#and this has been happening for weeks apparently

[aurorawritestoescape]

HIS STAR || Joel Miller x f!reader || 2,7k

Summary: Joel and you met a few years ago, being aspiring musicians, and fell in love. Now you’re a rising star while Joel is struggling with his career. One night you come to his place and share big news.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, ANGST, fluff, unspecified age gap, Joel’s pov, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, heartbreak, alcohol consumption, swearing. Pics are only for the mood. Reader wears a dress.

A/n: this is written for @the-orange-tabby-cat ‘s writing challenge (my ask is here). I hope you all will like the story. I’m sending everyone who’s been hurting this week a warm hug and lots of love🫂❤️ Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

MASTERLIST

You waltz into his apartment late at night and Joel’s dim living room seems not that dim, his sad life not that sad. Because you are finally here.

Before you came, it was quiet here, still and dull, and now you're twirling around like a shiny twister, wearing your expensive dress, dropping glitter on his faded carpet. You turn the lights on, place the take out you brought on the coffee table and pour him a glass of his favorite whiskey.

Joel's sitting on his worn out couch, watching you with a warm smile, while you're chirping with excitement, telling him about everything at once— the people you've met, the songs you've written, the places you've visited. It seems like he has grown into his old apartment while you're taking over the city, the country, the whole world.

It’s ok. He’s happy for you. Truly.

You can’t come often, only once or twice a month if he’s lucky, your busy schedule be damned, but every time you visit, Joel’s heart overflows with happiness. More often than here he sees you on billboards, beautiful and happy, your face smiles at him from the t-shirts of teenagers, passing him by on the street. You’re always on his mind and in his heart. Always were and always will be.

You both dreamed of becoming professional singers. He met you at one of his gigs in a small bar in Texas. You were too young for him, too beautiful, too talented. But at that time, years ago, he still loved himself and foolishly thought that he deserved you. You fell for each other fast and hard and started climbing that steep mountain together.

You came into his life when he was about to quit the chase but your drive, your passion and talent gave him a second wind. You wrote songs together, lying naked in bed after mind-blowing sex, sang them at the top of your lungs on road trips to various music festivals, supported each other every step of the way. He kissed salty tears off your face after every failure, celebrated with you when you succeeded, which started happening more and more often. His demos were collecting dust on the shelves while your career skyrocketed. Joel kept holding your hand until the moment he realized that he was looking up at you while you were standing on top of the mountain you both had dreamed about, too high for him to reach.

At first envy would squeeze his heart with its freezing hand - he wished to be standing there with you. But terrified of losing you, of ruining your relationship because of that ugly feeling, he taught himself to quiet the nagging voice inside his head and to be happy for you, to feel joy, witnessing your success, even from afar.

After some time it became apparent to him that he was too average, one of many. You were different. One in a million. A star. His star.

Joel continued singing in small clubs, he still needed music like air, but hope for something bigger, brighter was slowly dying in his heart.

Now you’re in his arms, on his lap, tired and slightly cold.

“These tiny dresses of yours— fuckin’ useless— gonna get sick like that,” Joel grumbles under his breath, covering you both with a throw blanket, and you immediately melt against him. Your scent is different every time you visit, he’s enveloped in something sweet and flowery today, but the taste of your lips is the same. Always. They’re intoxicating, soft and desperate. Your hands are eager to touch him, your body pressed tightly to his.

”I miss you,“ you mumble and your tongue slides over his lower lip. His heart sings when a shiver runs over your whole body. You want him. You can have anyone you want and you still choose him every time. He doesn’t know why but he’s grateful for each moment he gets to spend with you, holding you. Fucking you.

“Joel—need you,” you whine and deepen the kiss. Hungry and long-awaited, it soon morphs into a scorching fire, burning you both. A whimper falling from your lips sounds almost pained.

“Yes, baby, yes—jus’ a second,” Joel murmurs and swiftly lifts you so you could straddle him. With trembling fingers you pull down the waistband of his sweatpants and take his cock out. Your panties pulled to the side, you sink on his hardening cock, without preparation, without foreplay. The desire is too strong. Joel is swelling bigger and harder inside your core as soon as your wet walls welcome him, so warm and tight around his manhood.

“Missed you, baby.”

“Yes—yes—missed you— so—so— much,“ you echo him, your words falling with the same rhythm as you move yourself up and down on his lap, bouncing on his length. Then you kiss every inch of his handsome face— his chapped lips, his scruffy cheeks, every wrinkle and every mole which you could draw by heart.

His hands leave your waist and slither down to take your dress off. In a moment you’re naked in his arms, you, the subject of desire of so many people is right in front of him, just a kiss away. And he kisses you, your neck, your collarbone, your bouncing breasts. He licks at your nipples, sucks each tit into his mouth and you sing only for him, your most intimate song.

Joel’s t-shirt rides up and he feels how wet you’re for him as your folds and clit are rubbing against his lower belly. You’re chasing your pleasure feverishly and he already feels how your little pussy starts pulsating around his big cock.

“Come for me, my love.”

His gruff voice in your ear sends a signal to your brain and the sound you love the most pushes you over the edge. You’re crying and shaking, coming all over his stiffness, always so sensitive to the ecstasy he gives you, and he lets you soak him, both with your tears and you cum.

“Yes—yeah, sweetheart— ride it out— c’mon.” He’s lifting you up and down with his strong hands, wishing to give you more moments of euphoria as you tremble and whimper in his arms and soon he explodes inside you with a groan that rings loudly in his quiet apartment. He presses you tight against his chest but without leaving any marks on your soft skin, skin that millions of people could see tomorrow. He’s nuzzling the crease of your neck while his cock is pumping you full of his warm seed.

You’re leaning against Joel’s chest now, still straddling him, his member slowly softening inside you. Your eyes close by themselves, lulled by his heavy breathing, but you drive the sleep away. You need to tell him something, to ask him.

You slide off his lap, feeling your thighs getting wetter, and pull him to lie down with you on the couch. Joel tucks his cock back into the sweatpants and throws the blanket over you two. You face him and your eyes lock. Your mouth opens but then closes again.

“What is it, baby? Tell me.”

He always reads you like a book. You seem anxious.

After clearing your throat you whisper,

“I’m going on a world tour.”

Joel is quiet for a few seconds until he grabs you and hugs you. His chest is rumbling with a joyous laugh and you giggle when he squeezes you too tight and kisses the crown of your head, your forehead, your mouth. You melt into him again, feeling his smile on your lips.

When he parts from you, his eyes are glossy and warm.

”Your first world tour! I’m so damn proud of you, my love!”

You can’t help but tear up, seeing him genuinely happy, and you kiss him again and then murmur a shaky “thank you.”

“Joel. I wanted to ask you—,” you’re looking at his chest now, eyes averted, your sweaty palms placed over his heart, ”I’m gonna be traveling for a whole year… and... I wanted to ask… Will you go with me?”

Joel’s eyes are darting between yours. You look sleepy, tired and gorgeous. He pulls you close to his chest and embraces you.

“Let’s talk in the mornin’, baby. You need rest.”

You look at him for a few moments, your eyes piercing and then ask with a half smile, “Could you sing for me?”

With you lying in his arms, Joel starts softly singing your favourite song, the one he wrote for you, one of dozens he wrote for you.

He keeps singing when your breath gets deep and slow and you’re purring like a little kitten, your head on his biceps, and Joel can’t stop looking at you, can’t stop singing to you until his voice breaks, his eyes sting, and he holds his breath, scared to wake you up with a sob, crawling up his throat.

Here it is. Joel always knew that the time would come. The time when something big would happen, and he would have to do the right thing. Would have to let you go.

He takes a deep breath again and again, trying to calm himself down. He blinks the tears away and feels them on his cheeks. Your face is blurry in his eyes at first but he keeps watching you sleep, memorizing your every feature, as if there’s any chance he’s ever going to forget them. Your image is carved into his heart forever.

It’s not like you two haven’t talked about it before— why you come to him only at night, why you need to be extra careful not to be seen by paparazzi.

It’s still hard to accept for the both of you that Joel is your secret. Your label doesn’t want him around you and Joel understands it. He’s been trying to make it in this business for too long not to know how things work. It hurts but it’s the reality.

And the reality is making him stomp on his heart and break yours.

In your sleep you snuggle even closer to him and with your forehead against his heart he drifts off too. As always he dreams of you.

A few hours pass before you wake him up, stirring in his embrace. Your smiling face welcomes him when he opens his eyes.

“Morning, Joel.”

The dust of mascara on your cheeks, your hair disheveled, you look angelic in the soft glow of the early morning sun peeking through the drapes. Joel’s breath hitches for a second, your beauty overwhelms him, until the pain hits him right in the chest. He has to tell you.

You get up and, after putting on his flannel, pad to the bathroom. When you return, Joel’s sitting up and you take your favorite spot, you get on his lap. Your soft kisses caress his scruffy cheeks until you search for his eyes.

“So—about the tour— what do you say?” you ask, giving him a little smile, your eyes full of hope. Joel feels his heart beating fast and loud. He knows you feel it too, your warm hand is resting on his chest. He takes it, brings it to his mouth and kisses your palm.

“I can’t, baby.”

In your gaze he sees that you knew what he was going to say. You don’t look shocked, but you look crushed.

”Wh—why not?”

Still on his lap, you start hastily telling him why he should go, that it’s going to be fun, that it’s another opportunity for his career, and he lets you tell him all that, he doesn’t interrupt you.

“I can’t do this alone, Joel. I’m scared,” you mumble at the end, looking tired after your pitch, and press your forehead to his chest. Joel hugs you and starts rubbing your flannel-covered back with his hands.

“Remember what your team told you? I’m not good for your image. An old loser like me.”

You break his embrace and sit up, your gaze fiery, your chest heaving.

“You’re not, Joel! I don’t give a fuck what they say. I love you and — ” your voice breaks as tears start flowing down your cheeks.

You slide off his lap and sit next to him, crying. Joel wants to grab you, kiss your lips, comfort you, but he knows it’ll make it harder. For the both of you. His gruff voice is a little shaky when he talks.

“I shouldn’t go. You must understand why. And it’s gonna be ok. You’re a fuckin’ star! Now go and show it to the world.”

You turn your head to him, your wet face twisted with sadness, as you mumble through sobs,

“I—I can’t spend— a whole —year without you”.

“Baby—,” Joel takes a deep breath before ripping the band aid off. ”—I’m movin’ back to Texas”.

You turn to him on the couch.

“What?! Why?!”

Because he sees your face everywhere he goes. It would hurt too much. After this. After today.

So he lies. But only partially.

“Los Angeles isn’t for me. I hate it. Everything here reminds me that I failed.” He raises his hand when you open your mouth, ready to argue. “I’ve tried, sweetheart. You know I have. But it’s not in the stars. Tommy offered me a job. Contractin’. That’s what I’m gonna do for a start, then we’ll see.”

You drop your head and sit quietly for a few moments. Joel swallows loudly, his stomach twisted with nerves. It feels like he’s going to be sick.

When you look up at him again, your brows are furrowed, eyes reddened.

“What about us?”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“I’m too old and you have a whole life ahead of you. Long, successful, happy life. I won’t hold you back. I love you too much to do it. You don’t need me.”

“Doesn’t sound like you love me,” you hiss at him, your pain turning to anger quickly.

You jump off the couch and grab your dress off the floor after almost ripping his flannel off your body.

“I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me!” you exclaim, standing in front of him, getting dressed, while he’s looking up at you with a pained expression.

“You’re telling me you love me but then you say all this shit?! You won’t even fight for us! For me!”

“But I’m doin’ it for you!” He hates to shout but it’s hard to control his emotions as they’re ripping his heart to shreds.

“Then why do I feel like you’re killing me right now?!” You take a small step towards him, your hand reaching for his. “We can see the world together—wake up together every morning and—“

Joel gets up and holds you by the shoulders, trying to make you listen.

“Stop lyin’ to yourself! Go live your life! Quit returnin’ to me! I’m your past and you still come here jus’ because you’re scared of the future! We had fun together, baby, but now it’s over!”

You shake your head in disbelief, your mouth agape, and then you angrily swat his hands away.

“Fuck you, Joel!”

These are the last words you tell him before storming out. The last words you ever tell him.

He still hears you crying in the hall when he shuts the door behind you. His forehead pressed to the wood, eyes closed, he listens and feels like everything good in his life is leaving with you. He hears the elevator ding and then nothing.

His apartment is quiet again until a loud wail shutters the silence. Joel knows that he’s done the right thing. Then why does it feel like he’s dying?

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<3

MASTERLIST || more angst - Always and Forever

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[cevansbrat0007]

Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude

Summary: You accidentally trigger Ari's jealous streak. Takes place directly after the events in Guessing Games.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Jealous!Ari, Innocent Flirting, Stupid Men, Manhandling, Mentions of Spanking, Discussions of Self-Image, Mentions of Lingerie, Semi-Public Sex, Allusions to Fingering, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: After a shitty week, please enjoy this completely self-indulgent fic. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Hey. I know this car.” You think as you come to stand in front of a vehicle on display that happens to look strangely familiar. Smoothing your hands down the skirt of your sundress, you manage a quick side-step, narrowly avoiding a collision with a small child who was too busy enjoying his ice cream cone to pay attention to where he was going. 

You’ve been wandering around Fulton County’s annual Classic Car Showcase for the better part of an hour now, and so far things were going better than you’d expected. And not only that, but you were even beginning to have fun.

“I can see why this one caught your eye.” A familiar voice muses as he comes up behind you. 

“I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen it before. But I’m drawing a blank.” Angling your body, you reach for one of Ari’s big hands, grasping it with both of yours. “Any ideas?” 

“You really don’t recognize it?” 

“‘Fraid not.” Your lips purse as you continue to wrack your brain. 

“It’s an exact replica of The General Lee, the 1969 Dodge Charger driven by Bo and Luke.” 

“Who?” You stare up at him confused. 

That earns you a chuckle, followed by him placing a gentle kiss atop your head. “Bo and Luke. From The Dukes of Hazzard. It was a popular show back in the eighties.” He explains, brushing a stray curl away from your face.

“Oh. Got it.” You nod, pretending to understand. “Mystery solved.”

You both stand there a few moments longer – mostly so he can admire the engine, or whatever the hell you assumed he was doing. Once he’s looked his fill, it’s apparently time to move on to the next car that catches his interest. You’re seemingly content to trail behind him until you happen to spot a nearby cluster of tents. 

“Ari?” 

“Yeah, little Bird?” The rich timbre of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it.

“I reckon all this car hoppin’ has me feelin’ a little parched.” You tell him, turning your attention to the concessions located just across the lot. “I’m gonna go fetch myself a lemonade real quick while the lines are short.”

As expected, your man responds without missing a beat. But not before leading you over to the shade so that you can continue your conversation. Which was a good thing seeing as the temperature outside was hovering around the mid-eighties.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Mirroring your smile, he brings your hand to his lips so that he can kiss the ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s go get you somethin’ to drink.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go while you hang out here in the shade.” Your palms come up to rest against the hard wall of his chest. “Besides,” you continue when he opens his mouth to object. “It’s not like I’m going far. I’ll just  be right over there.”  

“Nah.” Ari swiftly disagrees, adjusting his sunglasses. “How about you wait here while I go get us both something to drink?”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep.” He gently flicks the tip of your nose. “After all, what kinda man would I be if I left my sweetheart out here to melt?”

“I mean…if you insist.” Rising on your toes – a feat made easier thanks to your wedge heels – you plant a smooch on his bearded cheek. “Hurry back, sugar.” 

Now that he’s officially a man on a mission, Ari wastes almost no time making a beeline for the concessions. But not before issuing a stern warning to you, his curious little Bird.

“Don’t you go wanderin’ off on me, darlin’.” He growls, leaning down to tenderly peck your lips . “I expect to find you right here in this spot when I come back.” 

And then he’s gone. You barely have time to respond with a playful salute before he’s striding off in search of sustenance for you both. Leaving you alone to twiddle your thumbs while you dutifully await his return. 

Not that you minded. If anything, grateful for this brief respite from the heat. It never crosses your mind to abandon your spot in favor of looking at more cars. At least, not until you spy one that has you gasping in pure delight.

“Woah.” You breathe as you come to stand in front of the one vehicle with the power to transport you straight back to your childhood: a 1958 Plymouth Fury.  

Better known as the car from Stephen King’s novel, Christine. 

You’d absolutely loved this movie as a kid. So much so that your Uncle had bought you your own personal copy after he got tired of renting it for you weekend after weekend. Why, you must’ve seen it over a hundred times. 

But as luck would have it, your private glee is interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up behind you. 

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” The man asks, his southern drawl growing even more inviting when he tips his black stetson. “Restored her myself.” 

“Holy crap! It looks just like the one from the film.” You chirp, reaching out to run your fingers along the shiny finish before swiftly thinking better of it. “Sorry.” Is all you can manage as you turn to face him. “I just…never thought I’d get the chance to see it in person.”

“Well…” The dark haired cowboy admits, flashing a chagrined smile. “It’s not actually the car. But it’s pretty dang close. Took me a few years, seeing that pretty smile of yours makes it all worth it.” His smile only grows wider as he holds out his hand to you. “The name’s Russell, by the way.”

You two spend a few more moments exchanging names and pleasantries before he politely redirects the attention back to the prized vehicle in front of you. Russell invites you to ask all the questions you like, only to laugh when you eagerly take him up on his offer. 

In fact, you’re enjoying the conversation so much that you hardly notice when he slowly begins inching closer to you, his leanly muscled frame almost boxing you in. He was charming – you’d give him that much. And easy on the eyes.

Russell was the type of man who warranted a second look. Or at least he would. That is, assuming you hadn’t already been blessed with the gift of Ari Daniel Levinson. 

“You know,” He murmurs, his cool gaze warming as he boldly peruses your dress. “Something tells me this conversation would pair wonderfully with a glass of wine.” His hand reaches for yours once more. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” The shocked apology comes tumbling out of your mouth. “I–I can’t. I actually came with someone. He’s–”

“Look, I don’t wanna be too forward.” Russell smoothly interrupts, stroking his thumb along the ridge of your knuckles. “But I haven’t been able to let you out of my sight since I saw you damn near an hour ago. Honestly can’t remember the last time I came across a woman as sweet as you.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say.” You reply, intending to let him down easy.

“I saw that fella you were with.” He continues in earnest, still refusing to relinquish his grip on your hand. “Also saw him walk off and abandon you too.” 

“He didn’t �� no one abandoned anybody!” Closing your eyes, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. You weren’t used to men hitting on you like this. It has you feeling way out of your depth. 

“Be that as it may, I also believe in fate.” His already gravelly voice dips an octave. “I mean, I’ve come to this showcase year after year and never once have I met someone like you.” 

“I…I’m not sure I’d go that far.” You hedge as you weigh your options. 

On one hand, you really did want to be polite. But you also needed to be firm. You already had a man in your life. A man who owned you – mind, body, and soul. Not that you’d had any say in the matter. But these days, you were well past complaining about the handsome Beast of a man you’d come to cherish.

“Think about it.” Your would-be suitor implores, giving you a gentle squeeze. “There has to be a reason our paths crossed today.” 

Alright. It was officially time to put a nail in this coffin. You open your mouth to respond, only to have someone else beat you to the punch. 

“I think it’s about time you let go of her hand.” Ari rumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “Now.”

“Something I can help you with, buddy?” Russell responds without hesitation, clearly annoyed by the other man’s sudden reappearance. “Because the lady and I were in the middle of a conversation.”

“And I’m sure it was a great one.” Your bounty hunter is too busy glaring at his apparent rival to pay you any real mind. Although, he’s quick to shove a cup of what you suspect to be lemonade into your palm the second Russell releases his hold. “Too bad it’s over now. Let’s go, sweet Bird.” 

The ice in his tone is enough to make you shiver. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ari was none too happy to find you entertaining the company of another man. But the last thing you’d expected was for him to be jealous. 

Unless you were reading things wrong. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait, fella.” Russell surprises everyone by coming to stand almost nose-to-nose with Ari. “Because she and I were about to take the ride out for a little spin.” 

“We most certainly were not.” You try, impatiently tugging on his arm. “Ari, let’s just go.” Although, you’re not surprised when you end up being completely ignored. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Guess that’s what happens when you abandon a pretty little flower like her all alone in an empty field.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Russelly makes a point of poking your man in his chest. “I’m just glad I was lucky enough to be here to catch your mistake.”

Worry fills you when you see Ari simply nod along, his brawny shoulders wrought with tension. Sucking on his teeth, the bounty hunter briefly looks away as he forces himself to take a calming breath. Not that it seems to help any. 

“You know what? I get it. No, really–I do.” Ari smirks, reaching up to lightly scratch at his jaw. “I knew what I was getting into, walking into a showcase like this with a beautiful woman on my arm, wearin’ the hell out of that dress.” One thick arm wraps itself around your waist, hauling you close. “My girl turns heads everywhere she goes. She’s just too sweet to realize it.”

Tucking you behind him, your man bridges the last bit of distance between himself and Russell. And while you can’t see his face, you’re shocked when he gently lifts his rival’s hat from his head, before tossing it in the direction of his forgotten plymouth. 

“And sometimes that sweetness makes cowboys do stupid fuckin’ things.” Ari continues, sounding almost smug. But you don’t miss the danger in his tone. “Which is why I’m gonna be the bigger man right now and walk away, before I give into the urge to find out if you have what it takes to make the long drive home with a fractured arm.”

“Alright, that’s enough from you two.” You snap, finally fed up with all this male posturing. After all this nonsense, you just wanted to sit down and enjoy your drink before all the ice melted. “Russell, cool car. But I’m not interested, okay? And as for you, Ari…”

In lieu of responding, your man chooses to quirk one impatient, tawny brow. 

“You’re looking a little flushed. I think it’s time we got you outta the sun.” Grabbing his wrist, you proceed to physically drag him away from the scene. It takes virtually all your might, but you’re grateful when his legs finally begin to move.

You don’t stop walking until you reach a set of picnic tables that are far enough away from the show to give you both some much needed privacy while you hashed things out. 

“Darlin’, I can tell by your face you’re fixin’ to yell.” Ari growls, yanking his arm out of your grasp. "And I'd like to make my case before you start." His frown only deepens as he watches you perch on the edge of a bench, but not before taking a dramatic sip of your ice cold lemonade. 

It tastes divine – the perfect treat for a hot summer’s day.

“Did you really have to throw the poor man’s hat?” You ask, fanning yourself.

“Probably not. But it felt good.” He shrugs, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Should’ve stuffed his ass in the goddamned trunk while I was at it.” 

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I was in the process of letting him down easy.”

“Could’ve sworn I told your bratty self to stay put where I fuckin’ left you.” His normally clear blue eyes glitter dangerously, letting you know that he’s pissed. “I mean, it was bad enough waitin’ in line listening to two idiots talk about which one of ‘em was gonna be brave enough to ask for your number…”

“Yeah right.” You scoff, looking up at the sky as you pray for patience.

“Roll ‘em at me one more time, baby. Swear to God.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what the hell he’d been thinking bringing you to something like this with you wearing a dress like that. “I’m just itchin’ for a reason to lift that skirt and redden your disrespectful ass.”

In Ari’s mind, you were always the prettiest girl in the room. But on a day like today? You were downright irresistible. And what made it even worse is that you honestly had no idea the effect you had sometimes – on him and damn near every other man who came into your presence.  

“You can’t talk like that!” You hiss, hoping that you weren’t being overheard. 

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because we’re in public, you Beast!” 

Rising to your feet, you set your drink on the table, deciding it might be better if you put some distance between you. Too bad Ari chooses to follow, walking you backwards until you feel yourself collide with the base of a nearby tree. His hands come to rest on either side of your head, effectively caging you in with his much larger frame.  

“I should’ve known what I was getting into the moment I decided to let you walk outta the house wearing that dress.” Ari rasps, trailing his nose along the delicate column of your throat. “I thought I was safe, even with that lacey little scrap of nothin’ you’ve got hidin’ underneath.” 

You barely manage to stifle a moan when your man captures your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard before releasing it with a soft pop. One of his hands leaves its purchase to settle dangerously low on your hip. 

“But I see now that’s not enough for you, is it baby?” You press your thighs together when that same hand moves once again. This time working it’s way under your skirt - his short, blunt nails dancing along your skin as his mouth hovers a mere centimeter above yours. “I’m not sure why you thought it might be a good idea to tease me like this. Not too keen on you flirting with other men.”

“I promise I wasn’t.” Your eyes flutter closed as he grinds his growing erection against the softness of your belly. “I just got excited about the car. It’s from one of my favorite Stephen King stories.” 

“Is that why I found you two holdin’ hands?” You let out a whimper when you feel the roughened pads of his fingers dig into your heated flesh, making you squirm. “Because you were excited?”

It wasn’t often that your man got riled up like this. But when he did there was almost no getting through to him until he calmed down. If you were lucky, you could typically drag him to some place quiet, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, sugar.” Leaning up, you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t like it either if I saw you holding hands with a random woman. Promise it won’t happen again.” You add, weaving your arms around his trim waist after all you receive is a grunt for your trouble. 

Although you can’t help but notice that some of the tension seems to have finally left his shoulders.

“Thank you.” 

Ari allows his forehead to rest against your own as he struggles to collect himself. Wanting more, you cup his face with your hands, bring his mouth down for a much needed kiss. His eager tongue dances with yours, demanding more of your submission as the passion builds.

You’re both breathing hard when you finally come up for air. However, you realize your man’s not done. At least not yet. 

“You’re enough to drive a man insane. You know that?” He groans in between soft, yet feral kisses. “I swear I try to be progressive – I do. I got sisters. A niece.” A sound almost like a purr rumbles in his chest as he nuzzles his nose in the crop of your neck. “But I’m also man enough to admit I’ve got a bit of a jealous streak. Never was much of a problem until I met you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You murmur at the same time as your pussy spasms, dampening your panties with your slick. 

“Good.” Ari lifts your leg, hitching it around his waist and not giving a damn about who sees. “And Bird?”

“Uh huh?” A shiver courses through you as he begins covering your exposed flesh with tiny, possessive love bites. This time you make no move to stop him. Thank goodness you’d had the foresight to pack some concealer.

“I hate to break it to you.” His mouth finds yours once more, deliberately teasing you with each sensual stroke and flick of his tongue. “But you and me, we’re not gonna make it back to Bell’s Creek tonight.”

“And w–why is that?” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as his fingers find your clit, toying with the swollen nub through the soaked fabric of your panties. 

“Because I’m having the damnedest time trying to talk myself out of fucking you hard and fast on the hood of my truck.” He responds with an unapologetic shrug. “But I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a hotel, huh?” Grinning, he increases the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the way you buck and writhe beneath his touch.

“I’ll start hunting for reservations.” You move to reach for your phone even as you feel your vision blur and your toe s curl. “But whatever you do…oh God…just please don’t stop.”’

END

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[aceyalonso]

F1 drivers if they were on the r/AITAH subreddit

drivers : oscar piastri, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, max verstappen, george russell, franco colapinto

warnings/notes : jos verstappen 🤮

a/n : i know i said i was on hiatus but c'mon this was such a fun idea

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So this might sound weird, but here goes. My girlfriend and I (both 23) love visiting new places, and she’s a big animal lover. She found this adorable cat café nearby and has been talking about going for weeks. I wasn’t as excited but figured it’d be fun to surprise her, so I booked us a spot and thought I’d try to make it extra special.

Here’s the thing: I wanted to be "that guy" who shows up with a bag of cat treats so all the cats would flock to us. It sounds ridiculous, but my goal was to make her day. When we got there, I pulled out the treats and instantly had a few cats’ attention. My girlfriend laughed, but within a few minutes, an employee came over, looking annoyed, and told me I couldn't give the cats treats from outside.

Apparently, they have specific diets or something, and I was "interfering." I apologized, put the treats away, and thought that was the end of it. But soon after, another employee came up, saying we were being "disruptive" because all the cats were lingering around us, and they even hinted we might need to leave if it didn’t stop. I hadn’t meant to cause a scene and told them it wasn’t a big deal—we’d stop and just hang out like everyone else. But by this point, my girlfriend was pretty embarrassed, and it killed the vibe of our day.

We left a bit earlier than planned, and now my girlfriend thinks it was a bit of a jerk move, even though she appreciated the effort. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or break the rules, just thought it’d be fun to make the cats a bit more social. But now I’m wondering if I messed up by not sticking to the café’s way of doing things.

So, AITAH?

Edit: I’ve learned my lesson. I will never underestimate the dietary regulations of a cat café ever again.

So, I (24M) have this bad habit of forgetting what’s in my fridge. A while ago, I bought some chicken, but I totally forgot about it, and it just sat there for months. I was cleaning out my fridge the other day and found the chicken at the back, and it still looked fine to me—didn’t smell bad, didn’t look weird—so I thought, "Why not? It’s still good."

I cooked it up, had a nice meal, and didn’t think much of it. But then, later that night, I told my mom about it (thinking she'd just laugh), and she completely freaked out. She went on this whole rant about food safety, salmonella, and how I could’ve poisoned myself. I was just like, "It tasted fine, mom, calm down."

She kept texting me all night asking if I felt okay, if I was getting any stomach pains, and even called a few of my friends to check in on me. Honestly, I’m fine—nothing happened, and I feel perfectly normal.

But now she’s upset with me, saying I’m being careless and that I should never eat food that old, even if it seems fine. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, people eat leftovers all the time, right? It wasn’t even that old.

So, AITAH for eating chicken that’s been in my fridge for 9 months and making my mom worry unnecessarily?

Edit: Just to clarify, I didn’t intentionally keep it for 9 months. I honestly just forgot about it in the back of the fridge. And no, I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I promise I won’t be eating anything old again anytime soon!

I (27M) have a dog, Leo, who’s basically my best friend. He’s super friendly and well-behaved, and honestly, I just feel better when he’s around. I bring him everywhere I go – to cafes, parks, and friend gatherings. You name it, Leo’s there. Most people are fine with it because he’s adorable and loves everyone.

Recently, though, my friends have started making comments about it. Last weekend, we met up at this small, cozy café for brunch, and I brought Leo along. He just curled up next to my chair and didn’t bother anyone. But my friend Paul pulled me aside afterward and said it was kind of annoying that I kept bringing Leo without asking. He said not everyone wants a dog around all the time, and it’s “getting old.”

I don’t understand where this is coming from, especially since Leo’s never caused any problems. I figured since no one had said anything before, they were fine with it. Plus, I’m always careful to keep him out of people’s way, and he’s honestly better behaved than most dogs I know. I feel like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should have checked with everyone first.

So, AITAH for always bringing my dog? Should I have asked before assuming everyone was okay with it?

Edit: Just for context, Leo’s a small dog – not the type to jump on people or bark a lot. He just sits quietly and naps most of the time. Also, I’ve always cleaned up after him when necessary, so he hasn’t left any “souvenirs” for anyone to deal with.

So, I (39M) have this friend, Nico (also 39M), and we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re both super competitive by nature, and we tend to push each other a lot. Whether it’s video games, sports, or even something like mini-golf, everything somehow turns into a competition between us. It’s mostly just for fun… until recently.

A few weeks ago, we were at a friend’s birthday party, and they had one of those racing setups in the living room. Of course, Nico and I immediately challenged each other, and we both got really into it. I mean, I might’ve been trash-talking a bit (okay, maybe a lot), but we were both laughing, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Well, I ended up beating him by a fraction of a second, and I might’ve celebrated a bit too enthusiastically—think victory lap around the living room, calling him out in front of everyone, the whole deal. After that, Nico got pretty quiet and didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the night. Later, a mutual friend told me that Nico felt like I was “rubbing it in,” and it embarrassed him.

Now I feel bad. I honestly thought we were just having fun and didn’t realize he’d take it so personally. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed it off and hasn’t really been himself around me since.

So… AITAH for taking things a bit too far with my friend, or was it all just part of the usual friendly rivalry?

Edit: We’ve always had this kind of back-and-forth, so I’m not sure why this time it got to him. Just thought I’d get some outside perspective before I bring it up with him again.

Okay, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out. I (30M) love making pancakes, and I’m pretty proud of my recipe. It’s become sort of a tradition to make them for my family when I visit my parents. They’re always really nice about it and say they love them, but... I’m starting to think they’ve just been too polite.

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house and decided to whip up a big batch of pancakes for breakfast. My mom and dad both had seconds, and I thought it was a win. But later that night, my mom started having really bad stomach pains. We took her to the hospital, and she ended up needing surgery for appendicitis. It was a scary experience, but thankfully, she’s okay now.

Here’s where it gets weirder. Just a few days after my mom came home from the hospital, my dad started having the same symptoms. At first, we joked that it was sympathy pains, but he ended up in the ER too, with the exact same issue—appendicitis.

Now my whole family is convinced it was my pancakes. I know logically that my cooking can’t cause appendicitis, but I can’t help but feel responsible because they both got sick right after eating my breakfast. My parents keep joking that they’re never eating my pancakes again, and my siblings have been giving me a hard time about it, saying I’m banned from the kitchen.

So, AITAH for giving both my parents appendicitis with my cooking, or am I just an unlucky chef?

Edit: Just to clarify, I don’t actually think I gave them appendicitis, but the timing is very suspicious, and now my parents are scared of my pancakes. I might need a new family recipe...

So, I (27M) have two cats (Jimmy & Sassy), and they’re pretty much my babies. They’re super affectionate with me but can be a bit picky about who they like. My dad (52M), on the other hand, isn’t exactly a "cat person." He’s more of the “why do you have pets that don’t do anything useful?” type, but he still visits often and tolerates them because he knows they’re important to me.

The other day, my dad came over, and as usual, my cats were lounging on the couch. He decided to sit down and give them a little nudge to move over, but instead of just shuffling away, one of my cats (Jimmy) swiped at his face. It wasn’t a deep scratch, but it was enough to leave a red mark and get my dad pretty annoyed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because he was acting all grumpy about it, muttering something about "those spoiled cats."

He got even more annoyed when he saw me laughing and said I should discipline my cats better and not let them scratch people. I tried explaining that cats are territorial and react like that when they’re suddenly pushed, especially by someone they’re not used to. I offered him a band-aid, but he refused and ended up leaving earlier than planned.

Now my mom is telling me I should’ve been more sympathetic and that I should’ve scolded my cat instead of laughing. But honestly, I feel like it was just a normal cat reaction, and my dad knows how they can be. So now I’m wondering, AITAH for laughing when my cat scratched my dad’s face instead of taking it more seriously?

Edit: Just to clarify, my cats don’t usually attack people. They’re very cuddly with me and my friends, but my dad’s not around them enough for them to be comfortable. I’ll definitely make sure he approaches them differently next time... if he ever wants to come back!

So, this might sound a bit weird, but hear me out. I (26M) work at this company, and my boss, "Toto" (52M), and I have a really good relationship. We get along great, share a lot of common interests, and he’s been a bit of a mentor to me. We hang out outside of work sometimes, and every now and then, I’ll stay over at his place after we have dinner or watch a game, just because it’s more convenient.

Recently, my friends found out about this and started making fun of me, calling it “sleepovers” with my boss. I laughed it off at first, but they’ve started saying it’s kind of weird and unprofessional to be that close with your boss. They’re acting like I’m trying to suck up or get some kind of special treatment, but that’s honestly not the case. I just enjoy his company, and we have a good time hanging out.

The thing is, I never really mentioned it to my friends before because it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I figured if I told them, they’d blow it out of proportion (which is exactly what’s happening now). But now they’re saying it’s odd that I didn’t bring it up sooner and that it’s kind of strange to be having “sleepovers” with someone who’s technically in charge of me at work.

So, AITAH for not telling my friends that I sometimes crash at my boss’s place, or are they just overreacting?

Edit: For context, it’s not like I’m staying there every weekend or anything. It’s maybe once a month if we’re having a late night and it’s easier than going all the way back to my place. Plus, he’s got a massive guest room, so it’s not like I’m sleeping on the couch or something. It’s just a practical arrangement

Okay, so I (21M) have a bit of a problem, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even a problem or just something I can’t control. I’ve noticed lately that whenever I’m doing interviews or talking to reporters, I end up coming off as flirting with them, even though I’m not trying to at all.

I’m naturally a friendly person, and I like to joke around and be engaging. But I’ve had a few reporters (and even some photographers) tell me after interviews that I’ve been “charming” or “too smooth” with them. Some of them even hinted that I was “leading them on.” The thing is, I don’t even notice it happening. I just talk to them like I would anyone else, but apparently, I’m making it seem like I’m flirting—without even trying!

One reporter even gave me her number after an interview, and when I asked if she was just being friendly, she said, “You were a little more than friendly.” I was totally confused because I thought we were just having a good conversation about racing. Now I’m worried that I’m giving the wrong impression to people without meaning to, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make things uncomfortable.

So, AITAH for accidentally flirting with reporters and leading them on when I really don’t mean to? Should I tone down my "natural charm"?

Edit: Just to clarify, I’m not trying to flirt with anyone, reporter or not. I’m just being myself, but it seems like it’s coming off differently than I intended. It’s a bit awkward now, and I’m wondering if I should change how I interact in interviews.

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[yncoreee]

CUTIE CUTIE. Eunchae x reader

Synopsis— your girlfriend got carried away babying you, she didn’t notice the door swinging open

Warnings .ᐟ requested, kissing, lil bit rushed (so sorry), they get caught, secret relationship au, idol x idol!reader, 06’ liner reader,happy eunchae day! Will try to post some of my many planned fics today but no promises, female reader, FLUFF

꩜ — ⵌWord count 886

The dorm was filled with nothing but the comforting silence. The other members were out doing one thing or the other for their leisure time. But you and eunchae decided it was best to stay alone at the dorm as the busy schedule through out the whole week had affected the rate at which you spent Time with each other (off cameras)

You laid comfortably on her laps humming in satisfaction as you scrolled through your phone. While her hands tangled in between the strands of your hair.

Being in a secret relationship especially of the same group had it’s peeks. The both of you hardly having any time for each other except when at the dorms. And always trying to act romantic in a platonic way in front of the members so as not to seem suspicious.

There we’re limits you and eunchae reached once you saw one of the older members giving you a raised eyebrow.

Today was one of the free lucky days the both of you had some time alone together. It usually got interrupted by one member or the other following the sequence oldest -> youngest.

The most recent person was kazuha so eunchae was guessing maybe it was sakura next.

“Do you think it’s kkura-Unnie that’s going to interrupt us this time?” Eunchae asked her hands beneath her chin.

You let out a chuckle at her prediction. “Mmm maybe, who knows. Maybe it will actually be all the members” you sighed, your cheeks slightly puffed with air.

“Awww you’re so cute, cutie cutie” eunchae cooed, her hands finding it’s way to reach your cheeks, lightly squishing it.

“Hey?!” You yelled pouting, immediately taking your head off her laps. You glared at her while your arms were folded across your chest, a light pout forming on your lips.

“Rahhh!!! Cuteness overload” eunchae squealed dramatically clutching onto her chest, her hands coming up to tickle your sides.

You let out small giggles, tears forming in your eyes from the non stop laughter. “Chae stop!” You said in between laughs.

“No way!”

Eunchae took a brief moment to admire your cuteness. She watched as a big smile was apparent on your mouth, your eyes forming into a crescent shaped to show how genuine the laughter was.

Slowly she unconsciously leaned in closer, her face was so close you could practically feel her breath tickling against yours. The more she leaned the closer your lips got.

It was about to meet finally until—

“WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?!!” Chaewon yelled causing eunchae to immediately back off. The both of you turning to face the other members with widened eyes. Their expressions mirroring yours.

“Unnies….? Since when have you been standing there?” Eunchae nervously chuckled, scratching the back of her neck.

“Long enough to see you almost kissing y/n” sakura responded, looking at eunchae with unreadable expressions.

“Since when has this been going on?” Chaewon asked sternly, only raising one eyebrow.

“Ummm for about six months” you gulped, swallowing a huge lump down your throat. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look Any of them in the eye.

Your hands fumbled it way into interlocking with eunchae’s. She took your hand in hers looking over at you with a smile that said. “We got this”.

“OMG THEY LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER!!!” Yunjin squealed taking note of the hand holding.

“Yunjin shut up.” Chaewon face palmed pulling yunjin back. “I’m honestly still speechless. But I want to hear the rest opinions on this. I personally don’t know if it’ll be better if you guys broke up” chaewon shrugged, eunchae looking at her with scared and sad faces.

“No no Unnie please….anything but that” you pleaded tears almost forming in your eyes.

“But—“

“They’re right chae, them breaking up won’t be the best idea. You know y/n and eunchae share a really close bond and that might affect their interactions in the group if they break up. I don’t think it’s much of a big deal and actually support them, as long as they’re both happy and they keep the relationship a secret” sakura stated, her wise words sinking into Chaewon’s head.

“You got a point there Unnie, what about you yunjin?” Chaewon asked turning to yunjin.

“Me? I honestly think they’re so so so cute together, like come on two babies in a relationship??? Rahhhh they’re even holding hands!” Yunjin burst into excitement, dramatically plopping herself right on the chair.

“Zuha?”

“Huh? I don’t know. I don’t have a problem with it. Plus Yunjin Unnie is right, they look so cute together” kazuha sighed dreamily.

“Mmm. Since most of you all—“

“Except you”

Chaewon glared at eunchae. “Yes except me, are fine by it. Then it’s final the couple stays”

Eunchae looked up at chaewon with sparkles in her eyes. “Omg thank you so much Unnies!!!” She jumped up and down excitedly. “So can I kiss y/n now?”

“NO!”

“Get a room”

“DEFINITELY!!!!!”

“I don’t know, I’m going to my room”

Eunchae didn’t mind the others comment and instead leaned closer to capture your lips.

Chaewon yelling in the background, sakura unbothered by it, yunjin squealing like a tire wheel, kazuha already off to bed.

“You’re the greatest thing that can happen to me” eunchae said, cupping your cheeks.

“HONG EUNCHAE I SAID NO!!”

[ckret2]

If the Time Baby exists in the far way future of the Gravity Falls Main Timeline, why was he so concerned about Bill being free from the Nightmare Realm? The fact that he exists in the far future proves that Bill was defeated in the past to begin with.

Here's what we know about time & Weirdmageddon:

When it begins, one of the first things Bill says is "TIME IS DEAD and meaning has no meaning!"

Something like a week of time passes inside of Weirdmageddon, but when it's over, it's like no time has passed in the real world

Bill murders Time Baby and then declares he can control time.

Something temporally fucky is going on inside Weirdmageddon.

So here's my theory:

In the normal timeline where chronological cause and effect matter, Time Baby can rest assured that events proceed such that he will safely rule the future. But Bill "WHY MUST CAUSE PRECEDE EFFECT" Cipher's party isn't part of the normal timeline. It's capable of retroactively breaking the universe in the 21st century and erasing the future where Time Baby rules—along with every other future.

Time Baby's future isn't proof that Bill's defeated. It's an example of a timeline in which Weirdmageddon NEVER HAPPENED—and Bill's about to change that. There's a possibility Bill COULD win.

Bonus headcanon:

The fact that Weirdmageddon's outside the normal timeline is also why I headcanon Time Baby only got involved THEN—and didn't, say, appear over Gravity Falls in 1980 to say "HEAR THIS, STANFORD PINES! BILL'S A CREEP. DON'T BUILD HIS PORTAL" or whatever.

My headcanon is that any given Time Giant can only exist in ONE place at any point on their own timeline. So like, if a Time Giant does the laundry on Wednesday, and then on Thursday finds out that there was a cool concert yesterday, they can time travel back to Wednesday to catch the concert, but now the past has been changed so that they didn't do the laundry because they were at the concert instead. They can't loop back and cause two versions of themselves to exist at once; the act of looping back erases the original version of themself.

The same way the time tape works: when Dipper & Mabel rewind the day of the carnival, Dipper doesn't run into his past self attempting the ball toss and Mabel doesn't run into her past self winning Waddles; they replace their past selves so only one version of them exists.

Something about the fact that Time Baby has been comatose and in ice in Antarctica for the past 66 million years or whatever somehow interferes with his time powers to prevent him from time traveling back to (and replacing) himself during a moment he's frozen. A time giant can loop back to a moment they're doing the laundry, but apparently not to a moment they're comatose. That means that entire era of Earth's history, from the moment he's knocked out to the moment he wakes up, is guaranteed Time Baby-free, because he can't visit ANY of it...

... except for the one moment OUTSIDE of time... Weirdmageddon. Which is why Time Baby could ONLY make a move to try to stop Bill right then, even though he surely knew Bill's been working on breaking into earth for millions of years.

This is why he also has to send human agents with time tapes to do his bidding during that era: he can't do it himself.

AND it's why I headcanon it takes 1000 years for his molecules to reconstitute after Bill zaps him. Because two Time Babies can't exist at the same moment in history, and because Present Time Baby can't replace his past self while his past self is in a coma, he just has to wait in a state of non-existence until Past Time Baby thaws, wakes up, and pops off to some other point in the timeline... and at last, Present Time Baby has a free spot in the timeline where he isn't being nullified by his own past self and can reconstitute.

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 11

Just two more chapters to go. The tension is ramping up and you're gonna want to hold on to your seats. This is the penultimate chapter before everything is revealed. And hooboy is it going to be great fun.

In this we find out who the cleaner was and he gives Eddie the final clue he needs to stop his troubles once and for all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

~

Eddie enjoyed watching the cleaning crew. They were like bees in a hive, not bumping up against each other or trying to do the same tasks. Cleaning up after some days was hell, like Tuesdays and Saturdays and he always made sure to pay extra on those days.

That said, he really didn’t know any of them. The only familiar faces were the foremen. Eddie has asked the head forman about it once and was told that cleaning Hellfire was such a cushy job that he rotated teams so that everyone got a chance at it.

So imagine his surprise when one of the cleaners stopped Steve on his way out of the dressing room for a short chat.

It looked a little heated, if Eddie was being honest and was about to step in when Steve broke away from the conversation and drifted his direction.

Eddie cocked his head toward the cleaner. “Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine,” Steve said with a shrug. “I didn’t realize he had fallen on such hard times. Apparently his mom broke her hip and hasn’t been able to work for the last year.”

“That’s rough,” Eddie said, and waved his arm for Steve to go first. “I don’t know how much the cleaners make, but maybe if he puts in an application we can find him something to do here. Hell, he could work in the kitchen if Monty liked him well enough.”

His chef was a thin, wiry looking fellow, but he knew how to make the best club food anyone had ever tasted. He was also particular about who worked with him. But Monty could always use an extra hand or two and it would never hurt to try.

“I’ll let him know the next time I see him,” Steve said with a fond smile. “He’s also got a little brother in college, maybe have him apply too. Couldn’t hurt. What’s the least that’s going to happen, you say no? They won’t be any worse off for applying.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. He didn’t think that he would hire either of them if he was honest, but like Steve said, they wouldn’t be worse off for it. “So how was Creepy McCreepy?”

Steve bumped Eddie with his hip. “Henry Creel was fine. He’s just passing through, by the way, Mr. Worry Wort. I think he has bigger fish to fry then some high end exotic dancing club. Not that this place isn’t worth scalping, but I think he’s aiming for higher?”

“World domination?” Eddie teased, leaning into Steve space.

He laughed and nudged him away with his elbow. “Yeah, probably.”

~

Eddie ended up meeting with Steve’s friend because the guy needed consistent money coming in and while cleaning job paid okay, it really didn’t have many regular clients other than the club. Mostly they cleaned up after major sporting events, political conventions, stuff like that. And with their boss Murray always rotating the crew who cleaned the club, some weeks were good, others not so much.

Eddie had to admit that guy cleaned up really good. With his hair out of his face and wearing nice clothes, he wasn’t bad to look at.

“Jonathan Byers?” he said, rising to greet him from a table he had sectioned off for the interview.

“Yeah,” he said, shaking Eddie’s hand. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

Eddie smiled. “No problem. I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie pulled out three pages and spread them out in front of Jonathan. “There are three positions open right now, let’s see if you fit any one of them.”

He pointed to the first one. “This is for the busser position. Basically you go around after people have left to take away plates and glasses as well as pick up any tips. You’ll get a small portion of the tips but mostly it’s a flat rate of $15 an hour.”

Jonathan nodded.

“This one is for a cook’s assistant,” Eddie said tapping on the second one. “Often called a prep chef in bigger kitchens. Basically you’ll prepare everything for the chef and put it in the fridge for him to grab as he goes. You’ll get here at 4pm and leave at 8pm when the club opens. Pay is $22 an hour because it’s only four hours a day.”

Again Jonathan nodded. “That makes sense.”

“And finally the waiter position,” Eddie said. “This one in the highest paid, but also the most demanding. You’ll only have two days off a week and you’ll work from 8pm-2am. Base pay is $15 an hour, but you get a set amount of tips every night. Usually it’s percentage, but if it’s a rough night, you’ll see a base pay of $200 in tips for the night. You aren’t expected to pimp for tips as it were, as you aren’t the main attraction. You’ll be invisible for most of the time and some will even get mad at you for blocking their view of the show.”

“Wow,” Jonathan said. “That’s really fucking generous.”

“I try to be,” Eddie said cocking his head to side, “because living in this hellscape we call American Capitalism is hard enough without having to worry about not having enough money for shit.”

“Can I take these with me and then send over my resume for the position I’m most interested in applying for?” Jonathan asked, placing his hand over the a couple of the pages.

“Sure thing,” Eddie said. “I have copies on my computer. I’ll give you to the end of the week, otherwise I’m going to have to start looking elsewhere.” He stood up and Jonathan did the same.

“That’s fair,” Jonathan said, holding up the pages. “Thanks for this. Because you gave me a chance, even if I don’t end up working here.”

They shook hands.

“Let me walk you to your car,” Eddie said, waving his arm for Jonathan to go first.

He huffed out a laugh. “I don’t have a car right now, my girlfriend is coming to pick me.”

“Then I’ll wait with you,” Eddie offered.

Jonathan considered it a moment and then shrugged. “Sure, man. Whatever.”

They walked out to the curb and chatted about Jonathan’s family and how his mom was doing. “My brother is going to be famous one day,” Jonathan said with pride. “He is such an amazing painter, his work should be hung galleries.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said with a smile. He knew that tone of voice. It was the same tone Wayne got when he talked about him. “So what did baby Jonathan Byers want to be when he grew up?”

“This is going to sound so weird,” Jonathan said with a smirk, “but a bug photographer. Not wild life in general. Bugs. Creepy crawlies. Insects and spiders. I loved that shit as a kid. I don’t know how many times I freaked out my mom by bringing in a new bug to take pictures of and then release back into the wild.”

“Young Eddie would have loved you,” he said softly. “I liked bugs and critters you aren’t supposed to go anywhere near. Raccoons, possums, squirrels. Baby Eddie loved them all. My mom,” he wagged his hand back and forth, “not so much.”

“There she is now,” Jonathan said jutting his chin at the red hatchback pulling into the parking lot.

Eddie pursed his lips and resolved not to say a damn word until she did.

And oh boy did she ever. She got out of the car and immediately started yelling at Jonathan.

“What on earth are you doing here?” she cried. “I thought you had an interview.”

Eddie tilted his head to side. “Not an interview yet, more like a fact finding mission. But I like him.” He grinned at her.

“I forbid you from working here!” she shrieked. “This is a den of sin! I have vowed to take it down.”

“Nancy,” Jonathan said warningly. “We’ve had this discussion. If I didn’t work at every place you found morally objectionable, I wouldn’t be able to work at all. I just need something stable until Will graduates and Mom can move around on her own again.”

“When you told me that Steve was working in this hive of iniquity ,” Nancy growled, “I made it my responsibility to shut it down once and for all. To save Steve, to save you from having to sweep the vile filth from its floors.”

“What?!” Jonathan cried. “I didn’t tell you Steve was working here to have you go on one of your crusades. I told you because Steve was a good friend when both of you were dancing ballet together.”

“It’s a sin!” she cried one more time.

“So is fornication,” Jonathan huffed. “And breaking and entering and a shit ton of other things you do that are supposedly okay as long as you do them.”

Nancy folded her arms and stomped her foot. “That’s not the same and you know it. They have actual fucking nights dedicated to a specific deadly sin. I may have broken a few laws in my time, but I would never stoop the depths of depravity that his club sinks to!”

“You continue with this vendetta,” Jonathan warned, “and I swear to God, we’re through. There is nothing wrong with what they do. So what if people see them naked. Don’t go see it. Your rights stop at their personhood. You can only dictate what you do and not anyone else.”

He turned to Eddie. “Can you take me home? I don’t think I want to be in the same car as her.”

“Sure thing, man,” he replied, thumbing behind him. “Just let me lock up and I’ll be right out.”

When he came back Nancy had gone and Jonathan looked like a kicked puppy.

“You ready to go?”

Jonathan nodded and without a word followed him to his car. After get the address and putting it into the GPS, Eddie said, “I’m sorry about how she acted. Has she done this sort of thing before?”

“When I first graduated high school I got a job at a photography studio,” he muttered. “I took pictures of babies and toddlers. I had this cute little pink rabbit that never failed to get a smile.” He cleared his throat. “She found out that in addition to family portraits, bridal and wedding photos, they also did boudoir photo shoots.”

“Oh no,” Eddie moaned, completely seeing where this was going.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said with a sniffle. “She got the place shut down when she found out that some official’s daughter got them for the guy she was sleeping with, who was not her fiancé.”

Eddie frowned. That sounded too familiar.

“Anyway,” Jonathan continued, “this bitch got the whole place shut down and suddenly I was without a job. If I ever find her, I think I’d like to strangle her with my bare hands.”

“Her named wouldn’t be Heather Holloway, would it? Mayor Kirk Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie asked running his tongue over his upper lip slowly.

Jonathan snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the snake in the grass.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road and closed his eyes. “It’s a fucking scam. Holy shit! It’s a fucking scam.”

“What is?” Jonathan asked.

Eddie turned around. “I just figured the whole thing out. All of it. The attacks against Steve, Billy getting caught with his hands up the wrong skirt, Jason fucking Carver. I’ve got to give it to your girl, she is one smart manipulative bitch. But I’m smarter.”

~

Tag List:

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2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975 @garden-of-gay

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ☕ Coffee Shop Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

☕ I’d Still Dance With You by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo {M, 57k}

“Liam, if you met someone that you really liked, would age matter?” Louis asked. “I suppose so; to a point, anyway.” “Like, how young would you go?” Liam thought it over. “Uh… I don’t know. Like, 24?” Louis groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “Why? How old is this guy you like?” “Twenty-one,” Louis muttered. “Hang on. He’s 21, and you’re… what? Twenty-eight?” “Yeah.” “Wow. Um… well, OK. That’s a, uh, that’s a gap.”

Or, the 21/28 age difference fic where Harry is younger than Louis thought he was, and even though Louis’ head is telling him not to pursue anything, his heart doesn’t seem to agree.

☕ I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours {T, 34k}

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

☕ love drunk, waiting on a miracle by @hellolovers13 {E, 30k}

Christmas inspired Coffeshop AU

Harry has a bit of a crush on a customer. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual.

These are their first 24 days together.

☕ And That’s The Tea by @2tiedships2​ {M, 27k}

I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.

☕ Friday I'm in Love by @perfectdagger {M, 25k}

It has a pattern, Harry has noticed.It’s not that he has been observing the guy who regularly comes to the coffee shop for the past few weeks; but he totally has.It’s also not Harry’s fault that he’s infatuated with the guy who apparently follows a very repetitive schedule.

Or the one where Harry works at the coffee shop and Louis goes there almost every day and Harry is head over heels for him, making his love life look like a The Cure song.

Inspired by Friday I’m in Love by The Cure (obviously).

☕ From The Heart (series) by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 24k}

Every Tuesday, Louis spends his day off holed up in his favorite coffee-come-bookshop, writing his little stories as part of the WordPlay challenge while daydreaming about the resident barista, Harry. Each week a new word prompt is revealed and Louis adds to his series of short stories about Henry, the owner of a B&B in the Cotswolds who has curly hair and dimples, Lewis, his long term guest who just happens to be a writer, and Tigger, Henry’s cat.

As Louis and Harry’s friendship develops, could his fantasy world spill out into real life? And how does that reader who leaves the lovely comments with the teacup emoji seem to be able to read Louis’ mind?

☕ ever since new york by @sunflower-live​ / sunflower_live {NR, 22k}

Louis works at a coffee shop in NYC and he pines endlessly after the boy who lives above it.

☕ blend into my favourite colour by rainbowninja167 / @rainbowtitania {T, 19k}

Harry often wonders if they’ll ever meet in real life. And if Harry will recognize Tommo the instant they see each other, like somehow their souls will just know. Or maybe Harry’s soul is shouting “Louis!” too loudly for any other signals to go through.

Harry is a barista with a secret Werewolf High fan blog, a desperate crush on a customer named Louis, and a best friend on Tumblr who always makes him laugh. Louis can't figure out why the barista at his favorite coffee shop keeps creepily staring at him, and to make matters worse, he may be slightly in love with a friend he met online.

A love square involving two boys, one TV fandom, and one food fight.

☕ The Importance of being Earnest by @louloubabys1992​ / louloubaby92 {NR, 16k}

Harry cannot help but pay extra attention to Louis' order, even if it is just a warm cup of tea with a dash of milk and no sugar. He also makes sure that the Danish Louis asks for is warm and fresh from the oven and not the one in the display, even if it means delaying Louis a bit when he fetches said Danish from the kitchen. It's all worth it when Louis smiles his crinkly smile at him before he rushes off to work.

Man, he's hot, he cannot help but think.

Or Harry is a barista who's been harboring a crush on Louis for months. Little does he know that Louis actually likes him back.

☕ Before We Ever Wrote a Song by @casuallyhl​ {E, 13k}

Harry just can't be around Louis when he's flirting outrageously with Chad Michael Murray. So what if he's the star of one of the country's most popular shows? Harry's seen an episode or two and it's not that great. Sure, the drama is exciting and all the actors are attractive and it’s shot in his hometown, but still. Not that great. Certainly not great enough for Louis to fall over himself every time Chad enters the coffee shop.

Harry doesn’t want to watch the over-the-top spectacle, which is why he usually retreats.

And besides, it hurts to see the boy he’s in love with flirting with someone else.

Or, Harry and Louis work in a coffeehouse on a film studios lot, and Harry wishes Louis would pay half as much attention to him as he does the famous actors.

☕ A Love Stronger Than Espresso by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix {G, 12k}

Louis is entirely dependent on caramel mocha in the mornings, but soon he finds that there's one thing at the coffee shop he needs more than coffee - a cute barista named Harry.

aka: The one where Harry is a cute barista guy and Louis plays hard to get by using a different name to order coffee each day

☕ John Doe by FitzAndLarry {G, 12k}

John Doe I don't even know you, but I know fo' sho' That you are beautiful, so baby let me know Your name Damn what's his name?

xxx

There's a boy taking the stand at the open mic night where Harry works as a barista, and he's going to find out the boy's name if it's the last thing he does.

An ode to Never Shout Never, and a story about finding a new home.

☕ Coming Home Through the Dark to You by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {G, 6k}

Harry Styles works at the Fox in the Snow, the most hipster coffee joint around. He's got too many roommates and a best friend he met his first day of university who he might very well be head-over-heels for.

☕ ‘Sup by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics​ {G, 6k}

Gemma really wants her little brother to sign up for a dating app and get back in the game after a messy divorce. Harry thinks he’s way too old to swipe. They compromise to devastatingly embarrassing results.

Meanwhile, all Louis wants is to finish the play he’s been commissioned to write, but one of the regulars at his local coffee shop keeps distracting him.

ft. older larry, pushy gemma, harry being a disaster gay and silver fox louis.

☕ Time Of The Season by alienharry {NR, 6k}

When writer's block stands in the way of Harry completing his second novel, he turns to the sweet-smelling omega behind the counter of his new favorite coffee shop for inspiration.

☕ I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis {NR, 5k}

Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

☕ That's Not My Name by @lululawrence {NR, 3k}

He froze for a second, because he hadn’t expected to be hit with such an intense gaze. Green eyes beneath a beanie and loads of curly hair made Louis miss a beat before coming back to himself.

“Uh, hi. Sorry. Can I take your order?”

The boy (man?) gave a shy smile and said, “Just a caramel macchiato, please. Grande.” Louis nodded as he scribbled onto the cup and punched it into the register.

As the boy held his phone to the machine to pay, Louis asked, “Name please?”

“Oh, uh, Marcus.”

Louis scribbled Marcus on the cup and handed it off, but not before giving the boy a smile and nodding over to where he’d be able to pick up his drink. Louis watched him a bit longer than he probably should have, then forced himself to move on.

Or the one where the cute boy coming into the coffee shop gives Louis a different name every time...for over a month.

☕ A Cuppa Courage by @juliusschmidt {G, 3k}

Liam kicks Harry's shin, picking up another cup to fill. “He seems like he’d be a good catch, if you liked guys, I mean.”

I do like guys, Harry does not say, even though he’d like to shout it at the top of his lungs. I DO LIKE GUYS.

[a fluffy lil' fall coffee shop coming out au.]

☕ cursing the cosmos by 5sexualhomos / @hogwartzlou {NR, 3k}

In a world where people have timers counting down to when they meet their soulmate, finding love is easy. Harry meets Louis in a coffee shop one day. They slowly fall in love, the only thing holding them back is that they aren't soulmates.

☕ baby baby, you're a caramel macchiato by @missandrogyny {T, 3k}

So, yeah, Harry doesn't think it's that far of a stretch to call himself a good barista. There are some particularly bad ones, and some particularly good ones, and, with his work ethic, his skill, and his charm, he'd probably be lumped in with the latter group.

☕  tell me what you need by @disgruntledkittenface​ {G, 2k}

“And a fresh cherry?” he asks, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. He waits as Louis stares him down, his brow furrowing.“No? What the fuck,” Louis rasps, looking bewildered.

coffeeshop AU based on this iconic prompt:

harry: can i please get a semi-iced half caramel half vanilla decaf latte with no foam using fresh almond milk with a small swirl of whipped cream covered in a pinch of cinnamon and a fresh cherry? louis: ...no? what the fuck

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch9 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

❥ Word Count: ~7K

❥ Warnings: non-con, handjobs (btwn stsg), deepthroating (btwn stsg), strap-ons/pegging (w/ gojo), gojo being the submissive brat boy we all know he is.

❥ Summary: Double the trouble, or double the fun? Difficult to say when you're unfortunately roped into the affairs of two powerful shamans who can't leave each other alone, either.

Stepping into these pampering sessions after another monotonous day has come to be one of your few reprieves in a situation like this. Geto finds any and all ways to try to sway you to his direction, so he dials everything up to 100 during these sessions. This time he’s hired some of his devotees who runs a spa nearby to treat you to some facials, full body shaves or scrubs, or massages. He’s happy and content to be on the sidelines just observing you. It might be over the top, but that’’s something he has in common with Gojo: he’ll do everything and anything to get you to favor him.

And for Geto, it doesn’t stop here.

While the nail techs from the spa work on your manicure—they’re in the middle of buffing your nails after removing your cuticles—you glance up as Geto approaches you. You’re relaxing on a lounge chair, adorned in a fancier silk robe Geto bought you a couple of weeks ago. It’s a deep burgundy with gold lining on the rims of your sleeves. Geto tells you when he gives it to you that you look something more akin to royalty in it. It’s an appropriate compliment to him, all things considered. But you don’t feel like royalty. Not even a tiny, little bit.

“Enjoying yourself?” Geto asks as he brushes his fingers across your forehead with a little smile on his lips. You shut your eyes again, taking a deep breath. It’s a nice break from everything, yes. You know it’s because he’s trying to get something from you. Whatever it is, you don’t really care about at the moment. Now two more nail techs are working on scraping off the callouses off of your feet.

You nod, adjusting yourself a bit in your spot. “Mm-mhm. Thank you, Suguru.”

His smile brightens his entire face. Something you have to admit, you have never seen before. Lately it’s like he’s been carrying some heavy burden on his shoulders that you haven’t pieced together yourself. Satoru’s visits have become next to none lately, and you know it’s because of whatever obligations he has outside of this. Geto has expected it, the longer absences, and that’s precisely why you’re here. At least at the beginning, now it seems like you have taken on a larger role than both of them initially anticipated.

But maybe Gojo’s absence is affecting him more than he lets on. But on the bright side, he hasn’t been initiating anything intimate between you both. He seems more concerned in making sure you really are comfortable here.

“Of course, my love. Anything for you.”

You bite back a knowing sigh. You know the game by now. He does something over the top like this and it means he wants something more from you. You don’t know what that is just yet, but you don’t have to worry or speculate about something you already know is going to happen. You just let yourself enjoy the moment.

“Relax your hands,” one of the nail techs instructs while patting the hand she’s working on. You try. You can’t really relax in his presence but you sure damn try.

Geto pulls up a chair and settles down next to you. He rests his chin in his hand, smiling at you. You try not to pay attention, focusing on the way the nail techs are so gentle and slow with their treatments. The heels of your feet are probably already much smoother than they were previously—the exercise routines Geto’s forced you on has worn you out in more ways than one and has done a number on your skin health—and you can’t remember the last time you actually took care of your body like this. Not beyond the basic stuff.

Being someone’s pretty pet often left you no time for such things; apparently, you have a more important matter which is making sure your captor is thoroughly satisfied with you.

The pampering does feel so short-lived. After they’re done, your finger and toe nails are painted a nice matte black color, the gel shining brightly every time it reflected some light. They take the time to comb and snip off the breakage from your hair and provide all kinds of intensive hair care treatments, and you have never felt better (you know, all things considered). You wonder why Geto keeps going above and beyond like this. It’s like you said before, it can’t mean anything good for you at all.

After your evening pampering session, Geto escorts you back to the bedroom. He watches as you settle onto the bed, fingers running through your smooth hair after the keratin treatment the spa techs provided for you. Your hair feels great. So bouncy. So shiny. So soft. You’re practically beaming while swinging your legs against the bed and your entire expression brightens. It’s probably the first time in a long time you felt something other than utter dread and boredom.

Suddenly, his voice breaks your silent rejoicing.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispers, lowering his head.

You freeze. Suddenly all of that little sliver of joy evaporates into thin air as you glance up at Geto, timid. Frightened. As if this can’t get any worse for you?!

“I… what?” You blink. He’s admitted to you before that he’s gotten some kind of affection for you, yes, but… in love with you? That sounds downright wacky considering his whole spiel.

“I meant to tell you sooner,” he goes on as he moves to disrobe. “But I figure there’s never going to be a good time. I’m in love with you. You’ve…made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time. I know you probably still aren’t happy here, and I can’t expect that you ever would be. That’s fine with me. You know what your job is here.”

“You want a functional family for the twins,” you tell him, looking away as he settles in bed next to you, his weight dipping the mattress.

He rests his hand on your shoulder, dragging out a sigh.

“Your cooperation is enough,” he insists, kissing your temple. You’re surprised you don’t flinch this time. “But I’d like to make this a real thing. One of these days.”

“What do you mean?” you find yourself asking out loud. You fear what he means. You know exactly what he means, yet you want to hear him say it. He smiles again, but it’s a little more solemn this time. Likely because he’s anticipated an unhappy reaction because of course, what else is he going to expect from you at all?

“Marriage, of course,” he answers with a little purr, brushing a strand of hair away from your cheek. His hand trails down to your neck, where you still wear that gold chain on your neck like a dog collar. He owns you—entirely and completely, as much as you loathe to admit it. It’s already been a year and a half. Your spirit has begun to wear down. You have come close to accepting your fate. The same monotonous routine. Again and again. Being forced into a role you never wanted to play. Pretending like you actually care about the twins, which, truthfully, there’s a little part of you that does but a part of you resents them. Resents them for bringing this man into your life. Resents them for being the ones to suggest any of this at all.

Yet, a part of you can’t wholly fault them, either. They have been caught up in all of this mess. While they understand the kind of man Geto is…

No.

You have every right to be as resentful toward the girls as you are toward Geto and Gojo.

The tears dropping to your palms catch you by surprise.

And you’re sniffling. Loudly.

“Haven’t you done enough?” you whimper, and you don’t know what’s come over you but you can’t fight it anymore. You can’t hold back the sheer resentment and hatred. Your body trembles, your vision blurring as more tears stream down your cheeks. So much for acceptance, huh? “Or does finding other ways to make me loathe you more get your dick hard?”

Geto’s eyebrows raise at that, and you’re shocked that it’s not anger you see in his eyes but pain. Exhaustion. “Mamma…”

“Don’t call me that,” you sneer through a sob, shooting him a glare with a fury you have kept buried in you for so long you’re impressed you’re still managing an even tone. “I don’t understand why you don’t just off me like any other non-sorcerer. I’d just be one less monkey for the world, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s not true,” he replies, his expression crestfallen. “You’re damn worthy of everything I have to offer you. You know I don’t say things like that freely. You have the girls to thank for that. They helped me see how worthy you are.”

To hell with the girls, you so dearly wish to say but that’s a line you know you shouldn’t cross with Geto unless you really are asking for something.

“Do what you must to me,” you finally reply, “No matter what you do—punish me, whatever the hell it is you choose to—it won’t change anything. Ever. I loathe you. I loathe you and I loathe Satoru.”

“Mamma,” he murmurs, inching closer to you and resting a hand on the small of your back—but the way he touches you feels less like a warning and more like he’s attempting to console you instead and you can’t decide which is worse in that moment. Like what he does to you, what he has done to you, and what he will continue to do to you means nothing and that all you’re doing is overreacting. He rubs soothing circles into your back, and you bite the inside of your cheek. You can’t believe the audacity of this man.

“I won’t punish you,” he starts in an authoritative tone, much like he uses with the twins. “There’s no point to that anymore. Besides, it’s proved ineffective in the past if my goal is to make you feel like you’re part of our family.”

“I will never be a part of the family,” you shout, but the sob that comes out of your mouth makes you feel pathetic. More tears streaming down your face uncontrollably and you’re surprised how much comes out. How long have you been holding it? How has it taken you this long to release it?

Instead of scolding you, or being the condescending prick he usually is, his hands reach up to cup your face, brushing away the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. He leans in and presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose, frowning as he allows you to finally fucking crash out on him like you’ve wanted but you know this is ultimately going to solve nothing. He’s selfish; he won’t set you free. You’re everything he wants (apparently), and the girls adore you. Satoru adores you.

But it feels damning. It feels like a sentence worse than eternity in Hell. Every time you have tried to attempt at hurting yourself, something forbids you. You don’t know what it is, but you know Geto and the girls must have done something. With whatever they’re capable of doing as sorcerers. You can’t kill yourself. You can’t harm yourself. Every time you try you fail and due to forces you can’t see yourself.

“I still don’t want you to be afraid of me,” he whispers to you, and you break down into more sobs. You’re more than afraid of him. You loathe him—doesn’t he fucking see that?

“There’s nothing you can do to change that now,” you reply in a snippy tone. “Like I said, Suguru, do what you must. It won’t change my feelings. Nothing you do ever will. It must suck for you, huh? Living with someone who can’t even stand to look at you let alone breathe the same air as you, and it’s from a part of a subspecies you hate. Must really piss you off.”

“Not quite,” he answers flippantly, his expression hardening. “But I am disappointed. All I want is to be let in your world, Mamma, because I’ve already let you in mine. And there’s no way out for you now. I’m going to help you make the best of it.”

“Burn in Hell,” you quip, scrunching your nose before swatting his hands away from your face. He looks at you with wide eyes before he fully retracts his hands.

“I’m sorry, Mamma. I’m not letting you get off that easily,” he says, “But fine. Get some rest. Perhaps you’ll be all calmed down in the morning and we can have a civil discussion about our future together.”

“But if it eases some of your pain, Satoru doesn’t have to come near you like that anymore,” he decides, hoping that would gauge a more favorable reaction out of you. It does. A little bit. “I know you haven’t been fond of that as of late.”

“Fine,” you reply, folding your arms over your chest with a stubborn little pout for good measure. “Keep your fucking promise about that and then we’ll see.”

Jackpot. Don’t you dare give anything away. Don’t smirk or smile, nothing. That gets you out of something, at the very least. No more punishments. No more Satoru. That just means you have much more wiggle room.

Men really can be easy, can’t they?

Geto treats you to another date at a park. Unaccompanied by the girls this time around (otherwise it won’t be a date, he jokes)—likely in an effort to see how well you’re going to receive spending the rest of your life with him in a nightmare as hellish as this. It doesn’t matter what he does. It doesn’t matter what he changes. You aren’t in love with him. Not even a little bit. Not even a hint of Stockholm Syndrome because that’s just not who the fuck you are. You refuse to allow your resolve to crumble like paper; you’re made of fucking titanium and the fact that you’ve gone on this long without crashing out is a fucking miracle.

His hand is tightly wrapped around yours, and you can’t help but marvel at how much larger he is all around compared to you. His hand makes yours feel puny in his like a child’s, and he stands tall like a majestic Greek statue replica of a God. You can admire someone’s objective beauty without being attracted to them, and Geto’s the definition of an ethereal beauty. You have noticed the stares. He’s popular in the area; everyone knows about that wacky cult leader who performs exorcisms at his temple for those who believe they have been by spirits. Little do they know their suspicions are correct and they aren’t the crazy ones, but to the general public, it obviously sounds fucking insane.

But the more you pick up on curse spirits, the more you realize how much of humanity has been the cause of their own suffering. You have overheard Gojo and Geto discuss how spirits are born from negative human emotions, and when you think about the history of all of the supernatural folklore you’ve consumed in your youth, you can’t say you’re surprised. Most monsters are human, or human-born, and Geto is an example of that fact: born from normal humans but became a monster due to negative human experiences. Gojo on the other hand is seemingly attempting to take a more noble approach but there’s nothing about that guy that screams ‘noble.’ He’s as wicked and vile as Geto, but perhaps in more specific settings.

You glance at your surroundings. It’s a clear sky. You hear various species’ of birds chirping and while in the early mornings it grinds your gears at this moment it feels tranquil and peaceful. Even if you are with an absolute psychopath keeping close to you like a shadow. Everyone’s out enjoying their simple lives; you even catch a few happy, carefree couples like the day Geto spirited you away from the bakery. Something tugs at your heartstrings at the sight.

Even if you do get out of his hands, are you ever going to have a normal life? Are you ever going to find a peaceful, safe love, like these couples seem to? They seem like they’re glowing and perhaps that’s in part due to the glow of the sun’s rays bathing their skin. It all seems so unfair that your chances at anything normal might be done for the count. All because you have caught the eye of two greedy sorcerers who think they rule the damn universe.

They may as well be, if what they say is true: that they’re the strongest of the strong. Nothing can stop them. The only people who can stop each other, is well, each other. And neither of them want to destroy the other for the sake of stupid sorcerer vs human politics.

Geto calls your name, and you don’t realize you stopped in the middle of the stone bridge.

“Did you want to stay and enjoy the view here?” Geto inquires with a hum, shifting to wrap his arms around your stomach. You rest your hands over the rail and look out, smiling a little as you can see little schools of fishes in the small pond below. You sigh in delight as a refreshing gust of wind rushes past you both; the ends of Geto’s mane tickling your neck a little.

“I guess I had been lost in thought,” you admit shyly, not protesting as Geto pulls you in closer until your the back of your head rested against his chest. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, looking ahead to the distance with you. “Is it true, that only Gojo can kill you if it ever came down to it?”

“That is a matter that doesn’t concern you,” he mumbles, “But it is getting more complicated for him to see us.”

“Do you miss him?” you ask, rolling your eyes upward.

“Of course I do,” he says, lowering his voice a little. “But I have you here now. I’m not all that lonely anymore.”

Even if I can never love you back? Because the difference between Gojo and I is that he loves you, you think to yourself, biting back a groan in annoyance as Geto tightens his grip around your waist, fiddling with the hem of your pants absently like he wants to avoid this subject. Maybe Gojo’s absence really is affecting him.

“You know, maybe you should go after him,” you offer, “He might need to be the one to be chased, sometimes, you know?”

What the hell are you doing?

Not even you know.

But you don’’t think you’re crossing a line if you’re trying to console Geto in this case, and it’s all between you and him, right? You’re trying to push them in the right direction. Whatever the hell that means for them. As long as it gets them to shove you all the way out because you still don’t fully understand your purpose or your role.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he mutters after a period of reflection. “I think I’ll try that this time. I expect you to be on your best behavior if I’m gone for a while.”

“I don’t think you can expect anything less.” You can’t go anywhere. Not yet, anyway. But you’re going to find a way out of there.

You prefer without the ‘die trying’ part. You want to have some life left in you when you finally escape.

“I’m growing bored,” Geto announces while tugging you along across the bridge. “Come on. Let’s stroll around for a bit longer and then we can grab dinner anywhere around Takeshita Street.”

With a reluctant pout you allow him to tow you in wherever direction.

“Mom!” Mimiko calls out to you while approaching you with a little skip to her step. After the park date, Geto excuses himself to follow through on your suggestion under the guise of some matters he has to handle outside his business. He comes up with some elaborate yet believable lie, but now you’re left to cater to the twins in his absence while Miguel and some of his other nameless goons keep an eye on you.

You greet her with the most plastic smile you can.

“What is it, love?”

“How was your date with Mr. Geto?” she asks eagerly. Then Nanako steps in, shoving past her.

“Yeah! Did he get all romantic and everything?” she asks while clasping her hands together.

“Are you falling in love with Mr. Geto, Mom?”

“Girls, girls!” You sound like a kindergarten teacher calming a group of rowdy children as you raise your hands up in surrender. “Geto has been wonderful, no doubt.” What a fucking lie. “But everything is going to take some time to develop.”

“But you are staying, right?” Mimiko asks with hopeful eyes.

No.

“Of course,” you reply in a more robotic tone that they don’t point out much to your relief.

The girls beam at each other before turning to you again.

“We just want you to be happy too, Mom!” Nanako says, “And we don’t want you to be sad!”

Such fucking lies.

You can feel Miguel observing the scene unfold from the sidelines, his arms folded over his large, chiseled torso and you can’t make out his expression. He tends to maintain a neutral facade perhaps to protect himself.

As Nanako and Mimiko talk amongst themselves, you retire to sit on one of the couches. The thuds of heavy footfalls approach you, and you glance up to meet Miguel’s unreadable face.

“Hello,” you greet, your lips a bit pursed.

“So, got room to breathe did ya?”

You shrug. “Whatever that means for Geto, yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, and you quirk an eyebrow…for what? You have a feeling for what, they don’t think you belong here. Not for the reasons you at first suspect which is they all share disdain toward non-sorcerers. But because he pities your situation much like Suda does.

“Don’t have to be,” you reply, offering a small smile.

Miguel takes out your hand and rests a tiny, folded slip of paper onto your palm.

“I’ll escort you to your room now.”

“Thank you,” you respond, clenching your fist with the paper in it.

When he does, he speaks up again just outside the bedroom door.

“Your insignia,” he gestures to the pendant on the gold chain around your neck. “I added a little something extra for your sake.”

“Hm?” You tilt your head as your eyebrows knit together.

You unfold the paper and reveal the message.

It’s some kind of incantation along with instructions.

“Memorize it now. I have to burn the evidence,” Miguel instructs you. You nod, ingraining it all to your memory the best that you can. “While Satoru Gojo might be a little more difficult to escape, you’ll have no problem getting out of Gsto’s radar.”

Your brain short circuits for a moment.

…Hold the fucking phone.

“You know?” you gasp.

“Yeah,” he almost snickers, “Everyone and their mother here does. Those guys really think they have everyone fooled but no one is that dumb.”

“Apparently so,” you reply with a snort.

“Hang in there. I love Geto like a brother, but these matters aren’t your concern. You’ve just been dragged in for some unfortunate reason,” he goes on, adjusting his collar with a little grunt. “And I don’t know. I guess I just can’t let myself live with that. Neither can Miss Suda. Just remember, it’s between us.”

Miguel swipes the paper back and burns it to a crisp with a flick of his fingers. Your eyes widen. That is just like when Geto killed those innocent victims.

“Thank you,” you tell him, “So why did you choose to work for him?”

He shrugs as he brushes past you.

“I guess I just get where he’s coming from,” he answers, “He’s not all wacky, you know?”

“I very much disagree,” you counter with a frown.

Miguel laughs heartedly at that. “Can’t blame you one bit, Miss …. We’re not here claiming to be right or good, you know? We’re sorcerers, not saints. No matter which side we fight on.”

You bite your bottom lip.

“What more can you tell me about this world?”

It doesn’t look like Geto will return for a bit. Might as well take advantage of his absence while he fights for whatever it is he believes in between he and Gojo.

Miguel finally fills you in on some details Geto conveniently leaves you in the dark about.

It is in the dead of night when your sleep is interrupted by some rustling beside you. Geto curls an arm around you and kisses into your shoulder.

“Miss me?” he whispers with a little chuckle. Yeah. Sure, sure whatever he wants to believe, you fucking guess.

You hold your tongue, always knowing better than to speak your real truth—not unless you want things to go south for you all over again and you can’t afford another failure.

You scrunch your nose, adjusting yourself a little in your side of the bed, the mattress squeaking a bit as you move. “Mmhm-mm. How did things go with Satoru?”

“Wonderful,” he breathes, you can hear his smile, you don’t have to go searching for it in the blackness of the room. “Thanks to you and your brilliance, Mamma. Thank you.”

“Good,” you reply through a loud yawn, once again shifting in your spot and trying to get comfortable. “Get some sleep, darling. I’m glad I could do something for you.”

Laying it on so fucking thick.

“Satoru is coming by tomorrow,” he tells you, and you make a sound before you could stop yourself.

Fear shoots through your veins like an injection.

“But—!”

“—worry not,” he interjects, stealing another kiss on the corner of your lips, and then your jaw. “I won’t let him touch you. Not unless you’re okay with it. I’m a man of my word, Mamma.”

You find that very hard to believe.

“Okay,” you whimper, not protesting as he pulls you in close, practically spooning you and your breath hitches when his pelvis grinds into your ass.

“Suguru, darling,” you whisper, hiding your face into your pillow. You know a tear has slipped from your cheek. A real one. You’re so tired, and not just from the day. “Rest.”

“Okay,” he replies, nuzzling his nose into your neck, keeping you caged around his body.

You feel like you might suffocate in his hold but you just remind yourself that it might very well be almost over. Miguel is there. Suda is there.

You’re going to be okay.

Needless to say, Gojo doesn’t take well to the change in the arrangement. You can’t remember the last time Gojo came for a visit so naturally he’s going to be furious at the idea of not getting his end of the deal. He ultimately won’t deny anything Geto tells him to, you have taken notice to that very early on.

Geto lets him down easy, but even then—

“—What the fuck do you mean I can’t do anything today?”

“She’s not feeling it,” Geto retorts, casting a judging glare at Gojo. “Simple as that.”

Gojo casts a curious glance at you, fuming like a petulant toddler.

“Can we still snuggle, Princess? I swear I’ll keep my hands in modest places,” he begs, stepping toward you.

You’re sprawled on the couch, and dragging out a defeated sigh, you gesture for him to come with a wave of both of your hands. Gojo beams and squeals in glee like a child who just hit the jackpot at an arcade and swoops into your arms, burying his face between your breasts.

“Missed you,” he mumbles into your clothes with a pleased sigh, rubbing his face harder between your busty mounds. “Fuck, I’m in Heaven.”

So much for keeping his hands in modest places… they never truly follow through ok their word and you have come to accept that. It doesn’t mean it still doesn’t fucking piss you the fuck off.

You sneak a curious glance at Geto, who doesn’t seem pleased by Gojo in that moment. Oh so maybe he does actually want to show you a little grace for once? What a fucking refreshing change of pace!

Yet you doubt it’s going to last. Geto can only hang on for so long. His resolve crumbles so easily.

“Don’t touch, Satoru,” Suguru chides. This time his tone sounds a little different, like he’s playing a different tune. You sense a little note of jealousy. You aren’t sure if your ears are fooling you. Yes, Suguru believes he’s in love with you, but these feelings for you can’t possibly be real. “I expect you to follow orders.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gojo waves him off. His eyes roll up with a little sparkle to them. It’s here where you realize just how snow white his lashes are up close. It’s such a beautiful contrast, and such beauty is wasted on a man as pathetic as him.

Suguru joins the two of you on the couch, casting a sideways glance at Satoru burying his head between your boobs. You can catch that little flash of green from envy, like he fears Satoru may take advantage of you.

Why does he care so much all of a sudden? You feel your head winding like a spinning top—what the hell has changed all of a sudden? Nothing adds up. You’re adding two plus two and somehow coming out with five.

Then you remember what Geto brought up before. Realization dawns on you and your stomach sinks like the goddamn Titanic.

Is he serious about marrying you should things go to shit between he and Satoru because of that war?

When Miguel filled you in on the details you knew so little about, it still doesn’t make much sense to you, and nobody honestly expects you to understand anything. It’s a whole new world for you. Try as you truly might and even you have to accept the fact that indeed, this is not something you are meant to understand and maybe you just don’t have to. All the more reason why you have no reason to be here, in a world where nothing makes sense and you’re caught in a loop of being their favorite pet to torture.

“So what the hell are we doing then? If I can’t touch, Suguru?” he asks with a little indignant huff, snaking his arms around your waist and clinging tight. “Not sexually, I mean.”

As if this isn’t that, either?

“I’m still here, Satoru,” Suguru answers with a little smolder that makes you want to vomit. Satoru’s head snaps up and he grins wide.

“Of course I can’t say no to that!” Gojo says gleefully, his eyes practically lighting up at the prospect.

You wish you can breathe out in relief but you know that might raise questions. And you have no mood to be interrogated by the most infuriating duo. But Satoru settles onto Suguru’s lap instead, peppering slobbery kisses all over his face. Suguru cast a curious glance at you, hoping to see some kind of positive reaction that you won’t give him the satisfaction of giving because no one should be rewarded for basic decency. You turn away, hugging your knees to your chest.

As long as neither of them have to touch you today. Then you’re fine with whatever happens.

You just don’t want to be touched, for once.

“There was never us ruling out that she could be in charge of you today, Satoru,” you hear Suguru suggest and this time you twist your head over your shoulder, your mouth agape as you assess his expression for any catch to the idea.

“If it means I can feel her, then that’s a fantastic idea,” Satoru purrs with a wraggling of his eyebrows.

You definitely feel some bile threatening to spew out of your mouth. Fucking sickis. Fucking psychopaths. Fucking…dinguses! Morons! Nightmares! FUCKERS! YOU HATE FHEM WITH EVERYTHING IN YOUR HEART!

But you have to admit, Suguru’s idea does pique your interest a little.

“What am I allowed to do, Suguru?” you inquire with that same innocent tone, hoping your voice isn’t betraying you.

Suguru locks his arms around Satoru’s hips, humming in thought.

“Well, Satoru does have this little fantasy of getting pegged while he sucks me off…”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Are you okay with that, Suguru?” you ask in a syrupy sweet tone as you inch toward him, brushing your lips against his ear in a tantalizing, delicious way. You see his breath hitch in his throat and you can’t help yourself, your lips twitching upward in a smirk. “I’m happy to do that, if it makes you happy, Suguru.”

“I’m only happy if you’re comfortable doing so. But Satoru doesn’t get to touch you. That’s the rule now,” he whispers seductively, stealing a kiss on your lips. His hands sneak up Satoru’s thighs and Satoru gasps, instinctively spreading himself against Suguru’s lap.

Suguru cups Satoru’s cock roughly through his slacks and Satoru inhales through his nose sharply, inching toward the touch.

“Satoru, relax,” he chuckles, slipping his lover’s cock out and cuffing his tip roughly with one of his hands as the other pumps his shaft. “I barely even started.”

You snake an arm around Geto’s neck, scooting closer. He flashes you a little smirk.

“Can’t—haaa—help it, missed you,” he whimpers while his hands fly up to Geto’s chest, pinching his nipples through his robe.

“Undress me, my love,” he instructs you and you nod, sliding off the robe and he adjusts himself to make the process a bit easier. Gojo whines again, latching his lips onto one of Geto’s pecs and lavishing it with his tongue while Geto continues to fondle his cock. It’s already strained and stiff and leaking and Gojo is squirming in his spot, rendered utterly helpless at the slightest touch.

“Suguru?” you beckon for further instruction, trailing your fingers down one of his arms. He lets out a dreamy little sound, pleased by your touch, by your cooperation more so.

“Just follow my lead, my love.” He’s been calling you that more than ‘little dove,’ which is an improvement but not ideal to say the very least about the shift. “He can’t touch you, but you can touch him. Do you understand?”

So, there’s the catch. Of fucking course it’s never that fucking easy.

You nod. His mischievous smile widens.

“Good. Go to the storage unit and pick your poison. Grab the lube and choose a large one to peg him with. He needs something my size or bigger to satisfy that slutty hole of his.”

He emphasizes that statement with a firm fisting of his shaft and Gojo squirms in his hold again, whining.

“Suguru…! Haaa…! Please! Want Princess to fuck me!”

“Patience,” he chides with a sharp swat on one of Satoru’s thighs, making him keen and arch his back into Geto’s body.

“Want her to fuck my brains out,” he babbles on as you gather the strap-on, lube, and eyeballing the sizes. You choose one of the far girthier ones. You furrow your brows as you adjust the strap on and return with the bottle of lube in hand. While you have gathered the items Suguru has yanked Satoru’s pants off and adjusted him so it was just him on the couch. He keeps his legs spread wide and you hand the bottle of lube to Geto.

“I can take care of the prep and I’ll talk you through it, my love. You haven’t done any of this before?”

You shake your head. Of course you haven’t. This is all foreign territory to you but the idea you can control what happens to a certain degree in this is kind of appetizing and you shouldn’t feel that way because you know it’s all part of some grander scheme up Geto’s sleeve. He wants you to want him. He wants you to return his feelings no matter what he tells you otherwise. He is trying to appeal to you.

Don’t fall for it, you remind yourself. Don’t fucking fall for it. It’s all a fucking game.

Suguru grabs Gojo’s face, fingers digging into his cheeks, and guides him to his cock. Gojo opens up without protest, groaning in delight and arousal the moment Geto’s cock fully settles in his mouth. Slobber dribbles messily down Gojo’s chin as he bobs his head back and forth on his lover’s huge, hard cock. Moaning and groaning like it’s an honor to please him.

All the while Geto’s dextrous, slicked up fingers work him open with his other hand still pumping Gojo’s shaft.

You’re awestruck at the sight in the worst way, yet you can’t tear your eyes away. Just like they go at it like rabid animals with you, they go at it like rabid, insatiable animals with each other. Geto maintains a stellar pokerface while making Gojo deepthroat him and you’re certain you’re appalled yet you can’t deny the arousal pooling in your groin. 

You’re sick of your own perfectly natural physiological reactions. Maybe you’re getting off to the fact that you can actually take something back. The lewd squelching noises and the slicht! Slicht! Slitch! from Geto fisting Gojo’s cock is overstimulating and Gojo shouts when he splatters his own seed all across his abdomen and torso. Geto just laughs with vigor as Gojo pants from the high, muffled through Geto’s cock constantly hitting the back of his throat mercilessly.

Geto’s piercing violet gaze fixes on you as he curls his finger in a ‘come hither’ motion, and you cautiously approach him. He grasps the toy you chose that you attached to the strap on and lines it up to Gojo’s stretched entrance. He coos little sweet nothings to you as he assists you in sinking it inside, making Gojo thrash about but Geto commands him to hold fucking still.

“Just thrust your hips like that, my love. There you go, find a rhythm that works for you and makes him feel good,” he talks you through it like he promises, purring as he grabs a fistful of Gojo’s hair and controls the pace in which he fucks his mouth while you fuck into Gojo’s ass.

“Swallow me, Satoru,” Geto grunts a command and Gojo moans as he does as he’s told. He yanks Gojo’s mouth off of his dick and Gojo parts with kissing the tip of it before his voice breaks into more broken moans as you pick up a kind of moderate pace once you get the hang of it. Geto continues to coach you and guide you, admiring the view of the ridged girthy toy disappearing into Gojo’s hole.

“Fuuuuck, Princess, you’re such a fucking natural. Don’t stop!” Gojo babbles as a line of drool dribbles down his chin. Geto chuckles, remaining behind you and rubbing your shoulders as beads of sweat drops from your forehead and slides across one of your brows. Gojo’s praises and Geto’s words of encouragement do make you feel a type of way. You feel a sense of empowerment you haven’t felt in a long time. Watching Gojo grip the edge of the cushion he’s seated on trying to maintain some semblance of composure but he’s writhing and keening and all because of you and it’s riveting. Truly riveting and you can’t believe it.

“Ah—fuck—gonna—haaaaa—come, Princess! Fuck!” He shouts as Geto instructs you to watch his hole clench around the toy and his pathetic cock twitch as more seed splatters on his stomach again.

“You did so well, my love,” Geto gushes as he helps you pull out the toy and yanks it off of you. Gojo’s panting heavily, whimpering again.

“Don’t want to stop,” he begs, pouting, “Please please please let her fuck me again!”

Geto eyeballs you and you shake your head. While you kind of do, that took a lot out of you.

“Go easy on her, Satoru,” he purrs, “That was her first time doing something like that. And isn’t she a natural?”

His hand rests on the small of your back. You ignore the shot of cold crawling up and down your spine. You can’t show you still fear him yet you do. You do fear him and that’s exactly what he’s trying so hard not to make you feel around him.

But you mean what you said before—nothing’s ever going to change. Not for as long as your heart is still beating life into your body, are you ever going to feel anything other than fear and resentment for either he and Satoru. These men are a plague to you—parasites that have made a home out of tormenting you under the guise of affection.

“Want moooorrree, Suguru…” he drawls, sticking his tongue past his lips while clawing his hands at the air. “So good.”

“Looks like you broke him,” Geto murmurs in an amused tone into your ear, expecting a little giggle out of you at least but all you do is glance up at him with bewildered eyes. His expression falters. Of course you don’t fall for the schemes he pulls. “I got it from here. You rest now. You did so good.”

He presses a tender kiss to the bridge of your nose, and then your lips. When he pulls away, he has a soft look on his face. In another world it might have knocked the wind out of your lungs in the best way.

But this is not that world, you remind yourself. This world is still your personal Hell.

[meanderingstream]

Living through the Next American Political Order: Institutions Will Comply, and You Will Be Made Complicit

I woke up this morning to see that Donald Trump had been elected president again. Like roughly half of American voters, this is not the outcome that I had hoped for. Politics, like history, is chaotic and uncertain. Yet the victorious party in American politics last night has campaigned for years on a clear platform and a coherent vision of America’s future. Voters chose that party, and institutional guardrails will not constrain the next government. American life will change accordingly.

I did not predict this outcome. I predicted no outcome, because I did not know, and what I did know made me fearful. But about two weeks ago, liberals like me started to acknowledge—quietly, privately—that we thought Trump would win again. So I am not surprised, exactly. Nor is any woman I know, including my own daughter.

But I am demobilized and discouraged nevertheless. The results confirm some of my worst fears about what Americans will support when given the choice. And now I, like others who share my views towards the next administration, must ponder how to make our way through the coming years. The threats facing Americans are not all the same, and so they will be borne unequally; people with my characteristics will face fewer risks than many others. And yet all of us will need to wake up every day and make our way through our lives, mindful of the new political world we live in, but with the same obligations as ever amidst an uncertain and frightening new future.

When I wrote “Life in Authoritarian States is Mostly Boring and Tolerable” in 2017, I was anticipating a situation much like this one. And so in the early hours of the second Trump administration, here are the implications I see.

Liberalism is Not That Popular. I am a liberal at heart. I believe in individual autonomy, collective self-determination, and political equality. I believe that this implies a certain form of politics, including the rule of law, republicanism, and proceduralism. But my values are not that popular among the voting public, and the consequences are apparent. The liberal strands (dare I say “foundations”) of American politics shall be undermined, and some dismantled. Anyone who thinks that America has never been a liberal republic will find evidence to support their position as well.

Your Institutions Will Comply with the Administration. The next administration will likely destroy some institutions, but more likely, it will work with and reshape existing institutions to suit its purposes. The mechanisms through which this will happen are legal and financial. Concretely, this is how they will direct the corporate sector, constrain universities, and shape the mass media. Electoral authoritarian regimes routinely do this around the world. Our next administration will follow that playbook. There are plenty of past precedents in U.S. history, and comparative examples around the world right now.

That means, there will come a time when the administration tells the press not to publish a story, for reasons that are transparently nonsense. The press will comply. There will come a time when universities are told what they can teach and what students can do. They will comply too. They will comply because the consequences of noncompliance are too severe, even if every single person working within those institutions opposes the actions taken in their name.

You Will Face A Choice. Many people are going to be made vulnerable under the coming administration, especially anyone who lacks a U.S. passport, women, and gender nonconforming people. Most people living in the U.S. will not be so vulnerable, but we will operate within a system in which our friends and neighbors face existential risks. And because we are embedded in institutions, we will become the agents of the administration even if we do not want to be. The institutions will comply, rendering us complicit even through nonaction, without our consent, sometimes without our knowledge.

Last week I spoke to some students who had concerns about how my institution regulates speech and protest. I told them directly: you must not assume that our university can safeguard you. You should not believe any promise that they make, because they do not rule. Our financial and legal status is contingent, and a change in government will threaten that. Make your choices fully aware of this fact.

I’ll close by spelling out the implications of this last point. People like me will face difficult, perhaps even agonizing choices about whether to comply with odious policies and oppressive regulations. Some of us will resist when we can, but others will not. It is best, in the quiet of the morning after, to sit down and think, what will you resist, and what price are you prepared to pay for that resistance.

We must all make these decisions for ourselves. I have my own values. But I also look around the world to see other countries where governments like Trump’s have been elected. And because I believe that we learn from the world around us, I anticipate that most Americans, most of the time, will choose not to resist

Thoughts on this situation, and managing it.

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

The Legend of the Gobblewonker

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue

The first thing that seems suspicious to Stan is now refreshed he feels upon waking up.

He hasn't felt this good in thirty years. Hell, maybe even longer than that!

It's like the strain of constant all-nighters and age-related body aches have been lifted from him overnight.

Stan feels like a twenty year old again and it freaks him out. 

His back doesn't even ache when he sits up and overcompensates the motion, nearly throwing himself out of the bed.

He hits the floor with a muffled grunt, surprised when the landing doesn't hurt. His skin is so thin these days that just bumping into the dining table leaves him bruised for weeks.

Stan rolls to a stop, sitting against the wall with his hair flopping in his face.

"Just great," he grumbles, pushing his unruly, brown curls out of his eyes. He paused, brow furrowing as he contemplated the strands between his fingers.

Wait― brown?

His hair hasn't been brown since before Soos was born and hold on! How long has it been since he could see this clearly without his glasses? Granted, his vision is still pretty blurry looking at things up close, but he could make out the babes on his magazines over on the dresser. 

He really should put those away somewhere in case the twins decided to come snooping in his room.

Almost robotically, Stan picks himself up off the floor and puts away his copies of Fully Clothed Women. Then, with poorly concealed anxiety, he turns to face the mirror. A terrified teenager stares back at him with wide, clear eyes. The absence of cataracts makes denying the reality of his situation an impossible feat.

The face in the mirror is one he loathes. The boy who ruined his brother's future and tore apart their family. He has a rounded baby face with only a hint of a sharp jawline waiting to form. His eyebrows are as brown and thick as his hair, dark curls that stick up all over the place without extra-strength gel to hold them back. There's acne spots on his chin and not even a trace of stubble to hide the freckles he's had since childhood. Even the boy's ears are smaller and he's screaming. 

Stanley Pines is screaming in his bedroom like he's being murdered and he can't figure out how to stop.

"Grunkle Stan!"

The twins burst into the room like wrecking balls, brandishing a golf club and a grappling hook with fear in their eyes. 

At least he hid his magazines in time.

They scream at the sight of him and, hey, he can relate, but the sound hurts his ears. Hurts enough to stop his own screaming. 

Even in a seventeen-year old’s body, he might still need the hearing aide after that. 

"Grunkle Stan, what happened to you?" Mabel shrieks, her eyes wide. "Was it the gnomes? Did they use some kind of gnomey magic on you as revenge for me not marrying them?"

Dipper, half-hidden behind his sister's wild bedhead, stares at him with a slack jaw. Apparently, he's been left speechless by the sight of his now teenage great-uncle.

But… gnomes?

Already the kids have gotten involved with the town's weirdness.

Stan has to salvage the situation as best he can before the twins run off into the woods in search of some mystic answer. 

He runs a hand over his hair, smoothing it back only for it to spring forward again and stick to his forehead. Ugh. Had he always been this sweaty as a teenager?

He pitied Dipper if that were the case.

"Beats me, kid." Stan says as he looks back at the mirror, trying to keep a hold on his rising anxiety. That same horrible face stares back at him. He shudders and forces his gaze back to the twins. "Probably the result of some radioactive runoff. It'll fade in a day or two, no sweat. But stay out of the woods. I don't want you running into anything and makin' me change diapers. You two want breakfast? I'm thinkin' pancakes."

“Grunkle Stan, how can you think of food at a time like this?” Dipper cries, his voice breaking. Yeesh, is Stan going to have to worry about his voice doing that again? “What if this is some magical curse that’ll deage you right out of existence? Ohhh man, I gotta check the journal!”

Well, that’s a horrifying thought.

But Stan’s mind short-circuits at the boy’s words.

Journal?

Journal?!

Only a few days in Gravity Falls and the boy finds the very thing Stan’s spent thirty years looking for.

What kinda cosmic bullshit―?!

Stan groans and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Look, kid. You wanna hit the books, then fine.” he huffs. “But you’ll do it at the breakfast table. Mabel, sweetie, you wanna help me get everything together?”

Dipper looks affronted by the brush-off, but Mabel looks conflicted. She looks Stan overly slowly, taking in the way he’s standing straight and his clear eyes. There’s anxiety written all over his face that he’s struggling to conceal behind an expressionless face.

“You’re sure you feel alright?” she asks, coming to some conclusion about his new state.

Stan softens at her concern and gently ruffles her hair.

“Better than I’ve felt in years.” he confirms solemnly. “And I’ll be even better once I get some food. C’mon, kids.”

The twins follow him without complaint, but much concern in their body language.

Stan fights the urge to look back at his strange reflection. This was just perfect. Not only did he have the kids underfoot, but he was also so close to that final piece of the puzzle to getting his brother back only to have to figure out a way to get it from his great-nephew without being found out. And on top of that, he had somehow become seventeen again overnight!

A long day stretched out ahead of him and made his chest clench. There would be no opening the Shack today, that was for sure, but…

Well, he’d gone to bed with the thought last night. What was stopping him from putting it into motion now?

A Family Fun day was just what they needed with this new revelation. And he’d be damned if he let some Gravity Falls weirdness get in the way.

Getting the kids into the car is easy enough. They're not willing to let him out of their sight for long and it was a headache in and of itself to shake them long enough to put his fishing gear in the car. They don't question his choice of shorts and a T-shirt.

His suit is too big for him now, loose in the shoulders and stomach in a way it's never been before. No girdle needed and he loathes the idea of taking the suit in any in case this sudden weirdness fades and he's left without his signature look.

The twins take their arrival at the lake with less grace.

And maybe coming out to the lake where the whole town has gathered isn't the best of ideas with him looking this way. But Stan has half of a plan to deal with that when someone brings it up. It'll be fine. They'll be fine.

"C'mon," he urges the twins when they still seem skeptical. "This'll be great! I've never had fishin' buddies before. The guys at the lodge won’t go with me― they don't like or trust me."

The words don't actually sway them, but like he said: they don't want to let him out of their sight. If he wasn't so relieved about keeping them out of the woods, the sentiment might bother him. He's been around the block way longer than they have. And he's taken care of himself just fine since he actually was seventeen. He didn't need to babysat.

But he'll use their concern to his advantage.

They're not impressed by his handmade hats or his joke book, but they don't get the chance to protest before McGucket arrives in the middle of another one of his episodes.

But the town hillbilly's words seem to light a fire in Dipper about a monster hunt. And, of course, Mabel is ready to follow her brother into the unknown.

Which is when Soos comes in.

Stan had hoped to keep him out of it for a little longer, but the man is practically the only family Stan's had in ten years. There was never a chance at keeping him out of the loop for long.

He freaks out. Stares at Stan like he's the one of the Wonders of the World and, for once, Stan hates it.

"Yeah, it's really me." Stan grumbles, a pout forming as he crosses his arms. "Now shut your yap so we can get fishin' ''

"I dunno, Mr. Pines." Soos says awkwardly, scratching at his scalp. His hat is dislodged by the movement, revealing a few wisps of his dark hair. "You sure it's a good idea to go out like that? I mean, what if you turn into a merman or something? Dude, that'd be so cool if you did, but I don't think it's a good idea to mess with magic like that, dawg."

"There's no magic here," Stan insists grumpily, glaring holes into his handyman's head. Seriously, he had to worry about him blowing the lid on everything, too? "I just wanna go fishin', is that too much to ask?"

The kids look conflicted, but it isn't enough to keep them from getting on Soos' boat and dragging Stan along.

Well, as long as he looks like a teenager, then he's gonna act like one.

Stan plops down in the seat behind the wheel and refuses to join the others as Dipper goes about explaining his plan. He knows that fishing doesn't seem like the most fun  of pastimes, but there was more to it than that! It was a chance to sit down with someone and talk without the distractions of everyday life getting in the way. Like the forced bonding that came with high school with thae chance of free dinner at the end.

Still, it is a little funny watching Soos eat fish bait. Stan turns his head and refuses to laugh at him. Or at Mabel's terrible ventriloquism. There was an idea for a shack attraction.

Scuttlebutt island is just as terrible as he thought it'd be, all wet fog and strange shadows in the distance. Stan has no idea about what’s lurking here and he hurries out of the boat in case something tries to grab the kids.

And something did. A huge, hulking monstrosity of a sea beast.

Once, Stan had dreamed of finding something like that alongside his brother, him punching the thing into submission so Ford could dissect it.

Forty years and a pair of kids by his side turned that dream into a nightmare.

He found himself screaming again, a twin under each arm as he and Soos sprint away from the Gobblewonker, only a step ahead of those sharp teeth. Then it's back into the boat where he has to hold onto the kids to keep them from flying out of the boat while they race across the water, nearly overturning some Hallmark family and their boat. Dan Corduroy and his sons go right in the drink before Soos crashes the boat into a hidden cave behind the falls.

Dipper is ecstatic with the capture of the lake monster before it's revealed to be McGucket piloting a monster machine like the Wizard of Oz.

"You just don't know the lengths us old-timers go through for a little quality time with our family."

The words ring more true Stan cares to admit and they seem to reach the twins, too.

"You think we still have enough time to go fishing?" Dipper asks hopefully, in sync with his sister as they don the hats Stan gave them.

He smiles reluctantly at the sight and they take the remnants of Soos' boat back to the Stan 'O War II.

"Hey, you knuckleheads ever seen me thread a hook with my eyes closed?" Stan grins once they're safely in his boat.

"Five bucks says you can't do it!" Dipper accepts eagerly, showing some of Stan's own personality.

"You're on!" Stan declares, trapping the boy in a noogie.

Dipper shrieks and laughs, unable to fend him off until Mabel jumps in to help.

"Five more bucks says you can't do it with your eyes closed plus me singing at the top of my lungs!" she screeches with her hands around his throat and joy in her tone.

"I like those odds!" Stan roars with laughter as he plucks her off his shoulders to blow raspberries against her belly.

It's not the perfect Family Fun Day he'd hoped for, but there's more laughter in that one afternoon on the lake than he's had in forty years. And he’ll take that for all it’s worth, Gravity Falls weirdness involved or not.

[danielmolloystits]

looks just like an angel (Armand/Daniel, 1/1)

Summary:

The man in the chair—who Daniel assumes must be the priest, judging by his black button-down and white collar—looks up and smiles as he enters, all gleaming white teeth like one of those ads for toothpaste that four out of five dentists recommend. He has deep skin and dark, curly hair that he keeps having to brush away from his brown eyes. “Hello,” the priests greets him. “Welcome.” “Um,” Daniel says. “Hi.” — The drug den Daniel wakes up in after his encounter with Louis and Armand gets busted, and Armand decides to pretend to be the priest at his court-ordered N.A. meetings. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Pairing: M/M, Armand/Daniel Molloy (Devil's Minion) Rating: E WC: 5,555

It’s 9:52 in the morning. Daniel’s mouth tastes like he ate roadkill for breakfast and his head is pounding so loud he wants to tell it to come back with a warrant. Across from him sits his probation officer, whose name he’s pretty sure is Sarah, wielding a kind expression and a notepad that contains a quick summary of Daniel’s many sins.

So far, he likes Sarah. Sarah is nice. Sarah is telling him how she’s going to get him through this without it destroying his entire life. Well, she hasn’t used those precise words, exactly, but Daniel has been able to glean the gist of it—she’s been saying things like “first offense” and “dismiss the charges” and it has all vaguely sounded like it might not screw everything up for him forever.

So that’s something, at least.

“Of course, pretrial diversion does come with some requirements on your end,” Probably-Sarah is saying, with a look of what appears to be genuine concern on her face. Maybe she’s a good liar, but Daniel thinks there’s a chance she actually cares about the dumb hungover kid who’s half-sitting, half-melting in her office chair. “You’ll need to start attending NA—Narcotics Anonymous, that is—and we’re going to administer periodic drug tests to make sure you’re keeping clean.”

Christ, he’s such an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot who’s just lucky to not be dead right now. His innards churn miserably in agreement with that thought, and Daniel hopes that they’re at the tail end of this pretrial check-in thingy. He really doesn’t want to throw up on this nice lady’s carpet.

Sarah continues, “But if you hold up your end of the bargain, then I’ll hold up mine.” She smiles at him, apparently oblivious to the imminently-threatening hostage situation that is Daniel’s stomach right now. It’s kind of sweet, though; she looks like she really believes he’s gonna make it through this program. Like she thinks he could maybe be somebody someday.

A bright young reporter with a point of view.

“And if all goes well, then after your probationary period is up, you’ll never have to see me again.” She tilts her head at him, and sure, it’s condescending. But, like, in the nice way moms are sometimes. “Let’s try to make sure that happens, yeah?” She passes him a stack of papers that repeat all of the information she just gave him verbally, which Daniel is grateful for, because it’s been challenging to try to pay attention when his insides are so valiantly attempting to become his outsides. “I’ll see you two weeks from now.”

Daniel nods and hurries out of the room, right as the hostage situation devolves into a massacre with no survivors. He swallows against the gastric acid and bits of egg that are currently attempting to escape his throat and rushes to the single-stall bathroom down the hall, sending a prayer of thanks to every higher power he can think of that it’s unoccupied. By some small miracle, he manages to keep his shit together until he is on his knees in front of the toilet, at which point everything he’s put in his body for the past week unceremoniously comes back out.

Idly, he wonders how many public bathrooms he’s done this in by now, how many times he has been in this same stupid situation—his mouth and nose hovering above a filthy fucking toilet seat that’s touched the asses of God knows how many strangers—as the choices from the night before come back to haunt him like an ex-lover after a bad breakup.

Too many, he thinks. Definitely too many.

He looks down at where the informational materials are still crumpled in his left fist, pastel-colored pamphlets with titles like Self-Acceptance and Am I An Addict?, and thinks he could probably use a break from living like this. Thinks maybe this won’t be such a bad thing if it leads to him finally getting clean.

After all, it sure as hell can’t get any worse.

***

Two nights later, Daniel arrives at the church closest to where he’s staying in the Castro, which the Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous pamphlet told him hosts meetings three nights a week. Our Lady of Most Holy and Ardent Redemptions, or whatever. He doesn’t actually remember, but he’s sure it was something like that: all overwrought and Catholic, a name that’s meant to imply you have to absolve yourself for the crime of being born.

As he walks through the vestibule, he’s surprised to find it utterly abandoned, blanketed in a thick layer of silence that clings to the dusty pews and eggshell-colored walls like a film. It’s eerie, almost, this conspicuous absence of life—if it weren’t for the printed-out sign attached to the back of the pulpit that reads NA meeting downstairs in Rosary Room!, he’d assume he’d gone to the wrong place entirely. As it is, he wanders around the nave with a vague sense of unease until he finds the stairs to the basement, then follows the unsettlingly-cheery instructions of yet more signs until he reaches one that says NA Meeting here!!! taped to a mahogany door.

For a moment, he has the absurd impulse to knock, as if he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. He shakes himself out of it and opens the door.

Inside, there isn’t much to look at: a handful of low bookshelves pressed snugly against the wall, a long table with a coffee pot and an unopened box of donuts, and seven or eight folding chairs arranged in a circle.

Only one of them is occupied.

The man in the chair—who Daniel assumes must be the priest, judging by his black button-down and white collar—looks up and smiles as he enters, all gleaming white teeth like one of those ads for toothpaste that four out of five dentists recommend. He has deep skin and dark, curly hair that he keeps having to brush away from his brown eyes.

“Hello,” the priests greets him. “Welcome.”

“Um,” Daniel says. “Hi.”

“It would seem you are our only attendee for this evening.” A sheepish little laugh rumbles out from the priest’s chest as he adds, “I suppose sobriety is not so much in vogue these days.” He has an accent, Daniel notes, like maybe he emigrated from England but was somewhere else before that. The way it squeezes around his vowels is dimly familiar.

“Guess not,” Daniel agrees, casting a sideways glance at all of the empty chairs. The poor attendance doesn’t bode great for the overall well-being of the Castro’s citizenry, he reckons; it’s certainly not because they don’t need to be here. “Isn’t NA supposed to be group therapy? Is it still gonna...work?”

The priest chuckles softly again, a light exhalation of air to break the stillness in the room. “Yes, though it appears our session will perhaps be a touch more intimate than most. I hope you don’t mind a bit of individualized attention.” His eyes sparkle, almost seem to shine, as he gestures for Daniel to take the seat across from him. “Please, sit. I’m Father Armand.”

He does. “Daniel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Daniel,” Father Armand says sweetly, and wow, he has really thick eyelashes. So thick and dark that Daniel wonders briefly whether he’s wearing mascara—though he isn’t sure whether priests are allowed to do that. “What brings you to Narcotics Anonymous?”

“Um.” He stutters, flushed and awkward with the weight of Father Armand’s undivided attention. “This is the part where I’m supposed to say I’m an addict, right?”

“It’s just us, Daniel,” the other man replies, in a low and conspiratorial whisper. Like the two of them are getting away with something, like this is a part of an inside joke they’ve shared for years. “You may say whatever you’d like.”

“What if I don’t want to say anything?”

“That’s fine, too,” Father Armand answers easily, a reassuring smile on his face. “Though we might not make much progress on the issues that brought you here if we sit in silence.”

“Fair enough,” Daniel says. “All right, I guess I’m here because a court ordered it. I’d really rather not be.”

“This is not the outcome you’d have wanted, then, but perhaps it is the one you need.” And, warm and friendly as he is trying to be, the priest’s stare seems to cut straight through him, right down to the ugly things inside him that he endeavors to hide. It is wildly discomforting. “An intervention from a higher power, of sorts.”

“Not how I’d put it, personally,” Daniel says, simultaneously bemused and on-edge. He scratches an itch on his forehead. “More like an intervention from the SFPD.”

“Even the SFPD answers to God, Daniel.”

“O-kay.” Unsurprisingly, the fatalistic religious bullshit is not doing much to set Daniel at ease in this situation. “But yeah. I’m, uh. Here because I got busted. In a drug den.”

“What were you doing in a drug den?”

“Well.” Daniel blinks at him. “Drugs, mostly.”

“Yes, that much is obvious,” Father Armand says, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “But what compelled you to the drug den in the first place?” Then, before Daniel can answer, he continues, “Don’t say ‘drugs’ again.”

Daniel was definitely about to say ‘drugs’ again. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here, man,” he answers instead, shrugging one shoulder noncommittally. “I like getting high. Not a lot more to it.”

“There’s always more to it,” the priest replies, sage-like and frustratingly stoic. “Whether we want to admit to it or not.”

“Orrr,” he drawls the single syllable out sarcastically, “maybe it’s just not worth telling. I was there because I wanted to do drugs and I got caught, dude.”

Father Armand hums thoughtfully. “Surely something in the evening must have led you there, though.”

“I don’t really remember,” Daniel says, and he’s maybe starting to lose his patience a little. “Probably on account of being radically high.”

“You can’t recall anything about the evening other than its conclusion?” In the dim lighting of the basement, the priest’s expression is difficult to read.

He frowns. “I might’ve met a guy at a bar, before. I think I was at Polynesian Mary’s, maybe?”

“Do you meet guys at bars often, Daniel?”

Immediately, he tenses, a frisson of indignation alighting in his gut at the priest’s thinly-veiled judgment.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He probably should’ve known better than to expect anything approaching compassion or understanding from the Catholic fucking Church. Lesson learned for next time—maybe the Episcopalians are running NA somewhere in the city.

“I meant no offense, Daniel,” Father Armand says, voice calm and composed in stark contrast to Daniel’s rising indignation. “I’m just inquiring as to your habits, to get a sense of where you could benefit from some lifestyle changes.”

“Oh, and I’m sure whatever you think I’m doing with these men is high on that list, right? This is the Castro, dude. Fuck you.”

“You have quite a lot of anger,” the priest comments dryly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as though he’s inspecting Daniel. “Is that what drives you to use?”

Is that what makes you fascinating?

“No, seriously, dude: fuck you. I’m not putting up with this shit.” He stands to leave, but Father Armand reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can, his grip unexpectedly steely.

“A reminder, Daniel, that your participation in this process is necessary if you wish to avoid jail time,” he says, still smiling that same, infuriating smile.

Daniel stops in his tracks. “Maybe not. I’ll work something out with my P.O., I’ll–”

“Yes, Sarah, was it?” Father Armand asks. “I wonder how she would react to news of your resistance to the process.”

“You–”

“I’m only here to help, Daniel,” the priest interrupts with an infuriatingly placid smile. “Now, are you intending to cooperate, or shall I go ahead and inform Sarah of your refusal to participate?” He gestures once more for Daniel to sit, his expression replete with a cool smugness. Begrudgingly, Daniel complies.

“Fucking—whatever, fine.” He closes his eyes and exhales noisily through his nose, trying to will himself into a state of calm. When he opens them again, the priest is staring at him expectantly. “I guess I use because I...I get bored.”

“Bored of what?”

“I dunno, dude.” He shrugs. “Sobriety. Life. Everything.”

Father Armand leans in even closer. “Interesting.”

“If you say so, man.” Daniel rolls his eyes. “Mostly it’s just tedious. I mean, all of it.”

“How so?” There is nothing but apparent sincerity in the question, which makes Daniel’s shoulders relax a fraction.

“It’s the same shit every day, isn’t it? Wake up, go to work, eat dinner, watch TV, over and over until you die,” he says, and the priest nods along as he speaks attentively. “At least drugs break up the monotony a little.”

The unnamed malaise you feel on Sunday afternoons.

“Sure,” Father Armand agrees breezily, his eyes never straying from Daniel’s. “If you do them once in a while, maybe. But they’ve become part of your routine, haven’t they?”

Daniel crosses his arms belligerently. “You don’t know me, man. You’re not my fuckin’ friend.”

“I’m not here to be your friend, Daniel,” Father Armand replies, tone clipped and succinct; annoyed, almost. But then, more delicately, he adds, “I’m here to help you get better. The first step is admitting you have a problem, no?”

“I guess.” Daniel slumps back in his seat, running a hand over his face in exasperation. “All right, so let’s say I have a problem. What next?”

“The next step is coming to believe in a power greater than yourself.” The priest’s hands are clasped together, his thumbs twiddling idly as he speaks, “One that is capable of delivering you from your illness.”

“So, what,” Daniel deadpans. “I’ve gotta convert to Catholicism?”

“If you’re so inclined,” Father Armand responds wryly, as if he’s privy to some great secret that eludes the poor, ailing addict. Daniel wonders in that moment how old the other man is. He can’t have too many years on Daniel, surely, but he seems so much older that it’s almost a little unnerving. “However, it could be anything, really; your love for your family, your will to live. It could even be me, if you wanted.”

He says it like it’s meant to be another bad joke, but something about it brings Daniel up short. Like he’s not really joking at all, actually. “You could be my higher power?” he asks flatly, unsettled and using a fair amount of bluster to cover it. “Isn’t that sort of sacrilegious?”

“I’m not suggesting you pray to me; I’m suggesting you allow me to carry some of the pain that troubles you. To share in the weight of the dreary mundanities that lead you to use.” The priest’s eyes bore into his, his tone soft and reassuring. “I assure you, Daniel, God will have nothing to say about it.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Father Armand smiles. “I want to help you. Is that so difficult to believe?”

And it is, really. But despite his misgivings—practically against his will—a sense of calm washes over Daniel at the sound of the priest’s voice; the crash of a wave lapping gently at a shoreline, soothing the impotent swell of restless irritation that has been building inside of him since he first sat down. All of that rage, those years and years of tiresome anger, snuffed out as easily as the flickering light of a candle. With nothing more than a few words, Father Armand has taken the heft of that burden from him, as effortlessly as if Daniel had handed it over to him willingly.

Rest, now.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much after all, he thinks—putting the confusing knot of chaos inside of him into someone else’s hands. Maybe it would be nice to give his will over to something greater than himself.

“Okay,” Daniel hears himself saying, as though from a great distance. He’s hardly even aware he’s speaking. “Okay. It can be you.”

Rest.

Father Armand beams at him then, and Daniel realizes for the first time how beautiful he is; he looks just like an angel in a Renaissance painting, like a portrait of a martyred saint. His eyes seem less brown, now, closer to the rich and vibrant glow of an ember. Of course Daniel can trust him. Of course.

“Excellent,” he says, and his hands extend to clasp around one of Daniel’s. The leather over his skin is cold. “You are safe with me, Daniel.”

Rest.

Mutely, Daniel nods. The part of him that wishes to object is so quickly subdued, as if smothered by an insistent hand.

“Now,” Father Armand begins, the dingy gold of the basement lights glistening off of his teeth, “you’re going to tell me about what happened before the drug den. What do you remember, Daniel?”

I’m the quiet you’ve been longing for.

As the unspoken words pierce through the veil of his cognition, Daniel jerks like a sleeper agent awakened. In between one moment and the next, his mind is inundated with lurid images of an apartment, the apartment he was in before he wound up in the den: a man—if he can even be called a man—who looks so much like the priest is hovering over Daniel, whispering devastating kindnesses into his ear until the fight slowly drains from his body. He tries to hold onto the shape of them, to remember what it was that happened, but the flashes slip through his fingers as easily as soap bubbles off of a dinner plate. As he reaches for them, grasps at them, a pressure builds in the base of his skull like a low roll of thunder, and a scream tears through his shaking body. He cannot hear it over the ringing in his ears, but he can feel it, feel it rattle his chest and reverberate in his bones. It is agony, unending and complete. It is torture.

The only comfort through all of it is the weight of Father Armand’s hand around his own.

“It hurts,” Daniel whines, instinctively trying to shy away from the throbbing fissure in his head by leaning further into Father Armand’s touch. Tears prick the corners of his eyes like pins.

“Does it?” the priest asks, voice steady and still like the face of a mountain. “Good. Pain is your body’s way of telling you to avoid something. If it hurts, move away from it.”

Daniel sobs, and the next thing he knows he is on the ground, having fallen off of his chair; the hard press of the floor underneath him is the only thing holding him up. “Please,” he begs, not really sure what it is he’s asking for.

A cool finger crooks under his chin to tilt his head up. Through his swimming vision, Daniel sees Father Armand looking down at him. “Do you want me to make it stop?”

“Yes,” he breathes, his body curling up into the fetal position like a dying cockroach. “Please.”

The priest frowns, dispassionate. “What would you do for it? What would you give?”

I could be on my knees in a second.

Another burst of pain blossoms underneath Daniel’s eyes and he winces, cries out. “Anything,” he promises, his fingers reaching out to clutch at the leg of Father Armand’s trousers. “I’d give anything.”

“Would you give me money, Daniel?”

He nods enthusiastically even as the motion of it only exacerbates his anguish. “Yeah,” he says, “everything I have.”

“Hmm,” the priest hums. His expression as he watches Daniel is calculating, frigid. Slowly, he lifts one Doc Marten-booted foot to rest on Daniel’s chest. “Would you give me your obedience?”

Instinctively, Daniel’s spine straightens under the weight of his heel, the firm way it presses down on him a strange but poignant comfort in his addled state. The feeling it grants him is not quite relief, but it is something adjacent to it, something that loosens the tightly-wound tangle of anxiety that squeezes his lungs. He craves more of it. “Yes.”

“Yes what, Daniel?”

He swallows roughly. “Yes, Father.”

Lowly, the priest murmurs, “Good boy.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, his gaze growing half-lidded and hungry. “Ask me what you can do for me, Daniel.”

A shudder runs through him, sharp and electric. His mouth tastes of ozone. “What can I do for you, Father?”

The priest grins at him, then, wicked and predatory. “Worship me.”

The words echo around Daniel’s mind like a hollow room, silencing all other thought. Silencing the terrible cacophony that has been threatening to rend his very self in two. He squirms with the ecstasy of it—the unparalleled bliss of reprieve—mewling his acquiescence to the priest’s demand.

He can feel Father Armand’s pleasure at his submission trickling like a leaky faucet down his spine. “Do you feel that, Daniel?” he asks, as calmly as if he were asking about the weather.

Tears are still streaming down Daniel’s cheeks; his nose is stuffed and snotty from crying. “Yes, Father,” he croaks.

“That is solace, my dear boy,” the priest tells him, unwavering and impassive. “I have given it to you, and I can take it away from you just as easily.”

At the thought of the pain returning, a fierce panic slices through Daniel, hot and pointed as a knife in his guts. “No,” he moans, his bottom lip quivering as he stares at Father Armand. “Please don’t.”

The boot presses down harder, pinning him to the yellowed carpet. “You forget yourself, Daniel,” the priest replies.

He whimpers and corrects himself: “Please don’t, Father.”

“That’s better,” Father Armand says with a mean twist of his lips. “Tell me: where is your place?”

And Daniel has played this role before, knows the script by heart. Could recite it in his sleep if he had to. “Beneath you, Father.”

The priest grinds his heel into Daniel’s sternum, then, wrenching a pitiful cry from between the boy’s lips. It hurts, of course, but in a different way than before; this isn’t the horror of his soul being cracked in half and poured over the ground. This is a familiar pain, a welcome one, one that Daniel arches up into like a cat stretching its back.

“Do you like that, Daniel?” Father Armand asks, a trace of amusement coloring his voice. “Do you like it when I hurt you?”

Wordlessly, Daniel nods, because he does. He always has. He’s always pining to feel something, anything. Whatever it takes if it means not being bored.

“Say it.”

“I like it,” Daniel wheezes, forcing the words out from underneath the weight on his chest. “I like when you hurt me, Father.”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” the priest purrs, half-aroused and half-contemptuous.

“Yes.” Daniel hisses, his fingers clawing into the carpet as his body curves to accommodate—to seek out—the press of Father Armand’s heavy boot. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, that he wants this after everything that’s happened today (the past week, some distant part of his mind whispers), but he does. Maybe he simply craves the release of oblivion after teetering over the edge of it. “Yes, Father.”

“I could make you feel good, too. If I felt like it.” He lifts his foot a fraction of an inch, enough to make Daniel’s lungs expand gratefully where they’ve been compressed. Then, slowly, he drags the toe of his boot down, down, down to where the boy is hard and aching in his jeans. He runs his instep along the shameful bulge that presses against Daniel’s zipper, pressing just lightly enough to tease. To threaten. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Daniel moans, a needful, pathetic little sound that makes Father Armand snarl. “I do, Father.”

“Do you think you deserve that, Daniel?” His boot pushes down a bit harder, and Daniel writhes into it, gasps at the delicious torment of the priest’s brutality.

“No, Father.”

“Beg for it, then.” Even though Daniel’s eyes are screwed shut, he can feel the burning weight of the other man’s stare boring into him. His boot steps harder still. “Beg for me. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Daniel wants to reply, knows that he needs to reply, but he can’t; his mouth is too occupied with crying out, held captive as he is in a state of delirium.

“Pathetic,” Father Armand spits at him. “Must I speak for you now, too?”

He can do nothing more than nod, than accept the fate he has been dealt at the hands of this cruel master.

“You want me to fuck you.” It isn’t a question; rather, the priest speaks flatly, clinically, down at the boy he has pinned. “You want me to bury my tongue in your ass until your voice gives out from screaming and then fill you to the point of breaking, is that right?”

The words are torn directly from Daniel’s thoughts as though Father Armand heard them uttered aloud. As though he can read the twisted desires playing on repeat in Daniel’s mind as plainly as thumbing through a children’s picture book. The noise Daniel makes isn’t so much language as one of desperation distilled.

The boot lifts off of his chest, suddenly. “Stand.”

Daniel does, albeit slowly and on shaky legs that threaten to buckle from underneath him.

Father Armand smiles. “Good boy.” He gestures with his chin in the direction of the table, still covered in untouched donuts and cold coffee. “Bend over. And drop your pants.”

Sweating and trembling, Daniel feels more of a mess now than he did the day he awoke from his bender. Like the screws holding him together have been loosened and he is the lightest touch away from falling to pieces. Nevertheless, he complies, bracing himself on his elbows as he awaits further instruction.

“You’ve been insolent,” Father Armand comments as he slowly comes to stand behind Daniel. He runs the fingertips of one gloved hand over the swell of the boy’s ass. “Don’t you think you deserve to be disciplined for that?”

And Daniel is still beyond the point of language, so all he can manage is a thin, reedy little moan. Internally, he is only capable of thinking the word please on a recursive loop.

There’s a rush of air, then, followed by the sharp sting of Father Armand’s leather-covered palm striking one cheek. Daniel sucks in a harsh breath, an involuntary inhalation somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp. He gets almost no break before he is being hit again, then again, over and over until he can feel the blood rising to the skin from the burst capillaries. Almost as if from another room, he can hear himself crying out. Although the soles of his feet are rooted to the church carpet, he feels as though his consciousness has abandoned his body to wander elsewhere. The pain is practically transcendent in its savage persistence, the only thing anchoring him to this material plane the rhythmic pulse of the blood rushing to his cock.

Father Armand is relentless, and Daniel wonders whether he is going to be punished past the point where he can no longer withstand it. Until suddenly, the abuse stops, and the priest instead permits his cool fingers to trace over the damaged skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, laced with a fragile sort of reverence; Daniel can hear the rustling of fabric as the priest crouches down, as if seeking out a better angle from which to admire his own handiwork.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, spreading Daniel’s ass open, the word ghosting feather-light over the sensitive flesh. Daniel whines, restless with the effort of keeping himself still against the overwhelming urge to arch into the contact. “What a beautiful little thing you are.”

The praise wrenches a strangled cry from Daniel’s throat, wanton and depraved. He wishes he still possessed the ability to speak, wishes he could beg for Father Armand to please, please fuck him now. Beg the priest to make him full, to try and satisfy the yearning cavern inside of him.

He’d do anything to not be so fucking hungry.

The priest laughs as though he knows precisely what Daniel is thinking and then, with no warning, he is blowing a teasing breath over Daniel’s hole.

The boy nearly screams, his mind still running on the frantic hamster wheel of please, please, please, please, please—

Father Armand interrupts that train of thought by dragging the flat of his tongue over the skin that his breath just kissed, carefully unraveling what little remains of Daniel’s sentience until all that is left in its place is a moaning, bestial creature. A thing composed entirely of impulse, the only thing he understands at this point being what it means to want.

Instinctively, Daniel tries to grind back into the sensation, but the priest does not allow it, his leather-clad hold on Daniel wrought in immovable iron. At the denial, Daniel merely whimpers, no longer able to beg with anything other than his body and sincerely running the risk of going mad with need.

Patience, Daniel, he hears Father Armand admonish, as if from a stereo system inside of his head while the priest licks over him once more. He doesn’t even question it, really, content to assume that the universe is fracturing around him and that reality itself is simply splintering. It certainly feels that way, with how Father Armand’s tongue writes filthy love poems into his skin, with how he fucks into Daniel just enough to torture.

It is not unlike he is drowning, stranded in the middle of a vast ocean and being pulled under by the grasping appendages of the monsters below. He is overcome with a pleasure too fathomless to name, one that threatens to steal the air from his lungs and fill them with something more volatile and fluid. It’s exquisite. He needs it to stop. He never wants it to stop.

Again, Daniel hears the priest’s voice inside of his mind. So very needy, aren’t you? Filled to the brim with unrealized desire, aching for anything that might scratch the persistent itch deep within you.

The words seem to strip him bare, to peel back his skin and the viscera that holds him together until all of his nerves are exposed to Father Armand’s touch. At this point, he is cognizant only of the places where the two of them connect, the world zeroed in like a pinhole on the press of the priest’s tongue against his ass. He has no self outside of this point of contact, he thinks, and he doesn’t care at all. Can’t imagine caring about anything else ever again.

He keens, his hips attempting to roll back once more. This time, Father Armand lets him, allows Daniel to ride his tongue in the way he so desperately craves, and he gasps with the relief of it, his face buried in the crook of his arm as he thrusts backwards to where the priest’s mouth is waiting for him.

Then, one of Father Armand’s hands snakes around to grip Daniel in his fist, and it only takes a few strokes before the feeling of it swells into a feverish crescendo, before Daniel is twitching and spilling messily over the priest’s fingers.

Good boy, Father Armand says, tongue still deep in Daniel’s ass as he works him through the spasming aftershocks. Now, I need you to do something for me.

Daniel slumps onto the table, barely able to hold himself up, and nods limply. Anything. He’d do anything.

Stay still, Daniel.

Father Armand’s mouth moves to lavish a hot, wet kiss to where Daniel’s pulse pounds in his thigh, his teeth scraping delicately over the skin there. Then, there is the sensation of ice piercing his arteries, of numb and cold and bad and wrong.

The world begins to grow dim around the edges. The last thing Daniel remembers thinking before it all goes dark is, Please don’t kill me.

***

When Daniel awakens in his apartment the next morning, he has a bruise on his butt the size of an apple, a killer headache, and a voicemail on his answering machine:

Hey Daniel, this is Sandra. I was wondering why you missed your first N.A. meeting last night; Father Reynolds said you didn’t show. If you need help getting to them, let me know and I’ll help you work something out. Either way, try not to let it happen again, okay?

As he listens to his P.O.—who is apparently not named Sarah—speak, a lot of conflicting thoughts occur to him at once. Most of them are confused, disoriented, wondering what the fuck happened last night and who the fuck Father Armand really was.

But perhaps the loudest of all of them is the realization that that part of him that is so constantly reaching, so constantly starving, is finally contented.

For the first time he can remember, he is satisfied.

[justabigassnerd]

New Relationships

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 13.2K

Warnings - angst, arguing, swearing, fluff

Summary - you meet someone new, and while at first you don't get on... you soon change your tune

A/N - it's time for the return of Hangman Junior y'all! it's certainly been a long time coming and it's been so fun getting back into this universe! I do apologise if this fic isn't great I was trying my best lol. but I hope y'all enjoy (and don't worry I'm planning a follow up fic that'll go more into the stuff that happened at the end). as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Growing up, Javy had always been a staple in your life. He was your dad’s best friend and he had played a huge part in your upbringing. You had even regularly spent nights at Javy’s house when your dad was away. With all the time you had spent with Javy, you thought you knew him better than most.

But you didn’t know that he had concealed a secret no one other than Jake knew about.

One day while Bradley was up in the air, training some of the newest recruits that had joined Top Gun, Jake was lounging in the rec room, listening to all the conversations happening up in the air on the small radio. Javy had been in the room but had to step out of the room when his phone began to ring.

“You got this, Bradley,” Jake muttered with a small smile as he listened to his husband explaining what flight exercise he and the other recruits would be doing. Jake had loved seeing how much Bradley’s confidence had grown since the uranium mission. He had stopped hesitating so much up in the air and had truly become a fighter pilot others would fear when in a dogfight.

As Jake listens carefully to the radio, chuckling to himself when he hears the cocky remarks from the new trainees who reminded him of himself, Javy comes back into the rec room, visibly shaken as he moves to sit down, collapsing on the couch opposite Jake who is instantly concerned about his best friend.

“Whoa, Coyote, what’s up man?” Jake asks worriedly, now distracted from listening to the radio and giving his best friend his full attention.

“I just got a call from CPS. Iris has been caught drunk and high in her house. They’re removing Mateo from her care and wanting him to move in with me.” Javy explains, propping his elbows on his lap and burying his face in his hands as he lets out a sigh.

“She what?” Jake asks, eyes wide in shock as he processes what Javy has just said to him.

“Apparently some teachers at school were concerned about Mateo and called CPS to investigate the house and they found Iris high as a kite with some random guy in the house while Mateo was nowhere to be found and Iris sure as hell had no idea where he was.” Javy elaborates, dropping his hands and looking at Jake who softens in sympathy for his best friend, getting up from where he was sitting and moving to sit next to Javy.

“Well, he’s gotta come out here, right? He shouldn’t be shoved into the system.” Jake says as if it was the most obvious answer.

“I know. They’ve said they want to call again later to figure out when will be best for him to fly out here. I just don’t know how to tell anyone about this.” Javy says quietly as he glances over at Jake, his eyes displaying every ounce of emotion he is feeling.

Javy had never been as open about his private life. He told the Daggers bits and pieces but he had closely guarded secrets that only Jake knew about. The biggest one of those secrets is his son Mateo.

Mateo was not much younger than you, only a few months give or take. Javy had been in college and met a pretty girl at a party. The alcohol in his system definitely helped aid the decision he made to sleep with her that night. A couple of weeks down the line, Iris discovered that she was pregnant and both she and Javy had made the joint decision to keep and raise their baby together as they continued their college journey. By the time they graduated, Mateo had been born and was a couple of months old. Iris was well aware of Javy’s intentions to join the Naval Academy and train to become an aviator but just as he began his training, they had a huge argument which led to Iris moving away and taking Mateo with her. It broke Javy’s heart to watch her take his son and leave, so much so that he opted to keep Mateo’s entire existence a secret to hide his heartbreak from everyone around him. After meeting Jake and discovering that Jake had a daughter of his own, he found himself inclined to open up about his son but made sure that Jake promised to keep this information a secret. And true to his word, Jake kept it a secret, even from Bradley and from you.

Javy had always made attempts to visit Mateo as he grew up. Every Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday he’d travel to Utah in an attempt to spend some time with his son. Yet no matter how much he tried, Iris would refuse to let him spend a decent amount of time with Mateo, and he was never allowed to invite Mateo to spend time with him once he settled in Miramar. Javy just couldn’t make any sense of it. Half the time he was sure she didn’t care for their son but the moment Javy would mention visiting or paying for a flight so that Mateo could come to Miramar, she’d start claiming that she didn’t want her son to get hurt by Javy, seemingly ignoring the amount of effort Javy was willing to put in just for a short visit.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out together, okay? They already love y/n, so I can’t imagine any reason why they’d not love Mateo too.” Jake’s gentle voice shakes Javy from his thoughts, causing him to look over at Jake and offer him a soft smile.

“I don’t feel like I’m prepared for this,” Javy whispers, worry in his voice as Jake offers his friend a supportive smile moving to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing could prepare you for this, but I’m going to help. Go and tell Maverick you’ve had a family emergency and that you need to head home, he’ll understand. Then go home and check out your spare room, text me a list of things you think you’ll need for the room for when Mateo arrives. And while you call CPS to organise Mateo moving out here, I’ll run by the store and then meet you at your house.” Jake says, explaining his thought-out plan as Javy nods, inhaling sharply before standing up and moving to exit the room. Upon realising that Jake wasn’t following him, Javy turned to look over at Jake.

“Are you not coming?” He asks, confused as to why Jake wasn’t coming when he had made it clear that he intended to join him.

“I’ll come along later. Bradley’s awful at checking his phone at work so I need to tell him what I’m doing face to face otherwise he’ll damn near have an aneurysm when he realises I’m not around. Just make sure Maverick knows I’ll be leaving too.” Jake says with a chuckle, waving his hand to dismiss Javy who nods before rushing out of the rec room in search of Maverick.

When Bradley had landed, Jake had rushed out to meet him on the tarmac, with Bradley beaming as Jake approached.

“It’s not often my husband meets me out on the tarmac. What’s up?” Bradley says as the two reach each other.

“Coyote’s had a last-minute family emergency so I’ve offered to help him out. I just wanted to let you know before I went off to help. I don’t need you panicking when you can’t find me.” Jake explains, watching as Bradley’s smile fades slightly in worry.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, concerned about Javy.

“I’ll explain everything when we’re both home, okay? I promise.” Jake says, keeping a small smile on his face to try to keep Bradley from worrying too much about what could be happening.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” Bradley says with a sigh before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Jake’s lips to bid him a silent goodbye. After they break apart, Jake whispers a quiet goodbye before backing away and heading back into the building to gather up his things before heading out to his truck so he can head to the nearest store.

As Jake pulls into a parking spot, his phone buzzes with a message from Javy consisting of a list of things he needs Jake to buy in anticipation of Mateo’s arrival. As Jake enters the store, he begins to come up with a game plan to get in and out in as little time as possible so he can get back to Javy as quickly as possible. Jake went up and down each aisle, grabbing the things Javy needed, doing his best to pick things he thought a teenage boy would like. Jake picked up a couple of various plain coloured covers for the spare bed in Javy’s spare room, he grabbed some snacks he thought Mateo might like to try and make everything seem a little more homely. When Jake had finished shopping, he loaded all the bags into the backseats of his truck before getting behind the wheel and driving to Javy’s house.

Upon arriving at Javy’s house, he unloads the shopping and approaches the front door, knocking on the wooden door and waiting patiently for Javy to let him in.

“Thank you for doing this,” Javy says gratefully the moment he opens the door and sees Jake on the other side, stepping aside to allow him into the house.

“It’s no problem,” Jake says with a friendly smile as he follows Javy into the living room, both men unpacking the bags and sorting things while making quiet conversation.

“How much do I owe you?” Javy asks, reaching for the receipt he found at the bottom of one of the bags, stopping only when Jake snatches the piece of paper from the bag before Javy can reach it himself.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jake says, beginning to fold the receipt up and holding it away from Javy as he attempts to reach out for it.

“Come on, man. You just went to the store and spent however much money on stuff for my son when you didn’t have to. I owe you.” Javy says, letting out a frustrated huff when Jake continues to hold the receipt out of reach and eventually tucking it into his pocket to conceal it from Javy as he softens.

“You’ll never owe me anything. You’ve looked after y/n more times than I can count. The least I can do is help you organise everything for when Mateo arrives.” Jake says gently, a supportive smile on his face as Javy smiles back, overwhelmed with gratefulness towards his friend.

“We should probably take all this stuff upstairs and start setting up his room. I called CPS and they told me he’d be flying out within the next couple of days, they’re just in the process of getting flights and sorting out everything he wants to bring with him.” Javy explains as the two men begin to head upstairs with some of the newly bought items.

“Whenever he flies out, I’m more than happy to help however you want me to. Give me a call and I’ll be there.” Jake promises as they reach the spare room, entering the room as Javy smiles appreciatively.

“Thank you, Jake,” Javy says, as he approaches the bed both men beginning to strip the old bedding off and replace it with the new things Jake had bought.

“Maybe when Mateo arrives you can take him to Home Depot or something and do up this room with colours and decorations that he’d want. That might help him settle in a little better.” Jake suggests as he puts a new cover on one of the pillows, fluffing it as he goes.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll offer it to him as an option when he arrives. I’ve taken a few days off work to make sure everything’s ready and to help Mateo settle in.” Javy says as he unfolds the new bedspread.

“Good plan. Having one-on-one time with you will surely help him settle in.” Jake agrees, taking the other half of the bedspread and helping Javy make the bed.

“Obviously I have to enrol him at a high school, y/n’s school should take him, right?” Javy asks, looking over at Jake who nods.

“They’ll be considerate of your circumstances I’m sure. They’re pretty used to accepting new students during the year. I’ll vouch for you if needed.” Jake says, confident that your high school would accept Mateo with little to no questions asked. The two men continue to finish setting up the room, making sure it’s clean and tidy in anticipation of Mateo’s upcoming arrival.

“Hey, maybe we could have a get-together when Mateo’s settled? Maybe a barbeque on the beach or something so he can get to know the Daggers.” Javy proposes, receiving an enthusiastic nod from Jake.

“That sounds good. It’ll give him a chance to get to know y/n as well before he’s tossed into school. He can at least then know one person when he starts school.” Jake says in agreement, focusing on making sure everything looks neat. When they finished preparing the room, they headed downstairs and Jake helped Javy organise the newly bought snacks, arranging them neatly in a basket to act as a warm welcome. Once everything is prepared, Javy walks Jake to the front door, thanking him with a large hug.

“I have no idea how to thank you, Jake.” Javy mumbles as the two men embrace.

“You don’t need to. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count. It’s my turn to be there for you.” Jake says softly, pulling away from the hug and squeezing Javy’s shoulder slightly with a supportive smile before they both bid each other goodbye and Jake makes his way out to his truck to head home.

When Jake gets home, he unlocks the door and is greeted by an enthusiastic Moose who bounds around Jake’s feet, whining for attention until Jake begins to pet him. After Moose begins to quiet down, Jake hears footsteps approaching and looks up to see Bradley entering the hall. Jake hadn’t anticipated Bradley being home already but he also knew he hadn’t been keeping track of time while at Javy’s.

“Hey,” Jake says softly, skirting around Moose and approaching Bradley to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“Hey. How’s Coyote?” Bradley asks after pulling away from the kiss, immediately wanting to know what was up and whether Javy is okay.

“Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything. y/n’s out isn’t she?” Jake says, following Bradley into the living room with Moose on their heels, both men settling down on the couch as Moose hops up alongside them, laying his head in Jake’s lap.

“y/n said she was going to Lily’s house after school today, she won’t be back for a while I know she’s excited to see her again after so long,” Bradley confirms, remembering how you had told him that your friend Lily had been someone you knew when you were younger and had moved away from due to Jake’s job, as he focuses solely on Jake as he waits patiently for an explanation. As Jake talks, Bradley has his full attention on him, hanging on to his every word. He was shocked at the revelation that Javy had a son, but he could also understand why he had kept it a secret. After all, he’d kept his broken relationship with Maverick a secret from everyone when they all came back to Top Gun. Once Jake has finished talking, Bradley nods slightly in understanding.

“I get why Javy kept it a secret from everyone. And I’m more than willing to help out in any way I can when Mateo moves here. I’m sure y/n will be the same.” Bradley says, smiling supportively at Jake who nods.

“We’re trying to figure out when will be the best time to tell y/n. She’s known Javy all her life and this is a big piece of information to find out days away from Mateo’s arrival.” Jake explains, guilt written all over his face as he talks.

“Hey, she’ll understand. It might take a little while to come to terms with it but she’ll be there for Javy when it counts.” Bradley says reassuringly, reaching to squeeze Jake’s hand, both men smiling softly at the comfort of the contact.

By Friday afternoon, Mateo was due to fly to San Diego, Javy, Jake, and Bradley had come to the conclusion that it would be best that you knew about Mateo before he arrived so you’d have time to process the news.

“Dad, Uncle Javy is here!” You call through the house, after opening the door, smiling at Javy as Moose nudges the man, desperate for attention.

“Hey, Kit-Kat.” Javy greets, reaching out to ruffle your hair as you lightly grumble, swatting at his hand as he enters the house. Javy follows you into the living room where Jake and Bradley are just walking through the living room from the kitchen to meet Javy, all of the men smiling as they greet each other.

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Bradley says, gesturing towards the couch as you sit down on the couch, your dads sitting on either side of you while Javy opts to sit on the armchair.

“What did you guys need to talk about? It’s not bad is it?” You ask worriedly, eyes flicking between each man as if you could tell what they might talk about judging by their reactions.

“It’s not bad, promise,” Jake says softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his side to comfort you.

“Well, what is it then?” You ask, looking over at Javy who sighs lightly, resting his arms on his legs and squeezing his hands together as he prepares himself to speak.

“This might be a shock to hear but… I have a son.” Javy says quickly, looking up at you as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of what you just heard.

“What? Since when?” You ask, confused at the news.

“Since before I met your dad. We had Mateo while I was in my last year of college, and just as I was preparing to go to the Naval Academy, his mother and I got into a pretty nasty argument to the point she took Mateo and left. I tried my best to visit him on holidays or just whenever I could but let’s just say Iris wasn’t very welcoming. But long story short, Iris has been caught being an inappropriate guardian for Mateo and I’ve offered to be his guardian. He’s flying out here tomorrow.” Javy explains, studying your reaction carefully as you finally look at him.

“Why didn’t I know?” You ask quietly. Deep down you knew it was unreasonable to ask, but you had known Javy for so long that you were shocked that you had never known.

“How long have you two known?” You ask, turning on Jake and Bradley who exchange sad glances.

“I’ve known since Javy and I became friends. Bradley only found out a couple of days ago.” Jake explains softly, his heart breaking at the look on your face.

“So you said he’s flying out tomorrow?” You ask, steeling your expression and turning back to Javy who nods.

“Yeah, we were thinking on Sunday we’d have a barbeque or something on the beach as a welcome party so he could get to know everyone.” Javy then says, continuing to watch your reactions as you nod, your mood significantly dampened even as you try to hide it.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You say, a forced smile on your face as you nod before getting to your feet and heading up to your room with a quiet goodbye. The moment you’re out of the room, Javy’s head drops, a sigh escaping his lips.

“She hates me,” Javy says quietly, his heart hurting that he had upset you.

“She doesn’t hate you. It’s just a big piece of news to process. I bet you any money that by Sunday she’ll have come around. She just needs a little bit of time.” Jake assures Javy softly, both he and Bradley watching Javy carefully as he nods quietly.

“I should probably head home. Mateo flies in pretty early tomorrow and I want to make sure everything’s all ready for him. Some stuff has already been shipped over so I want to make sure things are organised.” Javy says, lifting his head and rising to his feet, Jake and Bradley mirroring his actions.

“Do you need any help with anything?” Bradley asks, watching Javy carefully as he shakes his head.

“No. Thank you, though. It’s just the last few things I need to sort out before tomorrow. Then we’ll meet up on Sunday, okay?” Javy says before he heads over to the door, both men following behind him.

“We’ll see you on Sunday. Give us a call if you need anything.” Jake says, both he and Bradley bidding Javy goodbye with friendly hugs, watching him make his way down the driveway and walk in the direction of his house with sad smiles on their faces, only hoping that you’d processed the news and be back to normal, and that you’d get on with Mateo when he arrived.

The next day, you decided to head down to the beach, wanting to take advantage of the sunny weather so you could spend time with Lily. You had been overjoyed when she walked into your classroom, indicating that she had moved to San Diego and after a catch-up, the two of you were acting like you’d never been apart.

“So, beach day?” Lily asks, getting in the passenger seat of your car, your Honda Fit had been fixed up after the rear ending accident and you were back to driving around like nothing had happened.

“Beach day.” You confirm with a smile, driving off from where you had parked just outside Lily’s house to pick her up.

“It’s definitely the perfect day to tan. Ooh, and I bet there will be some hot guys there too.” Lily grins, glancing over at you as you roll your eyes.

“Seriously? Is that all you care about? Boys?” You tease, your focus never shifting from the road as you drive, the journey to the beach one you had memorised quickly and easily.

“I mean it’s the weekend. Everyone will want to be at the beach over the weekend.” Lily then says, wiggling her eyebrows as you sigh with a laugh. When you find a place to park, you and Lily get out of your car, grab your beach gear and head down to the beach.

The two of you lounge on beach towels, chatting to each other, continuing to catch each other up on what you have missed in each other’s lives. You even dared to head into the ocean and splash around before heading to one of the nearby diners to have something to eat. After eating you and Lily head back outside to spend a couple more hours sunbathing before heading home.

When the two of you finally called it quits and decided to head home after spending a good few hours at the beach, you and Lily began to make your way back to your car, smiles on your faces as you talked.

“So, did you have a good time?” You query as the two of you near the small parking lot.

“The best. The beach is gorgeous, and there were loads of cute guys.” Lily gushes, clinging to your arm as you laugh.

“Glad you were impressed.” You say as you roll your eyes, already digging into your bag to grab your car keys.

“I’m easily impressed and that hasn’t changed, okay?” Lily giggles as the two of you round the corner to enter the parking lot a roar of a motorbike engine entering the parking lot, stopping dead in front of your car, making your jaw drop slightly when they don’t move, even when you make it obvious that you needed to get out.

“Hey, Asshat! I need to get out so you need to move.” You demand firmly as the biker turns their head to look at you lifting their hands to pull off their helmet.

“I’m sorry, Darling. Did you say something?” The mystery biker says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he places his helmet in front of him, resting his arms on it and leaning forward slightly.

“I did, Asshat. You’re parked right in front of my car and I need to get out. There are spots for motorbikes right over there.” You say firmly, glaring at the biker, studying him as he scoffs. He had dark skin, brown eyes, and short-cropped hair on the sides as the hair on top was beginning to grow out, the tight curls becoming obvious. You honestly might’ve found him attractive had he not been a massive asshole.

“It’s a free country is it not?” He then says, raising an eyebrow as he smirks at how easily you were getting riled up.

“Not when it comes to blocking me in. Just move your bike five feet to the right so I can get out. It’s hardly a big deal.” You say, exasperated by his attitude.

“I don’t know, Darling. I’m quite happy parking my bike here. If you were a good driver you could get around me.” He says, patting his helmet lightly, his smirk widening when he sees you huff. You then see Lily step forward to try to calm things down but you hold a hand up to stop her before focusing back on the guy in front of you.

“This is literally the quietest parking lot, find any spot that’s not you parking directly in front of my car and blocking me in.” You say, your frustration growing as he refuses to move.

“What’s in it for me?” He says teasingly, making you clench your jaw in an attempt to hold yourself back from punching him in the face.

“What’s in it for you? I won’t punch you in the face, how about that?” You offer, raising an eyebrow as you fold your arms across your chest.

“Threatening assault? Didn’t know you had that in you, Darling.” The biker grins, unfazed by your threats.

“Will you stop calling me that?” You say, your eyes narrowing as you glare at him, your anger continuing to bubble within you.

“What, you don’t like it when I call you Darling? I’m just trying to be nice.” He says with a light shrug, his clear mocking of you driving you more insane.

“Last chance, Asshat. Move the bike. We just want to leave, you can have the spot, or you can park where you are right now again. Frankly, I don’t care, just let us out.” You say, your patience wearing incredibly thin as you continue to glare, neither you nor the biker before you were willing to back down. Before another word could be spoken, you hear someone come up behind you.

“Is everything okay, here?” You hear someone ask, and you turn to see a middle-aged woman looking between you and the boy in front of you.

“Everything’s fine, thank you. This guy was just moving his bike out of the way so we could leave.” You say quickly before the guy has a chance to speak, grinning as you look over at him, challenging him to go against you now that there is a witness.

“If it pleases you, Darling. I’ll move the damn bike.” The guy says, eyes narrowed as he glares, his voice almost a spiteful hiss as he starts the engine of his bike up, putting his helmet on before roaring out of the parking lot, finally giving you the peace you had been craving.

“He wasn’t bothering you girls, was he?” The woman asks worriedly as you turn to face her.

“It was nothing we couldn’t handle.” You say with a laugh, waving your hand dismissively as the woman visibly relaxes at your words.

“Well, good on you. Take care of yourselves, girls.” The woman says softly, receiving a nod in response from both you and Lily before she turns to leave as you and Lily move to get into your car to head home.

“Man, he was such an ass.” You complain the moment your car door is closed, leaning back against your chair and letting out a sigh.

“Try not to let him get to you. You’re probably never going to see him again.” Lily offers softly, smiling as you nod, reaching to turn your key in the ignition.

“Good point. I’m not going to think about him any more.” You say, looking over at Lily with a smile, preparing to drive off.

However, despite your words. You had forgotten all about your promise to not think of him again.

“Hey, Sweetheart! How was the beach?” Jake asks with a large smile as you enter the living room, petting Moose who demands your attention.

“It was great until some asshat with a bike blocked me in and refused to move.” You say, already beginning to launch into a tangent about the events that had happened.

“He didn’t move?” Bradley asks, entering the living room from the kitchen, and handing Jake a coffee as he sits down with a drink of his own.

“Nope. I asked multiple times and he refused to move. He only moved when a woman showed up and asked if everything was okay. I think having an audience spooked him, but I’m not going to complain.” You say with a shrug, settling down on the armchair as Moose tries to force his way up onto the chair with you, ignoring your joking groans as he settles onto your lap.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him, anymore. You won’t see him again and you have other things you can focus on.” Jake says with a supportive smile as you nod.

“Lily said the same thing.” You agree with a smile.

“She’s a smart girl,” Bradley says with a smile.

“She always has been. I need to focus on tomorrow. We’re meeting Javy’s son, right?” You say, looking from Bradley to your dad as they both nod.

“That’s right. We’re having a get-together just outside the Hard Deck to welcome Mateo.” Jake confirms as you fight the urge to frown slightly.

“I owe Javy an apology for the way I reacted yesterday. That wasn’t fair on him.” You mumble, feeling embarrassed for the way you had acted.

“Hey, it was a big piece of news. Javy knows you weren’t being malicious in your reaction yesterday. Talk to him tomorrow and I’m sure the two of you will be fine.” Bradley then says, both he and Jake smiling softly as you nod.

“I agree with Bradley. You can talk to Javy and I’m sure the two of you will be back to normal in no time.” Jake agrees, getting nods from both you and Bradley.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow after I’ve met Mateo. I owe him an introduction since he’s new to town.” You say as you lean back against the armchair cushions, absentmindedly petting Moose.

“I can’t wait to meet Mateo. Him moving here means so much to Javy.” Jake says, thinking of all the times Javy had forlornly told him about Mateo and how he wanted to visit desperately.

“Well, if he’s anything like Javy. We’ll get along just fine.” You muse softly, exchanging soft smiles with your dads.

But when the next day came. You found yourself eating your previous words.

You, Jake, and Bradley arrived at the beach just outside the Hard Deck, jumping out of the truck with Moose alongside you and approaching where the Daggers had gathered outside.

“Do you see Javy?” You ask as you approach the group, searching for him so you can talk to him.

“He’s just over there, and that must be Mateo nearby,” Jake says, pointing out where Javy is before pointing at someone sitting at a nearby table with their back to you.

“I’m going to go and introduce myself.” You say with a smile, handing Moose’s leash to Jake and beginning to make your way across to where Mateo is sitting.

“Hey, you must be Mateo, I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself with a smile as Mateo turns to face you, your smile dropping the instant you realise that the guy sitting before you was the same biker from yesterday who had refused to move after blocking you in.

“I must admit I wasn’t expecting to see you around here again, Darling. I thought you’d be licking your wounds after you needed a grownup to fight your battle for you.” Mateo says snarkily, turning around to face you fully and leaning his back against the wooden table as he smirks.

“I didn’t need a grownup’s help, Asshat. I was doing perfectly fine without her.” You say angrily, silently wondering how someone as lovely as Javy had a son who acted like this.

“So you’re the daughter my dad kept raving about? Seems like his breath was wasted on your praises.” Mateo says, barely glancing over at Javy as he speaks before focusing back on you.

“You don’t know anything about me, Asshat.” You say, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare.

“I know you’re my dad’s best friend’s kid. You’re going to the same school I’m being forced to go to, and my dad practically kisses the ground you walk upon. Anyone would think you’re his kid with the way he talks about you.” Mateo says with a roll of his eyes, his frustration evident in his voice.

“I forget, those little bits of information ensure you know absolutely everything about me.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes in response as you fold your arms across your chest.

“I know more than you think, Darling. I’m not stupid, you know.” Mateo says, making you grit your teeth.

“You could’ve fooled me.” You say, your irritation reaching a breaking point. You then look around, locking eyes with Javy. You smile softly and take the opportunity to move away from Mateo to talk to Javy finally.

“Hey, Kit-Kat,” Javy says quietly as you approach him, his smile small yet genuine.

“Hey, Uncle Javy. I wanted to apologise for how I reacted the other day.” You say, fiddling with your fingers to try and calm yourself.

“You don’t need to apologise, y/n. I had kept a pretty big secret for a long time and it makes sense for you to need time to process the news.” Javy says with a gentle smile, reaching up to rest a hand on your shoulder, making your smile widen before you move to hug him an action Javy reciprocates in seconds.

“I do need to apologise. It wasn’t fair of me to act like I was entitled to that information. And I’m sorry for that.” You apologise as you hug Javy tightly.

“If anything I should apologise. I could see the way you and Mateo were interacting just a minute ago.” Javy mumbles embarrassed at his son's attitude that he had been on the receiving end of since Mateo arrived the day before.

“I thought he’d be a bit more like you in personality.” You admit with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I did too. Unfortunately, it seems he has a problem with me and no matter what I try, he won’t talk to me.” Javy admits softly, disappointed that Mateo won’t even give him the time of day.

“Maybe he needs some time. It’s been a big change for him and maybe he’s just lashing out because of it?” You offer as you pull away from the embrace slightly so you can look up at Javy.

“We’ll have to see,” Javy says softly, seemingly unconvinced by your words of support. Not knowing how to respond, you offer Javy one last hug before heading back over to Jake and Bradley.

“It looked like you and Mateo were getting into it. Is everything okay?” Jake asks the moment you reach their side.

“Turns out Mateo is the guy who blocked me in yesterday.” You say with a shrug, crouching down to pet Moose who greets you happily, tail swishing excitedly.

“That was Mateo?” Bradley asks, shocked as he looks across to where Mateo is sitting, unable to believe that Javy’s son would act in such a way.

“I think Javy needs someone to talk to, Dad. It seems Mateo is giving him some attitude and he might need someone to talk to about it.” You say, glancing over at Jake who nods, giving you Moose’s leash so he can cross to Javy.

“Hey, let’s hang out with the others, if Mateo doesn’t want to get involved then that’s his loss.” Bradley offers as you stand up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you to where Mickey and Bob are standing nearby, drinks in hand as they converse.

“Hey, Hangman Junior!” Mickey greets you happily with a hug which you reciprocate quickly before moving to hug Bob.

“Hey, Mickey. Hey Bob. Have you guys met Mateo yet?” You greet the two men, looking between them as they nod slowly.

“He’s a bit… different to what I was expecting,” Mickey says awkwardly, eyes flicking across to where Mateo was sitting before looking back at you.

“Phoenix and I tried to introduce ourselves to him but we got the cold shoulder. It seemed like you managed to have a conversation with him though.” Bob says before taking a sip from his water, watching you carefully.

“Oh, that? No, it turns out Mateo was the ass who blocked me in at the beach yesterday and he decided to keep picking a fight with me. I don’t think we’re going to get on at all. He’s nothing like Javy.” You explain, shaking your head as you tell the story, making sure the men know that you’re not going to get along with him like you had previously thought.

“We can agree with you there. He is nothing like Coyote.” Mickey agrees as both he and Bob nod, everyone glancing over at Mateo and watching him curiously for a moment before turning back to each other to continue your conversations.

By the end of the get-together, Mateo had ended up disappearing much to everyone’s shock. The only person who wasn’t panicked at the revelation was Javy, who had dealt with him disappearing the day before and just defeatedly told everyone to head home, apologising for the way Mateo had been acting and for wasting everyone’s day. You had given Javy a big hug after hearing him say that, feeling bad that his own son wasn’t putting in the same effort he was to forge a relationship.

“Hey, would you like to come to ours for dinner? We could order some takeout or something?” Jake offers his friend softly, fighting back a frown as Javy shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s best I stay at home in case Mateo comes back. He may not want much to do with me but I don’t want him locked outside without any keys.” Javy says, his smile sad as he attempts to wave you and your dads off.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us.” Bradley then says, reaching out to pat Javy’s shoulder lightly.

“Thank you,” Javy says softly before allowing you and your dads to make your way over to Jake’s truck so you can head home for the day. As your dad’s truck pulled away from the Hard Deck, all you could think about was how much Mateo was going to be a pain in your ass when he started at your school.

It turned out that your prediction had been correct, Mateo had joined your high school halfway through the week after the beach get-together and much to your dismay he had been put in most of your classes. You and Lily had tried your best to avoid him, and you constantly found yourself biting your tongue when he decided to bother you both during and in between classes.

“Hey, Darling. I thought I could feel a chill in the air.” Mateo teases from where he is leaning against a locker, a smirk on his lips as you glare at him.

“Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice, Asshat?” You say, not even stopping as you walk down the corridor, causing Mateo to push himself away from the locker and trail along behind you.

“I could ask you the same question. You’re the damn teacher's pet, not me.” Mateo says with a shrug as he continues to follow you.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t participate in class. I’d hate to have to prove you wrong in front of everyone.” You say, raising an eyebrow as you briefly glance his way, smirking to yourself.

“If that helps you sleep at night, Darling. You can think whatever you want.” Mateo says.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?” You say lowly, stopping short in your tracks so you can turn to face Mateo who mimics your actions.

“I thought you liked it,” Mateo says, a fake pout on his face to irritate you further before breaking out into a smile when he achieves his goal.

“We don’t even have the same class now, can you just leave me alone?” You say, your irritation quickly reaching its peak as you begin to walk away.

“You’re no fun,” Mateo says before walking off, not noticing how you roll your eyes at his words.

“Why does he constantly bother me?” You complain to Lily as she joins you from her class.

“It’s because you argue back. You’re giving him what he wants.” Lily says with a shrug, ignoring how you huff in annoyance.

“If he stopped bothering me I wouldn’t need to fight back. He could make life easier for the both of us if he just shut up.” You say, turning to head into your next class with Lily following behind you, hoping that Mateo will stop bothering you.

When lunchtime arrived, you entered the cafeteria with Lily, chatting with her as you discussed your plans for next weekend. After you had grabbed a tray, you surveyed the busy cafeteria, you noticed Mateo sitting by himself and felt your heart sink slightly. Despite your frustration and lack of friendship with Mateo, you found yourself sympathetic to the fact that he had clearly been spending his time alone without anyone to talk to. Walking away from Lily, you make your way across the cafeteria towards the table Mateo is sitting at, placing your tray down and easing down into your chair.

“What are you doing here?” Mateo asks as soon as he looks up and realises it was you sitting opposite him.

“I saw you were sat alone and I thought I’d-”

“You thought you’d play the sympathetic hero and sit with the new kid, huh? Well, I haven’t got time to deal with you trying to make yourself feel better.” Mateo snaps accusingly, glaring at you with a ferocity you hadn’t seen from him since you had spoken at the beach.

“I wasn’t doing that-”

“I know exactly what you’re doing. You don’t give a shit about me. You just want to make yourself look good in front of everyone else. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Mateo growls angrily, making you grow angry, grabbing your tray and raising from your seat.

“Fine, have it your way. You’re never going to make friends with that shitty attitude of yours.” You say angrily, unable to believe the attitude you were getting for a kind gesture.

“I don’t need friends. I’m fine on my own.” Mateo says as you begin to walk away, not able to see how you roll your eyes, finding Lily sitting with some other girls in your grade and joining them instead.

“Did you really just try and sit with Mateo?” Lily asks as you settle in the seat opposite her, beginning to dig into your food.

“I thought I’d try and be nice. I know if I were sitting alone I’d want someone to take the step to sit with me. Turns out he didn’t want anything to do with me.” You say in between mouthfuls, glancing around at the girls around you who watch you sympathetically.

“I heard Zack tried to sit with him on his first day and he got cursed out pretty quickly. It’s clear he’s a loner and doesn’t like people.” Marcy says, recalling what a boy had told her before and frowning. Unable to voice the thoughts you had regarding Mateo’s outbursts, you found yourself nodding along to Marcy’s theory, glancing over your shoulder to where Mateo was sitting, watching as he ate his meal alone.

Over the next few days, Mateo started to be less annoying towards you and more standoffish. He didn’t bother you in classes or in the corridor. He’d barely spare you a glance if you and your dads were over at his house to check in on him and Javy. You had longed for the day when Mateo stopped bothering you but now that he had stopped, you found yourself missing his presence, no matter how much you complained about it. You also longed to learn what his problem with you was, you admitted that you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot with him but you had made an effort at school and he had brushed you off. Javy had told you to not worry about it, since he had been treating everyone around him like that no matter how hard he tried to forge a relationship with his son.

One day after school, you had been promised by your dad that he’d pick you up after school since your car had gone in for a service so you found yourself waiting outside your high school, alone as more and more people began to disappear home. It wasn’t until nearly everyone had left that you realised that Mateo was still around.

“I thought you would’ve hopped on your little bike and ridden off home by now.” You say, barely sparing Mateo a glance as you notice him sidling up alongside you.

“I could say the same for you. You haven’t driven home to daddy, yet?” Mateo says teasingly, his snark matching yours with practised ease.

“My car’s being serviced, what’s your excuse, Asshat? Or have you decided to start bugging me again?” You retort, glaring over at him briefly before focusing back on the road ahead of you, hoping that by some miracle your dad’s truck will pull up in front of you.

“That dad of mine confiscated my bike keys. Damn asshole said I apparently can’t be trusted so he told me I have to wait to be picked up like I’m a kid.” Mateo complains, making you grit your teeth at his words, enraged that he could speak in such a way about Javy.

“He has every right to treat you that way because quite frankly you are acting like a child and it’s ridiculous.” You say firmly, checking the time on your phone one more time and sighing at the time. Coming to the assumption that your dad had forgotten to pick you up, you made the executive decision to begin to walk home with Mateo beginning to trail after you.

“Why are you following me?” You complain, quickly noticing that Mateo is following you along the path.

“I’m walking home I’m not following you. It’s just unfortunate that we live so close together so I’m stuck walking with you.” Mateo says, an almost offended tone to his voice at your accusation.

“Well, if you could keep your mouth shut that would be great and maybe I won’t kill you on the way home.” You say, your grip tightening on your bag as you continue to walk, hoping that Mateo will get the hint.

“Again with the threats but no follow through. You’re all bark and no bite aren’t you, Darling?” Mateo says with a whistle, raising an eyebrow as you scoff.

“I can fight back if I need to. I just won’t stoop to that if I can help it.” You say, your eyes focused on where you are going so you wouldn’t give Mateo the satisfaction of looking at him as you begin to head through the park, grateful that if you continue to argue, people won’t be around to witness it.

“You’re just trying to sound tough. We all know you’d hide behind your daddy at any confrontation.” Mateo says, enjoying how quickly he is getting under your skin as you stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“What exactly is your problem with me? I’ve tried to be nice and you keep pushing me away and acting like an asshole.” You ask, genuinely wanting an answer from him but not attempting to mask your anger in any way.

“It’s none of your business.” Mateo retorts, snapping quickly as you only grow angrier.

“It is my business. You have some sort of problem with me, and even more so, you have a problem with Javy who doesn’t deserve that treatment from you.” You say angrily, your voice raising.

“Of course, you’d defend him. You know, he was never around when I was younger. I was that kid who grew up with no dad and pretty much never had a mom either. You have no idea what it was like to go through that.” Mateo says angrily, taking a step closer to you as he talks.

“You’re not even giving him a chance. He’s really trying to make a bond with you. At least meet him halfway. You can hate me all you like but don’t hate Javy.” You say, fighting the urge to plead with the stubborn teen who stood before you.

“I never said I hated either of you,” Mateo said exasperated, running a hand through his short curls in his frustration.

“You’ve made it pretty clear that you hate everyone around you.” You say, not believing Mateo’s recently spoken words for a second.

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth. I never said that.” Mateo says, rolling his eyes.

“Then why are you acting like you do? I’ve heard Javy telling my dad about how you treat him and it’s ruining him. You truly cannot see a good thing even if it’s standing right in front of you.” You say bitterly.

“Fuck it,” Mateo whispers before launching towards you, capturing your lips with his, taking you by surprise. Once the shock had worn off, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands reaching up to pull him closer as Mateo pushed you back until your back met a tree. You continued to kiss until the need for air got too much and you forced yourself to pull away, both you and Mateo panting slightly as you gazed into each other’s eyes, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“What was that?” You ask quietly, unable to remove your gaze from Mateo’s eyes.

“Proof I never hated you,” Mateo responds, swallowing thickly as he awaits your reaction. You remain standing in place, unable to form any coherent thoughts as you stare at the boy standing before you.

“I don’t know what to say…” You force out, your brain scrambling to make sense of the thousands of thoughts swimming around in your head.

“You hated it.” Mateo mumbles, beginning to pull away from you but you act quicker, cupping his face and pulling his lips back to yours. Much like you previously, Mateo was soon kissing you back once the shock wore off, forcing you back against the tree once more. This time when you pull apart, you manage to muster a smile.

“I can’t believe we just did that. Twice.” You admit with a laugh, getting the courage to briefly brush your thumb over the apple of Mateo’s cheek before dropping your hands.

“So you didn’t hate it?” Mateo asks, a small attempt at a smile gracing his lips.

“Do you need me to kiss you again to get the answer through your head?” You ask with a light laugh.

“Maybe.” Mateo muses, placing his hands on your middle to pull you into a third kiss, this time you are both prepared and able to enjoy the moment.

“Did that give you your answer?” You tease with a smile as you pull away enough to speak, your lips barely brushing up against his.

“It sure does, Darling,” Mateo says, his smile growing. Seeing his natural smile, one that wasn’t forced or teasing, made you realise just how pretty Mateo was. He looked so much more himself when he smiled and you wanted to see that smile from him even more.

“So, you never really hated me?” You ask, your eyes searching Mateo’s for an answer, in response, Mateo takes your hand softly and leads you to a nearby bench, both of you easing yourself down onto it.

“I never hated you. I mean sure, I thought you were annoying the first time you met, but I also loved how you weren’t afraid to back down against me. Finding out you were the one my dad talked about hurt, I won’t lie. He spoke about you like you were the greatest gift to mankind.” Mateo finds himself uncharacteristically willing to open up to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t exactly make you feel welcome. I was just so angry that you spoke in such a way about Javy.” You apologise, watching Mateo as he shakes his head.

“I was so jealous of you. You knew my dad better than I do. You got your whole life with him around and I didn’t get to see him at all.” Mateo continues, having to look away from you to conceal the threatening building tears.

“It’s not too late to get to know him.” You offer, your voice soft as you reach out to take Mateo’s hand in your own, causing him to turn and look at you.

“I knew if I let myself fall for you I’d have a problem.” Mateo manages to say, a teary laugh escaping him.

“A problem? That’s a bold thing to say after three kisses. What problem?” You ask with a light roll of your eyes.

“You’re too soft for your own good, Darling. I knew if I fell for you I’d get soft too. I’ve worked so hard to protect myself my whole life that I never thought I’d fall for someone. Trust you to swoop in and mess up my plans.” Mateo admits, blinking furiously to try and rid himself of his tears.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting people in. It took my dad a long time to learn that one and now he’s happier than ever.” You say softly, squeezing Mateo’s hand as you talk to offer him support.

“It’s just… scary. I’ve relied on myself for so long.” Mateo admits, the embarrassment covering his features as he reveals something he’d kept hidden for his whole life.

“Well, let’s take it slow, shall we? There’s no rush.” You offer quietly, doing your best to sound confident for Mateo’s sake. Slightly comforted by your words, Mateo carefully moves his hand so that he was now holding yours.

You and Mateo then decide to sit together on the bench for a little while, both still trying to wrap your heads around the sudden large advancement you had made in your dynamic. Neither of you felt the need to talk, you opted to spend your time getting used to each others presence more. After spending twenty minutes together in the park, you both decide to continue to make your way home, knowing that if you stay out too long you’ll be on the receiving end of multiple worried texts from your dad.

As you approach your house, you find yourself slowing down to try and spend even more time with Mateo, something he picks up on almost instantly.

“You okay?” Mateo asks with a concern you hadn’t heard from him before.

“I’m fine. I just want to do this before we get to my house. Can’t risk my dad’s seeing this.” You say quickly, turning to face Mateo and before he can even question you, you pull him into another quick kiss, both of you smiling softly as you pull away.

“Keeping this a secret, huh Darling?” Mateo teases, raising an eyebrow as you nod.

“If that’s okay with you. Just for now.” You say, studying Mateo’s reaction carefully, relaxing slightly when he nods in understanding.

“That’s fine. I don’t really think I’m on good enough terms with my dad to open up to him about anything like this just yet.” Mateo says, his voice soft as he watches you softly.

“Maybe you could try talking to Javy? Not about this of course but about everything else. Maybe you two will be able to have a fresh start and create a bond?” You suggest, watching as Mateo nods, albeit hesitantly.

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises,” Mateo says as you offer him a small nod and smile before you whisper a quiet goodbye to Mateo which he returns before you go your separate ways.

You make your way into your house, noticing how your dad’s truck is still absent from the driveway and rolling your eyes. While you were glad you and Mateo were able to make something good out of being left behind, you couldn’t deny that it didn’t annoy you that your dad had forgotten to pick you up from school, especially after he promised he’d do so. When you enter the house, you’re greeted by Moose who excitedly whines in greeting as you reach down to pet him.

“Hey y/n/n. Where’s Jake?” Bradley makes his way into the hall to greet you with a hug, quickly noticing his husband’s absence.

“You tell me. He never showed up so I had to walk home.” You grumble, your mood now significantly soured as you remember that your dad had forgotten you entirely.

“He what?” Bradley asks, eyes widening in shock at the mere thought of Jake forgetting to pick you up from school.

“Yeah, his promise meant absolutely nothing to him, didn’t it?” You say, beginning to beeline for the stairs with Moose following along behind you as Bradley watches you sadly.

By the time Jake had come home, you and Bradley had sat down for dinner and the smile that Bradley had managed to bring onto your face vanished the second you noticed your dad’s presence.

“Hey guys, what’s on the menu?” Jake asks with a large smile, completely ignorant of your lack of acknowledgement as he enters the kitchen.

“I put a plate for you in the oven to keep warm,” Bradley says, glancing over his shoulder to watch Jake who nods, thanking Bradley as he opens the oven and removes the dish.

“Have you had a good day at school, y/n/n?” Jake then says after placing his plate on the table, and ruffling your hair, missing the way you scowled at him as you fixed your hair while he settled in his seat.

“It was fine.” You mumble, stabbing at your food without removing your gaze from your plate.

“Are you sure? You sound a little annoyed. Was it Mateo again?” Jake asks, watching you carefully.

“Jake.” Bradley attempts to interject before you speak up.

“No, it wasn’t Mateo.” You say quickly, finding yourself leaping to Mateo’s defence, much to Jake’s surprise.

“Then what’s bothering you? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Jake offers, his voice soft as he watches you.

“Can I say you? You’re bothering me right now.” You say firmly, finally lifting your gaze from your plate to glare at your dad whose eyes widen slightly at your snappy tone.

“y/n.” Bradley then says, sensing the rising tension and trying to calm everything before an argument kicks off.

“What do you mean by this? Where has this attitude come from?” Jake asks, his voice raising as he grows angry at your attitude.

“It doesn’t matter.” You say dismissively, returning your focus to your plate, fighting the urge to stab your food more aggressively than you had been previously.

“It does matter when you’re giving me an attitude. I’ve had a long day at work and the last thing I need is my kid giving me an unwarranted attitude.” Jake says, putting his cutlery down as he addresses you. His eyes narrow as he glares at you, ignoring how Moose whimpered and lay down from his position near the table.

“I don’t think the attitude is unwarranted. You promised me that you’d pick me up from school today. You know the walk is long and my car is in for a service. You let me down and you come waltzing in acting like nothing is wrong.” You say bitterly, now rapidly losing your appetite and so putting your cutlery down and pushing your chair back, getting to your feet and leaving the table so you could head to your room with Moose rushing after you. After hearing your footsteps grow quieter, Bradley turns to look at Jake who is now sitting with a shocked expression.

“You couldn’t just leave it could you?” Bradley says, a disappointed tone to his voice as he talks, lifting his fork to his mouth to take a bite.

“She could’ve texted me. I would’ve dropped everything to pick her up.” Jake says, annoyed that you’d snapped at him over something you could’ve resolved in a simple text.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Jake. You had promised her that you were going to be there. You were the one worrying about the walk home in the first place. But you decided that going to the beach was more important, huh?” Bradley mutters, his irritation obvious, revealing that he had checked Jake’s location as he gets up from his seat, picking up both his plate and yours before putting the plates in the dishwasher.

“That’s not fair, Bradley. Javy needed someone to talk to and I stepped up.” Jake says, watching as his husband shakes his head softly.

“But you couldn’t offer your daughter the decency to tell her that you wouldn’t be coming? Jake, if you couldn��t pick her up I’m sure she would’ve been fine with it if you had just told her. She could’ve gotten a ride with a friend or taken the bus if you had given her a heads-up.” Bradley says, understanding why Jake had been unable to pick you up but disappointed that he couldn’t even tell you that he wasn’t coming.

“Bradley...” Jake says, now unable to formulate a response.

“Whatever apology you want to say. I’m not the person you should be saying it to.” Bradley says with a shake of his head as he makes his way out to the living room, leaving Jake alone to think over his words.

While Jake mulls over the words spoken to him, you’re curled up in your bed with Moose by your side, snuggling close to you as you stroke him softly, appreciating the dog’s comfort. As you mindlessly watch a random show on your laptop, you find your eyes being drawn towards your phone. You longed to text Mateo, to ask him if he wanted to meet up with you so you could get out of the house just ot get your mind off everything. But you didn’t have his number and you doubted that any of your friends would have his number. With no way to contact Mateo, you debate sneaking out to see him, thinking about whether it would be worth being questioned by Javy if you showed up at his door. Eventually, as you conclude that it wouldn’t be worth sneaking out, knowing that Javy would’ve more than likely informed your dad about you showing up at his house, the door to your room opens and you look up to see Bradley sticking his head in.

“Hey, Kid. Are you okay?” Bradley asks quietly, his smile gentle as ever as he watches you.

“I’m fine.” You mumble, returning your attention to the laptop in front of you as Moose whines softly, sensing your mood.

“I know you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but, I am here if you need someone to talk to.” Bradley offers, not daring to cross the threshold into your room without permission.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but thank you, Bradley.” You say, lifting your head to look at Bradley with a small smile, making sure you let Bradley know that you were appreciative of his efforts.

“Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” Bradley says with a nod and a smile before leaving and closing the door behind him, allowing you to settle back into the pillow. Secretly, you did long to speak to someone, it’s just that Bradley wasn’t that someone right now.

By the time it grew dark and everyone was beginning to go to bed. Jake hadn’t made an effort to come to talk to you and in your stubbornness, you refused to be the one to give in so you remained in your room, listening with bated breath as Jake passed your room, hesitating for a brief second before continuing down the corridor to his bedroom. As you hear your dad walk away, you let out a small sigh of relief before curling up under your covers, closing your eyes and willing tomorrow to come faster.

The next morning, you managed to get up and out of the house without crossing paths with Jake, leaving you to walk once again to school since you weren’t scheduled to get your car back until the afternoon but after talking with Bradley, he had promised to swing by the garage to pick up your car, you had the confidence that he’d stick to his word and pick up your car before picking you up from school. By the time you arrived at school, you were searching for Mateo the moment you joined the crowds swarming the halls.

“Hey, Darling,” Mateo says as he sidles up alongside you, keeping his smile as suppressed as possible to avoid attracting attention.

“It’s good to see you.” You say softly, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him into a kiss.

“Getting soft on me already? Didn’t think it was possible.” Mateo teases, winking subtly as the two of you continue to make your way down the hall.

“Bring your ego back down to Earth I’m not getting soft.” You say with a roll of your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as Mateo smirks.

“You say that now but I give you a few days before you soften up,” Mateo says, nudging you with a smirk.

“Nah, it’ll be you going soft first.” You insist, laughing softly as you walk side-by-side. As you reach your homeroom, you take your seat next to Lily while Mateo takes his seat at the back of the class.

“Were you talking with Mateo?” Lily asks, shocked as you settle into your seat.

“He was just asking some questions about something.” You say with a shrug, trying to deflect her question as she watches you suspiciously.

“And you gave him the time of day? You never do that.” Lily asks, confused as you lean back in your chair.

“I’m making an effort to be nice. He’s Javy’s son and I can’t exactly get rid of him since my dad is literally his best friend.” You say, hoping your explanation is enough to get her to back off. Thankfully, she hesitantly nods and focuses back on the schoolwork she was hurriedly trying to finish before classes started.

As the day progresses, you and Mateo continue to interact as subtly as possible, exchanging small smiles across rooms, and when walking in the corridors, Mateo’s hand brushes up against yours, neither one of you making the jump to hold each other’s hand, desperate to maintain the secrecy of your relationship. You were aware of the side-eyed stares you were both getting from other people in the halls, but you didn’t let them bother you. At the back of your mind, you were still dwelling on the argument you had with your dad the evening before, still wondering how you had been forgotten about so easily, and it was obvious that Mateo had picked up on your mood and decided to question you about it over lunch.

“So, what’s got you all gloomy. You’ve been trying to smile all day and it’s not convincing anyone.” Mateo asks, fork in hand as he watches your reaction.

“I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You attempt to brush off his attempts to question you as you take a sip from your drink.

“You can lie to yourself but not to me, Darling. You think I don’t know what your real smile looks like? I’m an asshole, not stupid. So what’s up?” Mateo answers as if he was answering the easiest question in the world.

“Just a stupid argument I had with Dad last night.” You mumble, poking at your food with your fork, fighting the frown that threatened to tug on your lips.

“Dad’s are dicks, what’s new?” Mateo says, his lips turning up in a small smirk as you glare up at him.

“Not the time, Asshat.” You grumble as Mateo nods slightly, his eyes flicking down to his tray.

“Just trying to make a joke.” He mumbles.

“Dad and I don’t argue often. He forgot to pick me up yesterday and he couldn’t even send me a text to tell me why. He came waltzing in acting like nothing was wrong. It’s just not like him at all.” You say, your focus entirely on your plate as you talk, missing how Mateo rolled his eyes slightly at your words.

“My dad forgot me too. Shit happens, you know?” Mateo says as you glare up at him once more.

“Seriously? You asked what was bothering me and the moment I tell you, you make jokes?” You ask incredulously, shocked by his nonchalance.

“Look. I don’t have a relationship with my dad. You do. If you want to fix it, maybe you should take a page out of your own book and talk to him. You told me to try to talk things out with my old man. If you ask me, you just need to take your own advice.” Mateo replies, watching you as you pause briefly in your movement, looking back up at him with furrowed eyebrows. As you looked at him, Mateo shrugged lightly before continuing to eat his food and his words began to sink in slightly as you watched him.

“Mateo, I’m sorry.” You apologise, nearly missing how quickly Mateo looked at you, a look of slight shock on his face before he forced himself to smile.

“Don’t apologise,” Mateo says with a shake of his head as he focuses back on his food, continuing to eat as you continue to think over his words.

By the time the end of the day had come, you had carefully planned out an apology after thinking about how Mateo talked some sense into you. As you made your way out of the school with Lily by your side after bidding a secret goodbye to Mateo where you both finally exchanged numbers, you saw your car parked outside and assuming Bradley was the one driving it, you walked over with as smile that only faltered slightly when you opened the passenger side door and saw your dad inside instead.

“Hi, Dad.” You mumble quietly as you get into the passenger seat, shoving your backpack into the footwell in front of you.

“Hi, y/n/n,” Jake replies with a small smile, waiting for you to plug in your seatbelt before beginning the drive home.

“I thought Bradley was picking me up after grabbing the car.” You ask, trying to hide any potential attitude in your voice.

“I thought I should do it. I let you down yesterday and I should do something to make up for it.” Jake responds, his eyes fixed firmly on the road as he drives.

“I didn’t mean to get mad last night.” You begin, glancing over at your dad as you talk.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologise. I had promised I’d pick you up and I let you down. If anyone should be apologising here it should be me.” Jake says, looking over at you as he stops in front of a red light.

“I didn’t even stick around to hear if you had a reason for why you hadn’t picked me up.” You say, feeling bad about your treatment towards your dad.

“It’s okay, y/n. I owed you a text at the very least. Javy asked me if we could talk after work and I completely forgot about everything else, I just wanted to make sure Javy was okay.” Jake explains, feeling awful that he had so quickly dropped everything to help his best friend while forgetting about his daughter in the process.

“Is Javy okay?” You ask worriedly, your attention now shifted at the mention of Javy.

“He’s okay. I think Mateo has been giving him a bit of a hard time and he just wanted some support.” Jake explains and you find yourself focusing on the surroundings zipping by you instead of looking at your dad. You had suggested to Mateo that he attempt to form some kind of bond with Javy and you could only hope that you were able to get through to him.

“Sorry. I didn’t realise Javy was struggling. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologise once more, barely able to look over at your dad as he shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. It’s on me for letting you down. I think your anger was warranted.” Jake says with a small smile, briefly glancing over at you as you nod slightly.

“I’m still sorry. I hope Javy is doing okay.” You say softly as Jake turns the car down the road your house is on.

“I spoke to him at work today, he seemed happier. He told me Mateo made the effort to talk to him last night over dinner.” Jake says as you smile lightly, relieved to hear that Mateo has listened to what you said and tried talking to his dad. After Jake had parked on the driveway, you both get out of the car and before Jake could begin to head towards the front door, you round the car quickly and trap your dad in a hug, holding him tightly.

“I love you, Dad.” You say as Jake wraps his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, y/n. Are we good now?” Jake replies softly, pulling away slightly so he can look down at you.

“We’re good now.” You confirm with a smile, hugging your dad one last time before you pull away and head into the house where Bradley is standing in the hall with a smile and folded arms.

“Have you two finally made up now?” Bradley asks, quirking an eyebrow as the two of you nod lightly, smiles gracing all of your faces.

“We have,” Jake says, crossing to Bradley to press a soft kiss to his lips while you take your shoes off and excuse yourself to your room, claiming to want to do homework but all you wanted to do was text Mateo, leaving your dad’s downstairs.

Over time, your relationship with Mateo began to develop. You found it difficult, constantly having to sneak around when you were at school or around your parents. You had decided to make it known that you and Mateo were now on friendlier terms, but you had to keep your PDA on the down low and you often found yourselves having to go around to each other’s houses if you knew you had an empty house.

However, thinking you were alone ended up being the reason you both got caught.

“Hey, Darling.” Mateo greeted you at the door before you even got the chance to knock on the front door.

“Hey, Asshat.” You say teasingly barely stepping through the door before Mateo’s lips connect with yours, his hands reaching for your waist to pull you closer, slamming the door behind you the moment you cross the threshold.

You decided to forgo heading upstairs so you went into the living room, your lips barely pulling apart as the two of you strumbled through the house before you ended up on the couch. The two of you continued to make out, only pulling apart for brief seconds for air before reconnecting your lips, your arms wound around Mateo’s neck, attempting to pull him closer while Mateo’s hands tangled in your hair. The two of you were oblivious to the world around you, in your head it was just you and Mateo and nothing else mattered. What you didn’t acknowledge, was the sound of the keys in the door and the sound of the door opening.

“What the hell is going on here?” You both leap apart at the sound of Javy’s shocked voice, your eyes wide as you look over at him.

“I… we…” you start, glancing from Mateo to Javy and then back again.

“I mean is it not obvious? You do have eyes.” Mateo answers as if he were answering a simple question, leaning back against the couch, one arm lying along the back behind you as if he were waiting for an opportunity to hold you.

“I could do without the attitude, Mateo.” Javy exhales, his hand coming up to rub at his brow, already beginning to feel a headache forming.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Mateo says with a shrug.

“How long has this been going on?” Javy asks, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“A couple of weeks?” You reply, your answer coming more as a question as you sheepishly watch Javy who sighs.

“You know what? I’m not going to question you any more. I just wanted to come home and grab something. I’ll leave you alone. Just… be safe if you’re going to do anything.” Javy says pointing at the two of you as you feel your face heat up while Mateo rolls his eyes and Javy grabs what he had forgotten and makes his way towards the front door to make his exit.

As Javy exits the house and makes his way towards his car, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing a message to Jake.

‘Did you know our kids were dating?’

At the sound of his phone buzzing, Jake grabs his phone off the table, glancing up at Bradley apologetically before looking down at his phone, his eyebrows furrowing before he flipped his phone around to show Bradley.

“What the hell?”

taglist (comment or ask to be tagged):

@zbeez-outlet @kaceywithak @tsnelf7 @starkleila @cassadilasworld @shanimallina87 @madstxo @chaoticassidy @padsdarlg @lauraseresin @alohastitch0626 @angelbabyange @kmc1989

[darkmaga-returns]

MCNBC host Rachel Maddow has called on the U.S. military and American citizens to join forces and launch a coup d’état against the incoming Trump administration to prevent Trump from serving a second term.

Following Trump’s victory, Maddow urged citizens, U.S. military leaders and celebrities to break the law and do everything in their power to resist “authoritarian” Donald Trump.

Infowars.com reports: Speaking to Democrats feeling dismayed at the outcome of this week’s election, Maddow said, “History doesn’t end. Time doesn’t stop. Now we have the benefit of knowing how this has gone in every other country that has been through a democracy to authoritarian transition. And sadly, there are a lot of them. We have the benefit of seeing what’s happened in those other countries, though, and what we know is that the more ground the authoritarian takes, the harder it is to ever get that ground back.”

“And so the first order of business is to stop them from taking any uncontested ground right from the outset. When it comes to what our system of government is and what our democracy is, right, we know from other countries experiences that quickly– I mean now in the next few weeks if not the next few days –they are going to start pushing to see how far the country is going to let them go, without pushback, without protest.”

Next, the mainstream media anchor tried to mobilize Harris supporters, saying, “They’re counting on all those tens of millions of Americans to be despondent, to feel powerless, to check out, which, of course, would mean letting them do what they want, letting them run the table. What they really don’t want is for the half the country that voted against them– the half the country that wants to keep our democracy –what they really don’t want is for those tens of millions of Americans to wake up tomorrow feeling scrappy as hell.”

“Now we can work full time on being freaking pirates. On being a thorn in the side to anyone who now intends to try to turn this country into some pin pot tyranny. What they want, least of all, is to realize that half the country went to bed sad tonight, but then woke up tomorrow fired up with a new sense of purpose, knowing that, apparently, this is what we are on this earth to do with American citizens in this generation,” she added.

Maddow claimed protest “has to be done now” and “has to happen in sort of every aspect, every corner of our society.”

“The U.S. military needs to give the American people binding assurances that they will not deploy U.S. military force against the civilian population in this country. They can give those assurances, and now they should,” she stated.

“The free press needs to give the people of this country assurances that they will not become state TV,” the Democrat newswoman continued.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Once again, an imagined 3-paragraph-whatsit has grown into a little longer ficlet 😅😅...

Occasionally, Julian asks Palis what's going to happen to them when he graduates and leaves with Starfleet for the stars. Usually, she just laughs, asking "Why worry about the future, when what we have now is so good?", or jokes about how she'll have to make sure she ties him up securely enough to stop that happening.

So he tries not to think about it too much, and accepts that their relationship is one of those that's not going to last forever - which is fine, what they have is good, and he was lucky that Palis had ever chosen him in the first place. Their futures being different from each other doesn't lessen the love that they have for each other now.

And then, six months away from graduating, Paris proposes. And Julian accepts, because what else do you do when your beautiful, amazing girlfriend proposes, even if it is completely unexpected?

He does wonder what made her change her mind though - she's never shown any interest in leaving France before, or in a long-distance relationship - but he's learnt not to ask her these things directly over the years, and so for a few days he tiptoes round the subject, dropping hints and subtle questions which she dances around as gracefully as ever.

The following Friday, she invites their parents round for a celebratory meal. She doesn't like it when he's critical of his parents - it's disrespectful - so he grins and bears it and doesn't tell her he'd much rather just cuddle up with her and a film and a takeaway for the evening.

"Have you told him the news?" her father asks as they sit down for the meal. Her face lights up, and she turns to beam at Julian, reaching out for to grasp his hand.

"No, I left it for you," she replies.

And suddenly, Julian's being offered a job here in Paris. He could be Chief of Surgery in five years, apparently. Or, as Monsieur Delon -Henri - assures him, if he wanted to get deeper into research, then Saint-Antoine has very close links with univerisities all across Europe.

"I-I thought... You're not coming with me?" he asks Palis in a daze. She smiles at him brightly.

"Of course not! What would I do in space?" she laughs. "Jules, this is perfect - I know you'll be an incredible doctor, and now you don't have to leave me. I've been hoping it would work out, but I didn't want to tell you until dad had got it all sorted - isn't he the best?"

"What a wonderful opportunity!" Amsha gushes. "And here in Paris! You'll be grateful to have stayed so close to London, when you need us to help with our grandchildren."

It is a very good opportunity, and Julian should want it, shouldn't he - to have this life with Palis, to have family looking out for him, for Palis not to give up the job she loves...

His heart is racing. He feels sick.

"I'm sorry," he says faintly, standing up and bringing a hand to his stomach. "I, uh - cramps, you know? Excuse me."

He leaves the room quickly, hearing the scraping of a chair behind him - presumably Palis coming to find out what's really wrong.

She follows him through to their bedroom, glaring at him from the door as he sits down on the edge of their bed.

"That was rude," she snaps, "and don't tell me it was cramps. You had your period last week."

"I was trying not to be rude!" Julian tries to explain. "I know your father must have put in a lot of work to make this happen, I don't want to sound ungrateful or say the wrong thing—"

"Then just say yes!" Palis interrupts. "What is wrong with you? It's perfect, and here you are having a fucking panic attack about it!"

"I'm not— I..." There's a buzzing in his ears, and he trails off, reaching for something neutral. "I don't— I don't like surpises," he reminds her quietly.

To his relief, she softens, despite how pathetic he's being. Settling beside him, she starts rubbing firm circles into his back, grounding him, letting him bask in her touch.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry," she says. "Is that what all this is about? It being a surprise? Oh, Julian, if I'd known you didn't like them, I wouldn't have done it like this at all. You should have told me."

He leans into her, taking deep breaths and comfort in her familiar smell.

"I've just been so excited about this," Palis explains. "I hoped you would be too. And I know you don't want kids right now, but your mum's right, neither of us have had surgery yet, so one day..."

"'Course I'm excited," he tells her, not quite sure if he's lying. "It's just, it's all—"

"A lot, I know," she finishes for him. "I'm nervous too. It's a big decision."

He nods slowly. "Can I have some—"

"Water?" she asks. "I'll go get some for you."

He had been going to say 'time to think', but Palis is already off, and now he thinks about it, she was right - his throat is rather dry.

She returns, and he sips the water gratefully, tapping his fingers against the glass until Palis tells him to stop.

"Are you ready to go back in?" she asks. "Our parents will be getting hungry."

Julian thinks about telling her he isn't, but quickly dismisses it. That would be rude.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go, fiancée." That word, at least, is still exciting in its newness, and his mouth stumbles upon a smile before its even out of his mouth.

"I like that," she says, pulling him up form the bed and then into her. "You're mine now," she whispers in his ear, in a way that makes him really wish that their parents were not still waiting for them in the kitchen.

But they are, and although they seem to have already started on the food (Julian would bet anything that was Richard's idea), Julian and Palis can't hide in their bedroom forever. And there's still the small matter of accepting Henri's offer.

"Um, sorry about that," he says, sliding back into his seat. His mother's eyes are on him, and he looks away, knowing she's going to want to 'talk' to him later - she didn't buy his cramps excuse, either.

He turns to Palis' father, fixing his eyes on him for an excruciating few seconds. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me and Palis," he says. "It means a lot. I'd love to work with you, thank you."

His mouth has gone dry again, but Henri is standing up and holding out his hand, which means he wants Julian to shake it. In an effort he's quite proud of, Julian manages not to break eye contact until they've both sat down again. The chatter resumes, and as he reaches for his glass, he frowns at his hand, wondering why it's shaking.

Headcanon that Julian had a bunch of “relationships” as a teen with older people just to piss his parents off/to get away from them (because his gfs and bfs in their 20s would have their own place he could stay at...) and that he never really had a chance to learn what a healthy partnership looked like.

And then that Palis was emotionally abusive towards Julian, in a way that he never quite put his finger on...

And that his attraction towards Garak was in part due to the way that Garak felt dangerous to be around. Not because that was new or exciting or thrilling, but because it was familiar.

[tiger-moran]

How does this site even work, half the posts from blogs I'm following don't show on my dashboard any more under 'following'. Some of the posts from blogs that I follow and that I should therefore surely see under 'following' do however seem to randomly show up on the 'for you' tab alongside the countless other posts from blogs I don't follow and in most cases have no interest in.

what the fuck

[starry-bi-sky]

*grips Shen Qingqiu by the shoulders*

aren't you tired of being nice? Don't you want to crack under the pressure of the system and the robbed autonomy of being forced into a role you had no choice in but have to play anyways? don't you want to buckle under the realization that, to you, no matter what you do your life is going to end in a horrific death? Whether that be under Luo Binghe's hands or the System's?

Don't you want to realize that no matter all the good you have done and the lives you have changed and saved, you're still standing at the ledge of a cliff with a sword to your disciple's chest?

Shouldn't it be you at the edge instead? Balancing on the crumbling dirt's end of death on either side, and you can either walk into it or be forced?

don't you want to go apeshit?