sure to get her a different teddy bear. Matt was the boy who made her heart flutter, but also stay in a sacred calm; that made her body freeze, but also warm with affection. He was the one who introduced the feeling of love to her...

But who said he did anything about it? Despite acting almost like her boyfriend, Matt was afraid of rejection, after all, his heart belonged 100% to Elena and he couldn't bear having it completely stolen from him if she denied it. And that's why, out of a silly but genuine fear, he lost her.

At the age of 17, Elena moved to New York with her parents after her mother received a job offer that she couldn't refuse and that would open doors for her career. Seeing her leave was one of the hardest things Matt has been through, but the most painful was seeing her post on Instagram, 6 months after she left. Elena was dating, and it wasn't him.

Over time, things changed, the triplets moved to Los Angeles and grew dramatically on social media, becoming extremely well-known and loved on the Internet.

And Elena... well, Elena finished school and started International Relations at NYU, working at a coffee shop near her house so she could save money, since she was engaged. That's right, her boyfriend, Jeremy, of almost 2 years had asked her to marry him. It was a big shock and Elena had to think a lot before accepting, but it was her dream, to have a successful career and raise a family. Right?

Elena and Jeremy were in the middle of a month of decisions for the wedding, decoration, food, cake, clothes, etc., so Elena was feeling overwhelmed, it was a lot on her mind, and she found herself wondering if that was really what she wanted. Therefore, the girl (now woman) decided to pay a visit to her grandparents, who still lived in Boston. Cooling down in a place more than familiar to her seemed ideal now.

Elena just didn't expect that her grandmother would tell Mary Lou, and that Mary would tell Nick, who would tell his brothers, generating a secret collective trip to Boston. The triplets were dying to see Elena, after all, it had been 2 years since they had seen her best friend, or, in Matt's case, crush.

It was a Saturday morning when Elena landed in Boston, quickly grabbing her small suitcase and hailing a taxi at the airport's main pedestrian entry and exit gate, giving as her destination address her grandparents' house, which coincidentally, was on the same street where she grew up.

Elena planned to stay in Boston only until the next day, Sunday, since Monday she had classes again and she was going back to work, besides she knew that if she stayed much longer away from home, from Jeremy, he would lose his mind.

It didn't take long for Elena to arrive at her destination. The girl got out of the car after paying the taxi driver and took her suitcase from the trunk, thanking him once again before she knocked on the front door, waiting.

It was a big surprise for her when her grandfather opened the door and behind him were her best friends, Nick was holding a sign that said "WELCOME BACK, ELENA! WE MISSED YOU ♡", while Chris was holding three packets of her favorite candy in his hands and Matt held a bouquet of flowers that almost hid his red face, Elena wondered if it was from embarrassment or the heat from the summer.

The girl dropped the suitcase, bringing her right hand to her mouth, covering half of her surprised expression. She felt her eyes fill with tears, God, how she missed the three boys.

Next to her were her grandparents, with big smiles on their faces and bright eyes, watching her with a mix of affection and pride.

"Oh my God, you guys are crazy! What are you doing in Boston? I thought you were in LA!" Elena exclaimed, her voice cracking mid-sentence with high emotions.

"We were, but Grandma told our mom that you were coming here today and I couldn't handle missing my best friend anymore." Nick said as he placed the poster on the couch. He turned quickly and ran to the girl, hugging her tightly. The action seemed to wake Matt and Chris, who quickly moved and formed a mini line behind the oldest.

"Damn, you look old" Chris joked when his brother got out of the hug, laughing loudly when Elena hit his forehead. "Here, to sweeten your life." He scoffed, handing the candy packets to her.

"I have to check if these aren't sour candies, coming from you I expect everything." Elena joked, taking the candies and placing them on top of her suitcase. She opened her arms and hugged Chris momentarily.

Chris pulled away as they separated and positioned himself next to Nick, the two exchanging glances before turning their gaze to Matt.

"They're pink tulips, I hope they're still your favorites" Matt stepped forward, showing the full bouquet before handing it to her.

"Oh Matt, they're beautiful! Thank you" Elena received the bouquet, smelling them quickly and mentally punishing herself for blushing.

Matt smiled widely and watched her for a few seconds, only breaking out of his trance when he heard Elena's grandfather make a fake cough. The boy shook his head and walked away, lowering his gaze to the ground.

Elena quickly placed the bouquet on the coffee table and finally greeted her grandparents, placing kisses on their age-marked cheeks.

"Let's take these things to your room and make plans for the weekend!" Nick spoke loudly, throwing the candies to Chris and taking the small suitcase in his hands, before starting to climb the stairs without waiting for anyone.

Elena laughed loudly as she heard Chris swear at Nick as he bent down to pick up the packages that fell at his feet. Matt shook his head, smiling as he saw the girl take the bouquet with extreme delicacy.

The three following the oldest up the stairs.

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Hours later, the quartet found themselves in the triplets parents car, parked at the Mc Donald's they grew up going to, while eating their favorite burguers and catching up on conversations. They spent the afternoon driving around the places they went when young, which made Elena's heart warm, she missed that, that feeling of calm, without any burden, without obligations or responsibilities, just the interest of being happy.

During that early morning, Elena woke up to the sound of rocks hitting her window, which she quickly recognized. What surprised her was that when she got up and approached the window it wasn't Chris there, but Matt.

"What are you doing here?" Elena asked in a whisper after opening her window, squinting her eyes as she tried to better see Matt's silhouette in the pitch black night.

"Let me in." Matt whispered back, ignoring her question as he looked down to check if he wasn't about to fall off the edge of the roof.

Elena sighed and walked to the side, giving Matt space to enter through the window, closing it shortly after to stop the night wind of entering the room.

"What are you doing here at this time?" Elena asked again, sitting on the edge of her bed and watching him.

"As if I didn't pay you visits in the early hours of the morning before." He responded smiling, sitting on the bed and dragging himself until his back was against the headboard and his legs were stretched out on the mattress. He slapped his hand on the space beside him, looking at Elena.

The girl sighed but smiled, following his silent request.

"I missed you" Matt commented. "It's strange to live life without you with us"

"I miss you too" Elena replied, looking at him. "It's strange to only keep in touch on the phone and find out about some things through social media" She continued, receiving a nod from the brunette.

"You still have them" Matt realized as he noticed all the teddy bears he got for Elena piled up on top of the dresser next to the closet.

"Of course I have them, why would I throw them away? They're cute and remind me that you're actually good at something" She scoffed, receiving a light push from the boy.

"As if you weren't rooting like crazy for me while I was trying to hit the game targets" He mocked back, seeing Elena roll her eyes with a big smile on her face.

"Obviously, getting teddy bears is better than buying them, have you seen the prices of these little things?" Elena gave a low laugh when she saw Matt open his mouth exaggeratedly, soon after the two burst into laughter together.

"So, are you really going to get married?" Matt asked suddenly after they calmed down, looking directly at her.

"Yeah, I will" She replied, lowering her gaze to her hands, specifically to the silver ring on her left ring finger.

"You don't look very excited" He commented, making the girl sigh.

"I just... I don't know, I'm so young, you know? I'm only 20, getting married seems a bit drastic right now, but Jeremy thinks it will be good for our future, us having the same last name will help in the office" She replied, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What does he do for a living again?" The brunette asked.

"He currently works at his father's office and studies law," Elena said, noticing the grimace he made at her response. "What?"

"He doesn't seem like your type. In fact, he seems like quite a daddy's boy." Matt commented, regretting it seconds later after seeing Elena's eyebrows raise in surprise.

"And what do you know about my type, Matthew?"

"I'm sorry, ignore what I said" Matt intervened quickly, the last thing he wanted was to fight with Elena now, knowing that after that Sunday, he didn't know when he would see her again. Maybe at her wedding, the boy felt himself shudder at the thought.

Elena sighed.

"You know that my dream has always been to be successful with my career and have my own family. Us getting married would give me both... Having his last name, I will be able to start my International Relations profession within the office that soon will be his, which will make me grow faster on the career, and I'll have my own family." Elena spoke while gesturing.

"Sounds like there's a lot of self-interest involved" Matt commented.

"Matthew!" The girl exclaimed, making him raise his arms in a sign of redemption.

"Sorry, sorry." He sighed. "I remember, you know."

"What?" Elena looked at him confused.

"How you always wanted a family, when we were kids me, Nick and Chris were always messing around and you were playing mommy with your barbies. You wouldn't let go of that damn Baby Alive even if you were paid to, always taking her everywhere." Matt let out a laugh as he remembered, making Elena laugh along as she saw her own smaller figure running after the triplets with her doll in hands.

"You can't say anything, you always took care of my Baby Alive when I asked you to" The girl replied with a wide smile, watching Matt roll his eyes exaggeratedly while she laughed as quietly as she could.

The brunette turned to her to rebut, but stopped in his action, reinforcing in his mind every detail of the face of the girl who had his heart in her hands, details that he had memorized a long time ago and still found himself remembering and tracing in his mind on sleepless nights.

The two stared deeply at each other for what seemed like an eternity, before Elena looked away and fake coughed.

"Just think about your decision Elena." Matt asked softly before getting up from the queen sized bed.

"Where are you going?" Elena looked at him again, her eyes pleading, as if she was afraid he would leave her there, alone and without him.

"I'm going back home, if my mother wakes up and doesn't see me in bed in the morning, I'm sure she'll freak out, and the situation won't turn out very well for us." He spoke with a sigh, going to the window and opening it, looking back one last time, before moving outside, closing it again before disappearing from the girl's vision.

Elena stood still for a few minutes, processing the conversation and that last moment, feeling her heart sink at the thought of not seeing the boy again for a long time after Sunday. It felt like a goodbye.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

On the next day, Elena woke up significantly early as she felt the sun's rays coming through her window. As she opened her eyes, ready to complain about why it was so bright in the room, she remembered Matt leaving and how she forgot to get up and close the curtains.

The girl sighed, before getting up and getting ready for the day. She felt excited to be able to see her friends again, but her heart ached at the thought that that very night she would leave again.

After getting ready, Elena took her cell phone and saw a message left by Jeremy.

"I hope you're having a good time there. I can't wait to have you here again today, I can't stop looking at the wedding catalogues. Do you prefer chocolate or vanilla cake? xx, jeremy"

Elena sighed again, it's obvious she preferred vanilla, how did he not know that? The girl shook her head, deciding to answer him another time.

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"What are we doing today?" Nick asked as they found themselves in front of the triplets' door, as they had done years before.

"I thought we'd go to the amusement park, the one that only opens in the summer, you know? Like old days." Matt suggested. Elena looked at him when she heard about the park, quickly looking away when she saw him already looking back at her. She needed to stop this.

"Let's go then!" Chris spoke loudly, running over to his parents' car again, fiddling with the passenger door handle impatiently, begging Matt to unlock it.

Elena laughed at the action, running to the car too and soon getting into the back seat, sitting behind Chris's group, having a view of the driver's seat.

A few minutes later the four arrived at the amusement park and started going on the basic rides, which the four liked, bumper cars, roller coasters and carousel.

"Can we go on the ferris wheel?" Elena asked, puting her hands in a sign of prayer and looking at the three of them with a pleading look.

"I'm not going, it's too boring. I want to go to the arcade area" Chris replied, ignoring the girl who was begging.

"I want to go to the arcade too!" Nick shouted, raising his hand like a child and approaching Chris, making Elena roll her eyes and cross her arms with a huff.

"I'll go with you." Matt said looking at Elena, who smiled big, taking his hand and dragging him through the park to the ferris wheel line, ignoring the taller man's protests.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Wow, I don't remember the last time I entered a cabin like that" Matt commented, closing the small door behind him and sitting on the single bench next to Elena, who smiled as she nodded and looked at the outside view through the cabin's glass window.

Matt found himself watching her, taking note of her profile, feeling himself falling in love with her all over again.

It didn't take long for the wheel to start moving, the cabin swayed a little making Elena let out a surprised sound, holding onto Matt's arm to steady herself.

"Sorry, I don't remember it moving that much" She commented, smiling awkwardly as she took her hand off the boy's arm, watching him wave his hand like it was nothing.

The two focused their eyes outside the cabin, taking note of the people who looked like little ants as the cabin rose higher, the blue sky with few clouds, the light breeze that blew and the birds that passed by in the distance. Elena looked at the cabin ahead and saw a couple cuddling each other, smiling big as they also watched the view, and she found herself trying to remember if she had ever been through that with Jeremy, but her mind came out was blank.

Her chest tightened as she realized that she had never even been to an amusement park with Jeremy, or a park, or a romantic walk. With Jeremy it was always all about work and having the perfect status.

Her gaze changed from the couple to Matt, noticing that he was also looking at the couple, but quickly his blue eyes focused on her as well.

"I love being able to look at you up close like this," Matt whispered, as if he was afraid of speaking too loudly and end what they were having.

Elena smiled, blushing, but forcing herself not to look away from him, she didn't want to miss that moment for anything. Her eyes took in all the little details of Matt's face, his sparkling blue eyes with dilated pupils, his nose perfectly shaped and the right size for his face, his cheekbones slightly reddened by the heat, his big, messy hair, his beard starting to appear again due to the time without shaving it... She felt like she could stay there forever.

Matt moved slightly closer, stopping with his mouth centimeters from hers, seeming to wait to see if she would pull away, which she didn't. Elena held herself in place, yearning to feel him.

Matt, realizing that there was no movement on her part, moved closer until their lips touched, and Elena felt that everything she read in romance books about the sensations of electricity through her body and the fireworks around her when kissing her right person was true.

Matt let out a sigh through his nose at the sensation, feeling instant relief and as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He never wanted to leave there again.

It was just a touch of lips, but it was enough for them at that moment. It was exactly what they needed.

Elena pulled away first, still with her eyes closed, trying to prolong the feeling and sensations in her body and mind. When she opened her eyes, she noticed Matt already looking at her, smiling broadly, and she returned the smile.

"I love you." Matt blurted out, making Elena's eyes widen. "Elena, I'm sorry for not having said or done anything before, but I've loved you for as long as I can remember, since the first flower I plucked from my mother's garden and gave to you, since the first time you gave me your Baby Alive for me to take care of as if it were the most precious thing in the world, since the first day you asked me to kiss your scraped knee to heal it. I've loved you for so long and I was an idiot for not saying it. And it's okay if you don't want me, you're engaged, you have a life in New York and... Asking you to leave all of this is impossible, but I needed to tell you."

Before Elena could process it, the bubble around the two seemed to burst as the ferris wheel stopped and their turn was over, the little cabin door opening again.

Matt cleared his throat, getting up and helping Elena out. When they both touched their feet on the floor, Elena felt her cell phone vibrate, picking it up only to see that Jeremy was sending her a new message about the wedding, and at that moment she fell to reality, she had cheated on her fiancé with her best friend. A bitter taste entered her mouth, her body froze and a horrible feeling took over her heart. God, what did she do?

Elena quickly pulled away from Matt, feeling her hands shake. She put her cell phone in her bag and turned to the taller man, seeing him looking at her with a worried look.

"Matt I cheated on him... I-I cheated on my fiancé with you." She stuttered. Matt looked at her with a weight on his eyes, feeling horrible for having contributed to that, blaming himself for kissing her, wanting to go back in time and not even agreeing to go on the ferris wheel with the girl.

He loved her, but she didn't love him back, not like he wanted her to.

"Elena look, it's going to be okay, you can talk to him, I swear I won't approach you again, I'm sorry-"

"I-I need to go."

"What?" Matt stopped walking completely.

"I need to go Matt." She looked into his eyes, feeling guilty as she saw immense pain in the blue pools. "Don't go after me, please. I'm sorry."

Elena turned and ran away, wiping the tears that fell from her eyes without stopping and feeling an emptiness and weight in her chest, as if part of her had stayed with Matt.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The girl got out of the taxi in front of her grandparents house and walked to the door, taking the spare key that her grandfather had given her, trying to unlock the lock with her blurry vision.

"Elena?" The girl heard her grandmother call from the kitchen after closing the door behind her.

"Hi grandma." Elena responded, her voice cracking from the held back cry.

Her grandmother quickly appeared at the kitchen door after noticing the difference in her granddaughter's voice, approaching with quick steps when she saw the youngest's red eyes and wet cheeks.

"Oh Elena, what happened?" The older woman asked worriedly, taking Elena's shoulders and leading her to the sofa, sitting her on the soft surface and sitting next to her.

"Why does love hurt so much, grandma?" Elena asked, letting out a sob. Her grandmother sighed, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh Elena, love doesn't hurt dear. It took me many years to learn that, if love is right for you and your heart, and it's reciprocal, it doesn't hurt, it wasn't made to hurt. It was with your grandfather that I learned that love is free, it is generous, it is safe and it empowers you in a way that makes you feel stronger and like you can conquer the world." The oldest explained with a smile. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I kissed Matt." Elena said, looking down at her hands, quickly looking away from the ring. "We went to the amusement park we went to as kids, I wanted to go on the ferris wheel and he accompanied me, we had a moment and we kissed."

"He always looked at you differently... And you at him, so much so that I swore you two would end up together. I remember all the times you came running here with a new flower in your hands and said it was from Matt, as If I didn't already know that." Elena smiled upon hearing her grandmother's words.

"But grandma, I'm engaged." She whispered regretfully.

"Do you love Jeremy?" The eldest asked, cupping her granddaughter's cheek and lifting her face so she could look her in the eyes.

"I-I... I don't know." Elena desperately tried to feel for Jeremy what she felt for Matt. "I don't feel about him what I feel when I think about Matt, or when I'm with him. Jeremy is an incredible man, with a planned and perfect life... I feel so pressured sometimes, like I have to be perfect all the time to fit in with him and his plans. It's not light, grandma."

Elena cried harder when she realized how heavy her days were with Jeremy, how she always had to have the most impeccable and perfect clothes, with the best posture, the most flawless makeup, the best-groomed hair and the best modes. How she felt about being looked at and evaluated by everyone all the time, especially at Jeremy's parenting conferences or in her father's office.

"Elena, pay close attention to me, what does your heart say if you spend more time worrying about perfection than kissing him? If you spend more time in the day thinking about a thousand things than living love lightly? Do you feel like to run away when with him? Honey, I'm sorry, but that's not love. Not the right one for you, at least."

Elena looked at her grandmother, surprised by her wisdom and how it all made sense.

Jeremy was a perfect man, but not for her. Matt was her perfect match.

God, what would she do now? She ran out of the park and left Matt all by himself after he declared his love for her. And she still had Jeremy...

"I already know what I gave to do."

[russellsppttemplates]

It's just the beggining (Oscar Piastri)

Oscar hasn't done or said anything, so you're taking matters into your own hands

Note: english is not my first language. It's my first Oscar piece and I'm nervous posting this, but hopefully you enjoy it! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: mentions reader's grandparents' health issues, mentions the situation with McLaren and Daniel, insomnia

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Hey, Y/N!", James called you once he saw you walk by his classroom, "hey", you greeted back, adjusting your books on your arms.

"There is a new kid, I'm sure you know, Oscar Piastri his name is, and apparently he's staying the long weekend too, like you", he trailed off, not knowing if he was stepping further than he should.

"Yes, I am staying, it's okay to talk about it", you gave him tight lipped smile, "well, I was hoping you'd keep him company - he's a bit shy, but he's very fun to be around and the teacher also thought it would be good since you're both staying", he reasoned as you nodded.

You had to stay back because your grandparents didn't live in England, and because of their old age and problems that naturally arose with that, your parents had to fly out and spend sometime with them, meaning you didn't have anyone back home, so you stayed. As for Oscar, you found out that he was staying back because his family was in Melbourne.

"At first, I just had online schooling, but it got trickier to manage and my dad needed to go back to work so I had to stay back", he explained when you asked him why he was there, "and I hope I can focus on racing, but you already know that", he scoffed softly.

"I don't think I do, I'm sorry", you narrowed your eyes, genuinely unaware of what he was talking about.

After he told you all about his career until that moment, as well as his hopes and dreams, he chuckled, "you really didn't know?", he wondered.

"I didn't! The girls said something about you moving here but I didn't listen much, I'm not that into gossip and my memory is like Dory's, I can never keep up with the latest who likes who and who flirted with what's his face", you earnestly replied.

For the first time since he arrived at the school, he felt like he could really trust someone and he could hope for new friendships on this side of the world.

You were there for his final race in F4, clapping at him on the podium, and even F3 and F2 despite your university deadlines, always making sure you could support him in every way you could.

"Hey, Osc", you said over the phone, setting your pen down the desk and swivelling in the chair. You wanted to get as much knowledge and experience as possible, so you applied to do a internship in a physiotherapy clinic near your apartment during the summer.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you doing?", he asked as you could notice the antsyness on his voice.

"I'm good, it's a bit of a slow day here, my supervisor said I could read up on a few articles", you mused, "is everything okay?", you asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner tonight", he began, "you can come to my flat if that's okay, I'll order something in since I can't be trusted in the kitchen", he suggested.

"Fine by me, I'd like that, sounds really nice", you smiled, "I'll see you soon, then", you added, not wanting to dwell much on the fact that he didn't answer your question.

When you left the clinic, you walked to Oscar's place since the sun had graced you for the day and it was still nice to be out. Knocking on the door, you waited for him to open it, "I'm still in my scrubs as I didn't see the need to change", you said as you walked inside, hugging Oscar after dropping your backpack on the floor.

"Hey, you look nice, don't worry about it", he smiled as he led you to the living room, "I had to go and get the take out myself, but it's still warm", he said as you sat at the dining table.

"Now can you tell me if there's something wrong?", you wondered as you poured some of the wine he kept for you at his place on your glass.

"I have something to tell you actually", he played with his glass while he fought the smile on his lips, "this weekend I finally had some conversations with McLaren", he began.

"McLaren?", you asked as you served yourself of the food in front of you, taking some bimi brocoli and then some of the warm noodles.

"Yes, McLaren. We finally spoke about contracts and, this morning, I signed the official driver contract for next season", he stated as if he was saying that the sun had been out today.

"You did what? Since when has this been in the works?", you gasped, dropping the kitchen utensils and looking at him intently, "you're driving for McLaren next season?", he nodded, "like, driving on track? Oh my Goodness, Oscar! That's amazing!", you got up and hugged him, "why didn't you lead with that?", you pinched the nape of his neck playfully as you kept the tears from falling from your eyes. This was his dream and he was getting to live it as early as the end of the year when pre season preparations began.

"I didn't want to tell you over the phone", he shrugged his shoulders.

"But how? This is huge, Oscar!", you smiled, your teeth showing and eyes squinting with how high your cheeks rose.

"There were a lot of conversations about it, specially the last few weeks", Oscar explained, "they still want to keep it quiet", he warned.

"So you're driving alongside Lando?", you wondered. You only followed motorsport and the Formula series because of your bestfriend, so the assumption you made was based on what you had seen and read.

"Yes, hence why they want to keep it quiet, I've only told you and my family", he mentioned, "my manager knows that, obviously, but I really need you to keep quiet about it", he smiled.

"Absolutely, don't worry!", you assured, "this is so amazing Oscar! You're going to drive in Formula One! Aren't you amazed?", you beamed.

"I put in the work too, you know?", he dramatically feigned offense as you hugged him tighter, "this is your dream, Osc", you cooed, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you swayed you both around, "I'm so proud of you", you hiccuped, holding his head close to your lips so you could kiss his forehead.

"Let's eat, this is getting cold", your best friend urged as the situation for more intimate and brought you closer and closer to the thing he had been avoiding for nearly a year.

The feelings he had been arbouring for you weren't just friendship. How could he keep himself from being in love with you? You had been there with him and for him when he was alone in a new country, being the other shy kid that spent the long weekend im boarding school, and since then you had been attached by the hip. You were kind, caring, intelligent, beautiful inside and outside and anyone would be a fool to not see why Oscar felt the way he did about you.

.

"I'm just going to a training camp, Y/N, I do these every year!", Oscar reasoned as you groaned.

"Who am I going to complain to about university? Or how noisy my neighbours are? I'm going to die of boredom", you stated, "when you come back, I will have ceased to exist because of boredom and lack of attention", you exaggeratedly threw yourself on your sofa.

"You won't, silly", he chuckled, pulling you up since his trainer was picking him up soon, "you're going to go out and enjoy yourself, okay? You'll barely notice I'm gone", he tried as you helped him with his suitcases down to the door.

"I'll miss you", you muttered as you hugged him, "enjoy your training camp!", you smiled as you pulled away, waving at him before you made your way to your place.

Getting on with the project you had to hand in at the end of the week, you got it all through to the end, leaving time to proofread later.

You clicked on the folder where you kept your photos and videos, looking through them and reliving all of the memories you had in there.

Most of them had Oscar somehow, wether it was a screen grab from one of your FaceTime calls when he was at races, picnics in the park and lazy days at your place.

You had to admit it, for your sake and Oscar's sake as your friendship was on the line. At first you thought it was just the fact that a boy seemed to want to spend time with you, so you put it to that. Recently, however, things changed perspective and you felt stronger feelings and emotions when you thought about him.

You loved spending time with him and cherished every single hour he chose to spend with you whenever he didn't have racing related duties. Every time he hugged you, you clung just a little longer to feel hia body against yours and his arms enveloping you.

Whenever someone approached you in the rare times you went out clubbing with your friends, "I have a boyfriend" became more a wish and a need rather than some made up excuse to get guys to leave you alone.

So, to sum it up, you either had an honest conversation with him or continued to dwell on feelings you couldn't keep to yourself.

.

"Y/N just sent me a picture of her notes, can you believe they ask them to know all of that?", he showed his trainer Kim while they had lunch after a strenuous workout.

"I had to learn most of that, too", he said nonchalantly, not necessarily diminishing your competences and intelligence but letting Oscar know that maybe his infatuation with you had a source elsewhere.

"Y/N is very smart, I'm sure she'll do really well - oh, she sent me a picture, she's all dressed up!", he said as he inspected the mirror picture. He assumed it was a requirement for your presentation, as you usually preferred comfy attire, since you had a pair of trousers and a shirt, some small heels on your feet and your bright smile that left him feeling butterflies in his stomach every single time, "she looks gorgeous", he said as he texted you the same words along with wishes of good luck.

"Something you'd like to say?", Oscar quesioned when he felt Kim's eyes on him as he put the phone back on the table, screen down.

"I'm just here wondering why you're not together", the trainer offered simply after he wiped his mouth on the napkin.

"No, we are not together, at least not yet", he mused. The thought had crossed his mind, admitting how he felt about you before the season began. If everything went belly up and you didn't feel the same and didn't see him that way, he would occupy his time and channel all of his energy into racing; if you did feel the same, he would have been worrying for nothing and would have a extra spring up his step for his first season in Formula One.

"Good to know you're working on it", Kim waved his fork at Oscar, "now we need to finish this and we'll do some recovery stretches", he announced as Oscar groaned, prolonging his meal as long as he could.

.

Today, Oscar was coming back from Lanzarote and you couldn't wait to speak to him. Lately, it all dawned on you.

It happened a couple of nights ago, a slight insomnia episode keeping you up when you thought about what things would be like from now on. Oscar would travel a lot more, and he would be in a much public role compared to his previous one. It would seem stupid to other people, but a lot more people would know him, and you were sure they would fall in love with him. How could they not? Hence why you wanted to quit those thoughts while you were ahead of them.

I'm on the cab to your place, it should take another 10 minutes and Can't wait to see you, Oscar texted you just as you finished tidying your living room.

You missed him dearly, so when you threw yourself into his arms, you didn't let go as he kicked his suitcases into your apartment while still holding close to him, "I kind of need to get my backpack off my back, and I can't do that if I don't set you somewhere - only for a bit at the very least", Oscar suggested after trying to balance you against his body with one arm but he didn't feel safe enough to let you go without you falling.

Reluctantly, you got back down, feet back on the floor as he discarded his backpack before he tapped your hip twice, "up again, I want a proper hug", he mumbled as you jumped back, his hands protectively holding your thighs up as he nuzzled his face on your neck, "I need you so, so much", he sighed.

"I missed you too", you replied back, "and I don't ever want to miss you like this when I don't know how to feel about you", you forwarded. Now or never, you thought as you jumped out of his hold and faced him.

"I missed you like I have never missed you before, not even when you go a visit your family or when you went away for triple headers - and I've been trying to understand why and I finally realised what it was. I like you, more than friends like eachother - for Goodness' sake, I'm in love with you", you chuckled nervously as you admitted it out loud to him, "and everyone else will love you too - I just know it -, so soon enough you won't be my Osc anymore and I couldn't not tell you. People - and these gorgeous girls all over the world - are going to like you so much and I won't be able to compete with them, so I'm just telling you how I feel. You can leave if you want or we'll just stay here in silence of that works too, but I needed to admit my feelings", you let out in one go.

Oscar smiled, a big teeth and gums showing smile as his eyes crinkled at your words, "I'm not leaving, and we are not going to be silent - at least immediately - because I want to tell you how I feel", he began, "I'm in love with you too; I have been for about two years and only realised it a year ago, and I don't want to pretend anymore. I want to be able to kiss you, to hug you, to take you with me wherever possible, to sleep next to you, to argue with you, I want all of it. With you", he said, hand cupping your cheek as his eyes asked for consent to kiss your lips.

It was as you dreamed it would be, soft, gentle and caring, lips moving in sync as you held him by his waist, pulling him closer to you.

"I thought I was loosing you to the whole F1 fandom", you chuckled, looking up at him once you pulled away.

"Of course you won't, you're my best girl", he winked, "this is just the beggining for us", he added as he pulled you to cuddle on the sofa, sharing his stories of the past days as you revelled in the feeling of being in his arms.

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 51)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

With the wedding coming up, Cillian and you made even more of an effort to remain on good terms than you ever did before. While he was away, filming the Peaky Blinders Movie, you video called him so that Mara could see her daddy every day.

Every day, before she went to bed, you allowed Cillian to read her a story over the webcam, whenever he was able to.

It was a small gesture that meant a lot to Mara, and it helped her and Cillian to maintain a connection despite the distance.

Your therapist welcomed the positive communication and reminded you that you were doing an implacable job by keeping him involved even despite his busy schedule. 

During that time, you also noticed a slight change in Cillian's behavior. He seemed more relaxed, more at ease with himself, and with you. 

"So, what's the plan for Mara's birthday next week?" he asked one evening when he skyped in from London.

"I was thinking a party actually. She has been at daycare twice a week and made some friends. I was going to invite them and their parents. My mum, Siobhan and Emma are coming too, and I think even your mum is driving down from Cork. I also invited two friends from my mother's group," you said, filled with enthusiasm for Mara's big day.

Cillian chuckled, his eyes filled with warmth. "Sounds like you got everything planned out," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. 

"You know it would be nice for Mara if you could come,"  you added, hoping that he might be able to make the trip.

"I would love to," he said, "but you know I can't leave the set, Y/N. I have a busy schedule filming and I'm just hoping that things will ease up a bit in the next couple of weeks," Cillian said with sadness in his voice. 

You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, but you knew that filming was important for Cillian's career.

"I know, but what I am saying is that you are more than welcome to come if you wanted to," you repeated, looking him straight in the eyes through the camera.

"And I appreciate that, really," he nodded, taking a deep breath. "But I still need to wrap up this movie." 

"I understand," you said softly, biting your bottom lip. "And, you know, you can always celebrate with her when you come back by taking her to the zoo or something. She probably won't remember the party anyway, but she will also remember the zoo," you chuckled, seeing how it was Mara's favorite place to go these days. 

"You are probably right you know," Cillian conceded, his expression softening even further. "Now, did you call the carpenter to fix up the shelving in the living room? I told him that you would call and to invoice for it. You might need that done before the party," he continued, seeing how one of the built in shelves had collapsed after you tried to carry out some DYI work on it. 

"No, he can't do it until the week after next, but Sean offered to fix it for me before the party which is nice,"  you informed him, noticing how Cillian's expression changed for a second.

"Sean, huh?" Cillian chuckled; his expression unreadable but you could hear a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Don't start, Cillian! Don't fucking start!" you shot back with irk, already feeling the familiar burn in the pit of your stomach.

"I didn't even say anything," Cillian smirked, his eyes glimmering as he studied your reaction.

"Then why are you acting the way you are when I bring up his name?" you asked, rolling your shoulders back, trying to release some tension in your body.

"I'm not. It's none of my business who you spend your time with so long as you keep Mara out of it," Cillian growled, scratching the back of his neck impatiently.

"You know what, I was actually thinking about inviting him to the party, as a friend of course and only if you would allow it. Because he has been a big help those last few days, running errands for me for her party while I was sitting my exams and he asked me whether he could come," you told Cillian nonchalantly, secretly enjoying his reaction.

"Oh, did he now?" Cillian said with a sigh as he adjusted the display setting. "So, you two are getting more serious then?" he enquired  without looking at you.

You could tell he was slightly irritated, he clearly didn't want to give you the satisfaction of seeing it on his face.

"Well, we are still taking things slow and we not being too serious about it. We agreed on no labels, but I still only consider him as a friend, with benefits,"  you replied, being brutally honest while watching Cillian's reactions closely.

"So poor Sean is still in the friend zone then, eh?"  Cillian quipped, the corner of his mouth curling into a slight smirk before he quickly hid it.

You noticed it, and it stung a little, but you tried not to let it get to you.

"Yes," you confirmed, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression. "He has been very supportive and helpful lately and I like having him around, but there is no pressure between us. We are both free to see other people. That's the way it is for now."

Cillian nodded, turning his gaze back to the camera. "Fair enough and thank you for clarifying your relationship status for me. I just hope he knows that too, because I am not the one who needs convincing Y/N," Cillian said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Whatever Cillian. Can you just give me an answer?"  you asked, your patience wearing thin.

Cillian's smirk faded, to be replaced by a look of annoyance. "What do you want me to say, Y/N? I don't want Sean around my daughter," he said firmly.

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Why not? He is a decent person and Mara won't even know who he is. There are other people there who are no more than friends either and there most certainly won't be any public display of affection," you argued , trying to reason with him.

Cillian sighed deeply, knowing that he couldn't win this argument. "Fine. He can come, but only if you make sure that nothing happens between the two of you that Mara might see, at least not until you are serious about him which, it clearly seems, will never happen," he relented , eliminating any obvious doubts in your mind.

***

Your mind began working overtime to decide a strategic approach to the situation. On one hand, you were glad that Cillian was allowing Sean to attend the party, but on the other hand, the caveat gave you a sense of unease. 

You explained the situation to Sean on your next date when your mother was looking after Mara and, much to your surprise, he was very understanding about it.

"My parents separated when I was twelve Y/N. I get it, so don't worry, okay? I don't even have to come. I can help you set up and then leave before Mara and your mum arrive," Sean suggested, trying to make things as easy as possible for both of you.

"I really appreciate that Sean, but I don't want you to feel like you have to leave on my account, especially since you have been helping me so much those last few days," you  told him sincerely.

"And I like helping you Y/N, because I know that being a single mum can be hard. Your ex hasn't really been making an effort to be here for Mara lately, so if I can do anything to help, I will," Sean replied with conviction.

"Cillian is away filming. That's his job Sean," you explained wearily, wondering if he had brought this up to upset you or validate his actions. 

"I know, but he should really make an effort to be there for his daughter's first birthday, don't you think?"  Sean queried, a hint of frustration coloring his voice.

"Maybe, but it's not my place to say or judge what he does, because he is still looking after us both," you responded, attempting to defuse the tension that had suddenly risen between you. "So, lets change the topic shall we?" you suggested, trying to keep the mood light and pleasant. 

"I am sorry Y/N. You are right," Sean sighed, taking a deep breath before giving you a gentle kiss.

***

Later that day, after you picked up Mara and Sean went his separate way to catch up with some of his friends, he couldn't help but feel slightly let down by the conversation he had with you about the upcoming birthday party and confided in a friend about it.

"Dude, you're acting like you are in some kind of relationship with this chick," his friend Mark joked, taking a swig of his beer. "You told me that you two agreed to be friends with benefits. You don't owe her anything other than your time while you are hooking up and she doesn't owe you anything either! So why do you even want to go to that kid's birthday party?"

Sean sighed, shaking his head as he stared out the bar window at the busy cobblestone street outside.

"Because I want to make an effort for her daughter and make her see that I could actually be right for her, you know?" Sean replied, finally giving voice to his true feelings. "It's just that she is so damn stubborn most of the time, and I know that she still has feelings for her ex, which I can't really compete with."

Mark chuckled, slapping Sean on the back. "Well, he is Thomas Fucking Shelby, man," he laughed, burying the rest of his beer in one swift gulp. 

"You are not helping Mark!" Sean rolled his eyes at his friend's remark. "I am trying here, you know?"  Sean said, sighing again, exasperated.

"I know, and Y/N is a lucky woman to have you," Mark smiled, clinking his empty bottle against Sean's before signaling for another round. "But dude, you need to just relax and stop worrying about her ex. If she wants to be with you, she will. It's that simple."

"She said she just wants to be friends and I don't even want her to meet you guys because I am worried that I will look like a fool when she decides to go back to  her ex," Sean sighed, sitting down on the couch in his apartment, feeling frustrated. "I mean, how am I seriously going to compete with someone like him, a famous fucking Hollywood actor?" Sean mumbled to himself as he paced around his apartment. 

"You may not be able to, but she may also just play hard to get, which is what a lot of women seem to do these days," Mark reminded him thoughtfully as he watched Sean struggle with his thoughts. "Maybe you should focus on being the best version of yourself for your sake and not for hers, and then she will soon see if you are right for her or not," Mark added with a raised eyebrow. "Or you could find something that makes her ex look really bad. He is famous enough, so surely, with the right help, you can dig up some dirt," Mark suggested with a sly grin and Sean's brow furrowed as he contemplated Mark's words, his mind racing with ideas of how he could ruin Cillian for you, once and for all. 

"Maybe I should try, yeah, but I don't want to fight dirty. Despite, I don't even know him or anyone who hangs out with him other than Y/N herself," he said, his morals preventing him from considering such a devious course of action.

"Well, let me help you then," Mark offered, pulling out his phone and conducting a quick online search. "I work for the Irish Times after all," his friend smirked,  focusing on the task at hand. 

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