#i have 30 hours in this game apparently…
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IVE DONE IT!!
#i have 30 hours in this game apparently…#hoping to platinum the rest of the dpa games as well!#except man of medan. bc i have no way to play online to get some trophies#anyway this is where i’ve been the last few days#little hope#bee speaks
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I finished wild arms yesterday! what a great game
#wild arms#wild arms 1#cecilia adlehyde#jack van burace#rudy roughnight#earth golem#art tag#i really really loved this one im so glad i finished it#its really fun and not overly long for a jrpg (about 30 hours)#also gets my seal of approval in that despite what all promotional material would have you believe cecilia is the main character#like its not even a question she just is. compounded by the fact that if you want to you can play as her the whole time#my biggest criticism would prob be that by the end of the game the party feels kind of unbalanced especially in boss fights#cecilia can do so much shit and the boys basically just do different kinds of big damage lol#cecilia can also do big damage but shes too busy healing and buffing and debuffing and all that#its not all that hard though so its not a huge deal just kind of funny#anyway i definitely want to play the rest of the series at some point. apparently theres an anime too?? exciting
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This was not worth it
#i did not have a single item in the original besides the catarina chest. this was on my 100 hour dude.#last left him off in the fucking spawn area in ng+8 or whatever#i played almost the whole fucking game.#had to kill curse rotted greatwood because i never transposed the moonlight greatsword. awful.#had to kill wheel skeletons in carthus for 5 minutes which could have been worse but it sucked.#had to go ALL THE WAY TO FUCKING ARCHDRAJON PEAK TO KILL HAVEL#AND GOOGLE HOW THE FUCM TO GET HIS ARMOR BECAUSE APPARENTLY YOU HAVE TO GO BACL TO FARRON KEEP AFTER#KILLED FUCKING ALDRICH WITH THE WORST RNG OF MY LIFE#anyway hi.#also died to dogs and curved sword dues in irithyll for like 30 minutes. ng+max is rough
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Webfishing is a very fun game.
@le-catman
@kerfuffle-truffle
#Is it obvious that I have coursework to finish#Who the hell puts 30 hours into a fishing game in a week#I do apparently
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#im gonna fucking kill myself im so fucking angry#i gotta go to work in like 30 minutes and im so fuckin pissed off at a video game#baldurs gate has gotten more auto saves since the game launched but you what doesnt fucking autosave?#the entire fucking gauntlet of shar apparently#i killed the orthon explored the whole fucking temple got all the way to the shadowfell and remembered i forgot the halsin shit#so i went back to do that#and lost that stupid fight and apparently at no point in that like entire hour and a half did anything save#and im too fucking stupid to save it on my own#so now i gotta redo everything#im so fucking pissed#cause the gauntlet of shar is actively my least favorite part of the game cause its boring and annoying and more importantly#this isnt the first fucking time ive had to do this#ive had game crashes and other fuckups that have made me redo that entire area#multiple times#youd think id fucking learn my god damn lesson but no#im so angry right now how am i supposed to go to work like this#wasted my fuckin morning#i hate video games
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why must videos need a thesis. is it not enough to simply learn about squirrels.
#buzzy#'if you dont state your thesis within the first 2 minutes' blah blah blah WHATEVER i love meandering thesisless vids#we dont need a Central Point beyond 'hey lets learn about squirrels'#'hey im gonna talk abouy my favorite video game for an hour my thesis is that its fun'#anyway i just learned about squirrels#the squirrels were trying to steal the woodpeckers acorn#also prarie dogs liek to eat salmon apparently#flying squirrels can glide up to 30 km per hour#and they have to stay moving all night during the winter to not freeze#they dont hybernate#they liek lichens apparently#its called 'going nuts tales from the squirrel world' and its on curiousity stream#yes i paid for the curiousity stream+nebula bundle fuck u
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playing dmc1 with my earbuds in (but on low volume bc they're being weird) while my roommate and her shitty bf argue. i feel like i'm recreating the very specific experience of some child of divorce out there
#how do i tell her she needs to break up with him immediately. posthaste.fuck it funny post over rant incoming tw emotional abuse i think#nyarla dni#(<- roomie and nyarla have met and i don't wanna air roomie's drama to ppl who know her w/o her consent. anon internet ppl only)#listen i'm normally for gentle advising and that's probably what i'll do since i don't want to stress her out but oh my fucking god what is#his problem. he's constantly putting her in these weird no-win situations where the only right answer is to never be upset or disagree or b#wrong on accident or be misunderstood by him and to tell him everything she's feeling so she's not 'playing mind games' but if she says wha#she's feeling he'll interrogate her and badger her with the same questions over and over again insisting she's unreasonable until she gives#in and says she's sorry with an attitude he likes. i fucking don't like him. and a lot of this is observations from today. the day after sh#GOT INTO A CAR ACCIDENT AND BROKE HER NECK. WHAT THE FUCK.#it's like he expects to be treated like a king on one of the worst days of her life and when she's upset he's like OH. OH I GET IT.#and lectures her on having attitude and taking things out on others when she's literally not even doing that. not to an extent that matters#anyway. like. there's more productive ways of dealing with that. where you don't treat them like a bad kid for getting overwhelmed#he has made her cry multiple times today. i have been around multiple arguments and fights and he's just genuinely. awful i hate him#hell the first argument i overheard *i* was in tears by the end (luckily they left soon after bc i had to run to the basement laundry#dungeon to bawl my eyes out because 1. i can't handle confrontation 2. i've never seen roomie cry and 3. she just seemed so hurt and tired)#anyway he just left again after a fight because. god this is so dumb. she told him to move while they were sleeping in the same twin bed#(remember she's in a neck brace) and he fucking. left the room for an HOUR bc he thought the only thing that could POSSIBLY mean (as he#insisted) was for him to get out of here and then when she was like oh hey i'm sorry i didn't mean it like that he decided to spend the nex#half hour of his short time on this earth chewing her out for not giving him a lengthy explanation while half-asleep as to like. why he#needed to move (she wanted to grab smth) and apparently he sat in the chair by her bed for like 10 mins before leaving so he probably saw#her fall back asleep. and then he got pissy when after he left she didn't pick up her phone when he was calling her? even though he knew sh#was asleep?? she didn't even know he was gone. fucking. i need to get him away from my roomie YESTERDAY#look. miscommunication happens. i'm not saying he's an asshole for wanting things said clearly. i am pro-saying what you mean.#but if every time your gf tells you what she means you make it into a 30 minute lecture (no matter how small the slight and w/o examining i#you're actually right or not) she's not gonna wanna fucking tell you if she doesn't think it's worth the argument. especially if you never#let her rest until she concedes. apology isn't enough. clarification isn't enough. she has to say how wrong she was and beg and GOD. UGHHH#and he's always on about how she hurts his feelings. a gust of wind could hurt his feelings. he's constantly berating her manipulating her#and then he's like >:( see that hurt my feelings you can't hurt ppl's feelings. you're disrespectful. HE"S THE WORST I FUCKING HATE HIM#look sometimes adversity reveals the truth of a person and this just amplified his shittiness so much. mr OH i slept in a HOSPITAL and it#was so bad... you can't be in a bad mood bc i've been doing the bare minimum and you need to prioritize MY feelings rn. also i won't leave
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so all you need to do right now is disappear.
HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!
no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.
i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍
okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.
while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.
isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…
isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!
i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.
all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.
once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).
also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!
i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.
#marshdoodles#isat#in stars and time#isat spoilers#also for full transparency. the sadness death redraw is effectively just a trace job. i’m not super happy with it because of thag#but i think i would be Killed if i tried to redo it. i dunno. maybe ill try to change it when i do sadnesses. maybe not.#besides that GOD im really happy with how these turned out#bigfrin was a last minute addition but i think he turned out fantastic#bonnie’s special attack isn’t my Favorite but i think it turned out pretty well considering the Struggle#gggod. trying to make a heavily foreshortened pose that still feels dynamic is really hard. how did id5 do this.#also don’t. worry about the Extra custom sprites that’re in there. i’m not planning anything.#happy isatversary everyone.#i blow away in the wind
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I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 07
🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna
Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 12 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear
MASTERLIST
If someone told you a few weeks ago that you would spend hours in the library, studying in comfortable silence with the resident hockey star, you would have laughed at them and told them they were crazy. But here you are, on a Wednesday afternoon, sitting across from Sukuna at a small table in the library, surrounded by your classic literature books and Sukuna's history books, studying together as if it is the most natural thing ever.
Sukuna bumped into you this morning, Grinning at you and telling you to meet him after class so you could have lunch together. And considering your little fuckbuddies arrangement and how close the two of you got through it, you found yourself raising a teasing eyebrow at him and asking in a flirty voice,
"And how do you know our classes end at the same time? Be honest, Sukuna. Are you following me around?"
And he smirked that equally teasing smirk at you,
"There's no need for that, princess. I don't need to stalk you like some fucking creep. I know we both have classes in this wing on Wednesdays, and I know both our classes end at 11:30. It's not following around. It's called having a brain. Also, I wouldn't be where I am in life if I didn't plan ahead. Remember this: I am always in control. I always plan things."
"So, what is your plan with me?"
A smug smirk spread over Sukuna's face, and he leaned down, cupping your chin,
"Take you to lunch and then to the library since I know we both have no classes after lunch, and I have to study history, and you have to study literature. So we are going to spend the afternoon sharing a table at the library."
With that, he had left for his class, making you stand there grinning and looking after him, gaze trailing down Sukuna's deliciously v-shaped body, from his broad shoulders down to his narrow hips and that firm ass in his tight black jeans.
And now you sit in the library across from him, and you have to admit that Sukuna is a surprisingly nice study partner. He is very focused on his work. You watch him from time to time, watch how completely immersed he is in the things he is researching. The way his tattooed face scrunches up at times and the way his lips twitch when he finds something that amuses him. You realize one thing: The popular star player is a little nerd when it comes to the things he's interested in. Be it hockey, working out, or history.
You feel low-key bad for assuming Sukuna was the typical dumb jock who only cares about his sports. The truth is, he is actually at the top of all his classes. And it's not just because Sukuna got lucky and has the brains to get top grades without having to study. While Sukuna is naturally smart, he isn't someone who relies only on his talents. The resident star player isn't lazy. He works hard for his success. On the ice and in his classes.
You know how often Sukuna goes to the gym to work out and that he gets up at ungodly hours each morning to go for a morning run, no matter how shitty the weather is. He also analyzes the games of his opponents and works out tactics to win against them. Always planning everything, always making sure he is a step ahead.
And apparently, Sukuna shows the same ambition and dedication when it comes to studying. He is sitting here in the library, surrounded by old books, making color-coded notes and even occasionally putting on a pair of reading glasses so he can decipher the small fonts in his books. Sukuna is organized, disciplined, and hardworking. He is intelligent and ambitious but also very passionate about the things he enjoys. Driven by the desire to be the best, but also truly devoted. It is something you respect. And it is also sexy as hell.
You smile to yourself as you look up from your book and watch Sukuna tapping a tattooed finger on a passage in his history book as if he fully agrees with what is being said there. You think that most people who see him on campus or on the ice don't know that Sukuna is an intelligent nerd hiding in the body of a dumb jock and behind the appearance of a bad boy who likes to pretend he doesn't give a fuck.
Maybe Sukuna is good at hiding his true nature from everyone else but not from you. Your smile grows bigger, realizing that you can read Sukuna like a book. Analyzing him is like analyzing the characters in the novels you read. And Sukuna is such a lovely, complex character. Maybe you should use him as your muse for the next short story you write?
Suddenly, maroon eyes look up from the book they were studying and instead look deeply into yours.
"What happened to studying, Miss? I know I'm more interesting than your books, but if you want to get a good grade for your assignment, you better look into one of those books before you instead of just staring at me."
Sukuna's smirk is downright rude with how smug it is, and you huff loudly, rolling your eyes, about to complain, but you get distracted by Sukuna placing a large lunch box in the middle of the table and opening it to reveal a delicious-looking homemade banana bread. Wordlessly, he pushes the box toward you, and you sigh softly and take a slice of the banana bread that tastes just as good as it looks.
Sukuna's eyes are on you as you chew, and when you tell him it tastes delicious, a small smile plays around his lips that looks so genuinely happy and proud that it makes your chest feel strangely warm.
It's Saturday, and you are where you always are now when the Tigers have a home game: In the hockey arena, watching Sukuna being the King of the Ice who is turning the whole arena into his personal throne room.
You can't help but bite your lip when you watch Sukuna skating/running over the ice with the puck securely under his control, eyes focused on the goal ahead, not letting anyone stop him, making the rival players who try to get in his way, drop to the floor after several brutal body checks from The King of Curses. He looks so cool when he slams his opponents into the boards, a smirk flashing behind his face cage, maroon eyes alight with that mad, happy glint he always gets when he is on a victory streak.
And those eyes find you in the stands again, locking the two of you in an intense gaze while you grin matching grins at each other. The whole arena is chanting Sukuna's name, but his eyes are only on you. The star player and his lucky charm.
It leaves you feeling light-headed, adrenaline sizzling through your veins not just because of the high-speed game and the loud, euphoric mood in the arena but also because of your little interaction with Sukuna.
You see images flash in your mind of you and him lying naked in his bed last night. The way Sukuna was on top of you, looking so gorgeous with his biceps flexed from bracing himself on the bed while fucking you in missionary, almost as if he was using it as a workout, doing pushups on top of you.
And you were admiring the sight and moaning softly while letting Sukuna fuck you with those lazy, slow strokes while he told you about the tactics he worked out for today's game. Until his thrusts became erratic, and instead of ice hockey tactics, all that came out of his mouth were those sexy low groans and raspy breaths.
After the game, you walk down the stairs that lead to the plexiglass surrounding the rink, already seeing Sukuna skate over with his helmet under his arm, running a large hand through his sweaty pink hair, a big proud grin on his face. You grin, too, as you stop in front of the plexiglass to congratulate him, and Sukuna winks at you,
"Thanks for the good luck, princess. See, I told you my new pre-game routine is great."
You feel your face become hot, knowing full well that you are the pre-game routine he's talking about. Or, more precisely: Sukuna fucking you as stress relief while rehearsing his tactics. But you cover up how flustered you are by laughing and winking at Sukuna, too,
"It's always a pleasure to help."
You spend more time over at Sukuna's dorm, and it's not all that awkward anymore when you walk out of his room and run into Yuuji.
Maybe it's because Yuuji is naturally someone who is really nice and makes you feel very at ease around him, or it is because spending so much time with Sukuna has made you become more shameless and more confident. Either way, you just smile and greet Yuuji when you see him sitting on the couch in the living area, controller in hand, playing Mario Kart. And he smiles his big sunshine smile and waves you over,
"Hey, do you wanna play a few rounds with me?"
You smile and nod, joining him on the couch and taking the second controller he hands you.
Maybe you should feel embarrassed because Yuuji's twin brother just fucked you doggy style on his bed a few minutes ago, making you sob into his pillow with how good the dick was, and you are pretty sure you still smell like sex, and Sukuna's cologne, but you cannot bring yourself to care. It's too comfortable here on the couch, and Yuuji is so welcoming and uncomplicated. Somehow, you like that Sukuna's brother treats you like this, as if you belong in this dorm, too. As if you are Sukuna's girl.
Your breath hitches at the thought, but you get over it a second later when a red turtle shell hits your kart and makes you scream loudly while Yuuji laughs.
Sukuna strolls past the couch, ruffling first his brother's and then your hair, making both of you complain and swat at his hand, but he just laughs that low laugh and casually strolls into the kitchen area.
Your gaze strays to Sukuna's tall, buff body for a few seconds. He is only wearing grey sweatpants, sitting so low that you can see the elastic band of his black boxer briefs. You are so distracted that you crash your kart into a fence, quickly scrambling to get back into the race.
"Hey, princess, you staying for dinner?"
You blink and gaze once again at the pink-haired boy in the open kitchen. Sukuna is grinning lazily at you, holding a pan and a spatula in his hands. You raise an eyebrow,
"Do you mean you are going to cook something?"
"Yeah, is that so surprising?"
"Well, yeah... I assumed you only eat your protein stuff and cooked chicken. I am not staying for that. I can eat a real meal at home."
"Oh, shut up. You will sit your pretty ass on my kitchen chair and eat the fucking food I cooked, and you will love it."
To your surprise, Sukuna can actually cook. Really well, too. You nod when he asks you if the princess would like a second helping. And you see the genuine, proud smile on his tattooed face when you praise his cooking skills. It's actually cute how happy Sukuna seems when he sees you enjoying the food he cooked.
And you have to admit to yourself that having dinner together with Sukuna and his brother makes you feel even more at ease spending time in their dorm outside of having sex with Sukuna.
The first time you tell Sukuna to come over to your dorm is on a Tuesday evening when you know Nobara has plans with Maki, which will keep her out of the apartment for several hours.
Sukuna 🏒👑: What are you doing tonight, princess?
You: Nothing, really. Wanna come over?
Sukuna 🏒👑: Bet. See you after my workout.
You aren't even nervous anymore at the prospect of the hockey star coming over. You just feel this very nice and excited buzz at the thought that in an hour, you will have sex with Sukuna.
It feels so natural. So uncomplicated. You just hop quickly into the shower and afterward don't even bother picking a nice outfit, but just slip into a random pair of fresh panties and socks and grab the comfiest clothing item you own, Sukuna's white hoodie.
When Sukuna knocks on your door twenty minutes later, you open the door, wearing only your panties and his hoodie, and smile up at him with a breathless chuckle.
"Hey, Kuna. How was your workout?"
But Sukuna doesn't reply but stops in the open doorway, staring at you with wide maroon eyes. You wonder if it was the nickname you unintentionally used that caused this reaction. It makes your lips lift in an even broader smile, your pulse sizzling with a strange kind of power. For the first time since you started to interact with Sukuna, you feel like you have the upper hand.
Sukuna's maroon eyes trail hungrily over your body. Over your naked legs and his white Tigers hoodie. A moment later, he is on you, banging the door shut behind him as he drops his sports bag and grabs your waist, picking you up and slamming you against the wall, silencing your surprised squeal with his lips in a hungry, demanding kiss, that makes your head spin.
You giggle into the kiss as your hand caresses Sukuna's neck, fingertips running over the short stubble of his undercut, and Sukuna makes that sexy noise in the back of his throat again, that little growl that makes your fingers grab his soft pink hair and pull him even closer, opening your mouth further to let him lick your tongue with those deep, sexy caresses.
Sukuna carries you to your bedroom, throwing you on your bed, where you land with a breathless chuckle that turns into a soft moan when Sukuna joins you on the bed, his large hands pulling your panties down impatiently while his soft lips trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down your legs.
Sukuna yanks off his shirt, followed by his sweatpants and boxer briefs, making you lick your lips when you see his gorgeous hard cock slap heavily against his firm abs. So hard for you, so ready to fuck you into bliss.
Your hands wander to the hem of the hoodie, but Sukuna shakes his head, maroon eyes boring deeply into yours,
"Leave it on."
And so your little fantasy that you had when you first got Sukuna's hoodie becomes real. You are on your bed, straddling Sukuna's lap, only wearing his hoodie and nothing else, your wet pussy rubbing over his hot hard cock, gasping anytime his thick mushroom head catches on your clit. And Sukuna is beneath you, cursing and groaning, his large hands slipping under the hoodie to hold your waist, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watches you.
"Yeah, princess, like that. Slick my cock up. Make it all wet and messy so I can fuck you real nice."
He flips you over after a while, pushing your thighs apart, revealing your pussy to his hungry gaze, moaning while he fists his cock and pumps it a few times while his thumb brushes over your clit, circling it slowly, making you whine loudly, babbling about how much you want his cock.
And Sukuna grabs your hips and pulls you towards him, pushing into you with a hard, deep thrust that makes both of you gasp loudly. He doesn't waste a second but humps against you, fucking you at a hard deep pace. You feel delirious when Sukuna's calloused hands trail over your legs, putting them on his shoulders, and you suddenly can feel him even deeper in you.
It draws a loud, shaky sob from your lips as you cling to Sukuna's arms, digging your nails into his bulging biceps as he fucks you with those deep strokes that make your legs dangle from his broad shoulders in rhythm with his hard thrusts.
The hoodie rides up during the hard fuck, and you see Sukuna looking down, watching his slicked-up cock push in and out of your creamy pussy, and it makes you clench around him, so turned on by his gaze.
Sukuna is so sexy, all buff muscles which flex with every roll of his hips, sweat glistening on his tattooed skin, low grunts falling from his lips as he fucks you so deep and so good, making you think you might be addicted to his dick.
You breathe out his name, "Kuna...", your hands squeezing his biceps as you get pushed into the mattress rhythmically, gasping anytime Sukuna's thick mushroom head caresses your g-spot, sending you closer and closer to the edge, each deep stroke making a fluttery sensation fill your belly.
You mewl loudly when you cum around Sukuna's cock, your heels digging into his broad, muscular back, your pussy tightening so much around him that he hisses loudly.
And Sukuna fucks you even harder, chasing his own orgasm. He yanks on the hoodie, pushing it up to reveal your tits to him, watching as they bounce wildly with how hard he is fucking you.
He pulls out just in time for his orgasm, letting his hot cum rain down on your tits and your belly, and your pulsing clit while a series of sexy low groans falls from his lips.
You look at Sukuna in awe. How he kneels between your legs, so sexy and big, his twitching cock still in his hand, his eyes wandering hungrily over your body with the hoodie pushed up to reveal your skin covered in Sukuna's thick milky seed. And you can't help but moan, feeling so sexy like this, so desired, tits covered in Sukuna's cum, pussy still pulsing hotly from the mind-boggling orgasm Sukuna fucked out of you.
You smile dazedly up at Sukuna, barely holding yourself back from telling him that you think his dick is your favorite thing in the world, and he grins down at you with that charming smirk,
"You look so fucking good in my hoodie. I should get you more team merch, princess."
Sukuna seems to feel at home at your dorm, too, much to Nobara's dismay. You watch with growing amusement how she and Sukuna interact with each other. Always just waiting to say something rude to the other while their eyes glow with devilish fun.
Sukuna shamelessly struts out of your room, only wearing his low-sitting grey sweatpants and no shirt, his neck adorned with your lipstick marks, and his broad back full of the scratches your fingernails left there. He strolls casually into your kitchen, yanking open the fridge and getting some milk as if he lives here.
You lean in your open door, wearing his hoodie, watching him with a dazed smile on your face while Nobara casts a scandalized look at Sukuna's bare chest and the milk carton he brings provocatively to his lips, drinking straight out of the carton before he smirks his typical rude smirk at your dormmate,
"Hey, Ginger. Got a problem?"
"Hey, Kirby. Yeah, I think you should wear a shirt, and I hope you know that you have to pay for that milk!"
Sukuna laughs and walks past her, the milk container firmly in his tattooed hand, tilting his head back to gulp down even more of the milk. And Nobara's eyes widen comically as she sees Sukuna's broad back with all the scratch marks your fingernails left on it.
"Are the two of you animals or what?"
But you see the grin tugging at her lips. This is exactly the type of stuff your dormmate enjoys, and you burst out laughing at her comment, which turns into a giddy squeal when Sukuna picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you back into your room while he smirks at Nobara holding up the milk container in his hand to wave mockingly with it, while his other hand sprawls over your ass.
"Thanks for the milk. Now I have the strength for another round. You better wear some headphones if the noise bothers you. I know we will be loud."
You whine his name, begging him to stop embarrassing you, but you can't stop the laughter from creeping into your voice. And Sukuna just gives your ass a squeeze and grins and cocks his head,
"You trying to shut me up, princess? There's a better way to do that. Give my mouth something other to do."
And his mouth is really busy doing something other a few minutes later when he has you on your bed with your thighs pushed apart by those strong tattooed hands while Sukuna kneels on the floor between your legs, his face buried between your thighs, his lips and tongue pampering your pussy while his nose pushes against your clit.
He's making out loudly with your pussy, leaving loud smacking kisses on your puffy clit, and writing his name on it with his tongue. And you gasp and whimper and tug on Sukuna's pink hair as your hips buck in helpless pleasure, every thought of your dormmate erased from your pleasure-clouded mind.
"I can't ice skate. I never tried it."
You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to be rendered speechless upon your little confession during lunch. His hand, which was about to bring his usual cooked chicken to his mouth, stops in midair, and he stares at you with wide eyes as if you told him you don't know how to read.
"How can you never have been ice skating? What the fuck, princess?"
You laugh and shrug,
"I don't know. My town didn't have an ice skating arena, and none of my friends ever went ice skating, so...."
"That's absolutely ridiculous and unacceptable."
"Why? I think a lot of people never..."
You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna interjects,
"I will teach you."
"What? Um, no, I... I am really unathletic and everything. I will probably be terrible at it."
"That's why you get me as your personal coach. You can learn from the best. Come to the arena at 7:00 tonight. I can teach you after training. Feel special. You'll get a private lesson from the Ice King."
Sukuna winks playfully at you, and even though you already feel your face get hot at the thought of how much you will probably embarrass yourself, you can't help but smile.
You enter the arena half an hour before your private lesson, sitting on the row directly behind the player's bench to watch the ice hockey team's practice while your pulse flutters more nervously with each passing minute. The ice looks intimidating. Hard and cold and unforgiving if you slip and fall.
When you look at Sukuna, who is currently speeding from one side of the rink to the next, it looks easy, of course. But you don't even want to think about how you will fare.
The coach claps his hands and announces the training is over, and the Tigers pile out of the rink, grabbing their stuff from the bench and leaving for the locker room without paying much notice to you. Yuuji and Todo pass you with big grins and reach out to high-five you, not even questioning why you are here during their practice.
And then Sukuna stops before you. Your heart jumps to your throat as you lift your head to look up at him.
He is so tall and broad in his hockey attire, with that smug smirk on his tattooed face. He extends a large hand to you, and you sigh and take it, letting him pull you to your feet, where you wobble immediately on the ice skates you are wearing. You gasp and tighten your hold on Sukuna's hand, clinging to him and exclaiming,
"Oh shit! Maybe we should call it a day. I will just make a fool of myself or break a leg or something!"
But Sukuna just laughs that amused, low laugh and his strong arm reaches around your waist, steadying you. He cocks his head and smirks at you,
"Come on, princess, do you really think I would let you fall? Haven't I already proved on our very first encounter that I am very good at catching you?"
His smirk grows even bigger, even more charming, and he winks at you, making your stomach feel a bit too fluttery, and you can't tell anymore if it is really just from the anxiety of standing on ice skates for the first time in your life, or if it has something to do with that boyish smirk on the star player's face.
But you feel safer now that Sukuna is holding you. Sukuna's grip on you is reassuringly strong as he slowly leads you toward the ice. He lets you hold on tightly to him without complaining, even as your nails dig painfully into his skin. His strong arm steadies you, keeping you safely on your feet.
You reach the ice, and your pulse flutters. Sukuna lets go of you after he makes sure you are holding onto the boards. He steps on the ice casually as if he is just walking on regular ground. It looks so natural when he does it.
And then Sukuna turns around to grin at you, extending his large hand again, letting you take it into your smaller hand,
"Come here, princess. I'll catch you."
Without further warning, Sukuna tugs on your hand, pulling you onto the ice. You register what is about to happen, and you start complaining nervously, but your feet are already taking a step forward. And then you are on the ice, screeching embarrassingly loud when you feel your feet slip away from under you.
But you never land on the cold ice. Instead, you get pulled forward and slam into Sukuna's tall, broad body. Your face presses lightly against his chest, feeling his firm muscles and the soft material of his hockey jersey, inhaling his fresh and sexy scent laced with a tiny hint of sweat from his earlier training session. It smells enticing and reassuring somehow.
Your hand that's holding Sukuna's is clinging to him in a death grip while the other is grabbing his jersey tightly. You tilt your head back to look up at Sukuna's face, seeing his broad, amused smirk that immediately makes you roll your eyes and huff,
"Stop being so smug! I told you this is my first time!"
But Sukuna just laughs softly, and his other hand lands on your hip, gently pushing you a little bit to the back so you have to stand without leaning on him.
"Don't worry. I'll teach you how to ice skate if it is the last thing I do. Look at you, already being able to stand on the ice all by yourself!"
"But I am not.."
You start to say when Sukuna lets go of you for a moment, and you stare at him with wide eyes as you realize you are standing on the ice. A strangled laugh escapes your lips, but then you become too aware of the slippery ice beneath your feet, and you feel yourself slipping,
But Sukuna is there before anything can happen. He laughs and scoops you up into his strong arms, holding you princess-style.
"Come on, princess. I'll let you get a taste of how it feels to be on the ice."
He begins to skate across the rink with you in his arms, carrying you easily as if you weigh nothing. You laugh and wrap your hands around Sukuna's neck, your stomach tingling from the way he is skating across the ice with those fast, confident moves.
Sukuna does one lap around the rink with you in his arms before he carefully sets you down again. But his large hands hold yours securely, making sure you won't fall. He looks deeply into your eyes with his maroon eyes, which are so warm in this cold ice palace. And his lips lift in a little smile,
"Wanna give it a try now, too, princess? I will show you how. I promise I won't let go of you."
Sukuna is smiling so charmingly at you, and his low voice is so calm and serious, his hold on you reassuring and secure, and you realize that you trust Sukuna fully. You trust this scary-looking bad boy not to let you fall. You smile at him and nod softly,
"Ok. Show me, please."
You know that Sukuna is usually infamous for being a menace who scares the shit out of his opponents. A real devil on the ice.
But not tonight. Not when he is ice skating with you.
Sukuna is an amazing teacher. He is patient with you, never getting annoyed at your clumsiness. Instead, his large hand is holding yours safely, and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist, steadying you. His low voice in your ear encourages you. Praising you for every little thing you do. And you can't stop a stupid little smile from spreading over your face as you slowly glide over the ice at Sukuna's side.
"Don't be so tense, princess. Just lean on me. I got you, don't be scared. I won't let you fall. Trust me."
And you do trust him. You let out a breath and relax in Sukuna's strong arms, letting him take control. Letting him pick up speed while guiding you safely across the cold ice.
Sukuna skates with you all the way through the arena. Just the two of you on the ice while the arena sits in darkness and only the rink is illuminated. It could almost be romantic. You feel safe on his arm, weightless as you glide over the ice. It's an incredible feeling as if you are soaring through the air. The ice glitters prettily like a million diamonds. And Sukuna's hand on the small of your back radiates warmth even through your jacket.
You feel so safe in Sukuna's arms. And it's actually fun to skate across the ice, to feel the chilly air on your heated cheeks, to hear your own delighted laughter mingle with Sukuna's.
You are a bit out of breath when Sukuna digs the blades of his ice skates into the ice, bringing the two of you to a stop in front of the benches, grinning at you with such a genuinely happy expression on his tattooed face that it makes your heart clench and reach up to cup his cheek.
"Thank you, Kuna. That was really fun."
You gaze into each other's eyes for a long moment. Time seems to stand still. And then you are suddenly kissing.
You can't tell who initiated it, whether you were the first who let herself fall against Sukuna to get on your tiptoes to reach his lips or whether it was him who tightened his hold around your smaller body and pulled you against him. But suddenly, your lips are moving against each other in a slow, gentle kiss.
A kiss that doesn't lead to sex. A kiss that isn't born out of the heated desire to rip each other's clothes off. A slow, tender kiss that makes your head turn to mush and makes butterflies dance in your stomach when Sukuna pulls you even closer against his firm, tall body.
When you pull away, you open your eyes and look up at Sukuna, right when he opens his eyes too. And for a moment, you are astounded because you have never seen those beautiful maroon eyes look so soft.
Sukuna laughs, a large hand cupping your cheek, and he asks if you want to do one last round across the rink. You nod dazedly, letting him gently pull you along, gliding once again over the glittering ice. Almost as if the two of you are the prince and princess in some fairytale, kissing on the ice, skating together into your happily ever after.
It's not like that, of course. You have to remind yourself this isn't a fairytale. You aren't a couple. But on this evening, for an hour in this dimly lit hockey arena, what the two of you have feels magical.
Is there LOVE in the air? The private ice skating lesson was one of the first scenes I wrote for this AU, and it still gives me so many butterflies aaaahhhhh 💗💗 I want this so bad with him!! I hope you enjoyed it, too!
Writing this story is truly such a comfort to me, and I am so happy to hear that it brings y'all joy, too. Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback and for getting on this journey with me 💗
I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.
In Chapter 8 Reader will struggle with her feelings ;)
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#sukuna fluff#sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna#jjk x y/n#jjk fluff#{🏒❤️} hockey au
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i wanna be your lover | joel miller
pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader
summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?
warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n
a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy, for proofreading this
main masterlist / ao3
from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.
Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.
“Do a little dance, make a little love,”
“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”
She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.
Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.
You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.
Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly – he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.
Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.
You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…
Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.
Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”
“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”
The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.
“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.
“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”
“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.
“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”
“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”
Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.
“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.
A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.
“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”
With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.
“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.
She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.
Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.
His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.
“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.
With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.
“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.
“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”
With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.
The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.
“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”
“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”
With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.
Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.
It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.
Instead, they fell on a man.
You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.
He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.
You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.
Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.
He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.
The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.
Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.
“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”
The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.
“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”
Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.
The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.
As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.
“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”
A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.
“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.
You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.
“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”
You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.
He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.
“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”
The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.
Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.
With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately.
“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.
“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.
“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.
Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.
“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.
“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.
“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.
“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.
“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.
You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”
He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.
“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.
“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.
You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.
“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”
You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”
“How about your name?” he suggested.
You turned back to look at him, really look at him.
Had Deborah set him up for this?
You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.
Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.
After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”
He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”
“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.
“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.
You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”
He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.
Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”
“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”
“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”
Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.
You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”
As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.
“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.
“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”
“A good one?” Joel wondered.
Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.
“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.
“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.
Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”
“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.
“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.
Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.
“I’m an actor,” he confessed.
You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.
“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.
He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.
“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.
The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.
You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.
“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”
“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.
“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.
“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.
As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.
“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.
“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.
Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”
You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”
“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.
“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”
He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.
“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.
He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”
Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.
Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all – you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.
With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.
“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.
“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.
He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.
“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.
“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.
“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”
“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”
Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”
“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.
“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.
Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.
“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.
“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.
“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.
“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”
You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.
Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.
You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.
“Why?”,
“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.
“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”
“Oof,” Joel frowned.
“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.
“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.
“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch.”
He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.
You gave him a skeptical nod.
“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.
An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.
“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.
“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Was it? Was it a problem for you?
The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.
With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.
“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”
“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”
And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.
Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.
“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.
He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.
Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.
When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.
“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”
The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”
“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!
“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.
“Just what, sweetheart?”,
“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.
“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.
Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”
“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.
You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.
Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.
“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”
In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl.
With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”
“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”
“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.
Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.
“I-I don’t know… it just is.”
A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.
“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”
“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.
“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”
He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”
“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”
You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.
“Why?” you said, a little flustered.
“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.
“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.
“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.
“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.
“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.
Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.
“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”
He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.
“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”
You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.
“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.
Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.
This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention.
Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.
As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.
You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.
“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”
“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”
You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.
“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.
Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).
“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.
“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.
Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”
His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”
You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.
Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.
“I’d like that.”
He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.
Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.
The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said.
“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.
“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.
“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.
“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.
“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.
“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.
Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.
“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”
You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.
Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.
It was Joel.
Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.
Why was he talking to you?
He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.
“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.
He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”
His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.
Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.
“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.
The next scene had you squirming in your seat.
With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.
Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.
With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.
“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”
He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.
“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.
Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.
“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”
You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.
Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.
You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.
With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.
Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.
The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.
Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.
Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”
The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.
“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”
With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.
Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”
The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn��t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.
As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.
“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.
He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”
“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.”
Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”
You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.
“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.
“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”
Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.
“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.
“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.
“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”
“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”
Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”
“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”
A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.
“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”
Bingo.
You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.
“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”
“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.
“I am–… what was your favorite part?”
He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.
“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.
“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.
“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.
“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.
“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”
“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”
Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.
“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.
“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”
“I can stroke more than your ego.”
Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”
Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling.
You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”
He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”
My sweet girl.
Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.
“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.
“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”
Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.
Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.
Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.
“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.
“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.
He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”
Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”
This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”
Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.
“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.
Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.
It was official: you’d left professional at the door.
Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.
“Joel? Can I ask you something?”
He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
“Can you turn off the light?”
“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”
You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”
He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”
Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.
Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.
“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.
Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”
“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.
“Come?”, he helped.
“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”
“Right…”
Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”
Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.
“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.
You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.
“Huh?”
“I– I don’t know… it’s silly.”
“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.
You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real.
“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.
Nodding your head, you hummed.
“Are you a virgin?”
His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.
“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.
Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”
“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.
“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.
“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”
With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.
“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.
“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”
“The latter,”
“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.
The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.
“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.
“It just… it hurt.”
You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”
Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?��
You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.
Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.
“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.
You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.
“Show me.”
His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.
“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.
He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”
He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.
You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”
Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.
“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”
You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,
“Good girl.”
You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.
“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”
You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.
“You’re so sweet, baby– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.
You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”
“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.
“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.
“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.
His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.
“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…
Your breath hitched in your throat.
“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.
He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.
“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”
Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you – his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.
“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”
You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.
“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”
“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.
Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.
“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.
Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.
“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.
“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.
A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.
“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.
“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”
Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.
“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.
With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.
Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.
“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”
With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.
“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”
Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.
You nodded, “Please.”
A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.
Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.
Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.
“Oh, fuck,”
Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.
“Joel,” you panted.
His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.
“Joel,” you panted again.
“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.
Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.
“Oh, god,”
You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.
With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.
Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.
He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.
“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.
“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.
“D-did you want to–”
You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.
“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.
“Are you sure? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.
“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”
“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.
“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.
With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.
Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.
“Mornin’,”
“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.
“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.
You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.
“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.
Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.
“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”
A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.
“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.
You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”
In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.
Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”
Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.
“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.
You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?
The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”
“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.
“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”
His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.
You nodded, and he sighed.
“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”
“I-I’m sorry Joel, I–” you started, but he cut you off,
“You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”
Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”
Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”
His words almost didn’t register.
“What?”
This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.
“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”
“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.
“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.
“Oh,”
“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”
His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.
Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.
You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.
With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.
“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.
“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.
“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.
Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.
You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.
“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.
“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.
He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”
“Shit,”
He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.
You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.
He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.
“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.
You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.
He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.
“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.
“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.
“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.
“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.
“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.
“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”
“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure.
Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.
“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.
Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.
He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.
“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.
“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”
His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.
“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”
“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.
You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.
“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”
“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.
“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.
His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.
“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.
You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.
“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”
i hope you liked this! part two -> here
© shellshocklove, 2023 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller one shot#joel miller fanfic#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#dom!joel miller#the last of us smut#tlou smut#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal#inexperienced!reader#70s AU
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Chapter 57 of human Bill Cipher is no longer the Mystery Shack's prisoner—but at what cost:
The execution of Bill Cipher.
Saturday, 6:30 a.m.
Ford hadn't slept well.
He'd elected to spend the night on his cot down in his study. Even though he had no proof and a solid metal barrier in his head, there was an irrational part of him that feared Bill might be able to read his mind and predict his plans if he was too close to him. He'd decided it was easier to just sleep somewhere "safe" than spend all night trying to argue his own brain out of its paranoia.
The safety hadn't been much of a comfort. Every time he opened his eyes, he was sure he could see the outline of the Quantum Destabilizer laying on the worktable across the room.
He gave up and got up for breakfast an hour after sunup.
When he exited the vending machine, the first thing he heard was muffled pop music and laughter from the living room. He pushed open the door; Bill and Mabel were up with the sun as well and had apparently elected to throw a spontaneous dance party. Mabel had set her boombox on the TV, was blasting the soundtrack from one of her cartoons—"Let's tag along, with Cinnamon, 'cause all you have to do is believe!"—and was unsuccessfully attempting to teach Bill a dance move.
"You have to do it like this," Mabel said, pointing at her legs, which were crossed at the knees with her left foot crossed over her right foot.
"That is what I'm doing." Bill's left foot was positioned straight in front of his right foot.
"No it's not! Look, you've got to move your left foot further to the right!"
Bill looked at his feet, looked at Mabel's dubiously, and looked back at his own; and then hesitantly scooted his left foot a few inches to the right.
"Yes," Mabel sighed. "That's step one, okay?"
"Okay."
"Now step two!" Mabel swung out her right foot and crossed it over her left ankle.
Bill swung out his right foot and placed it down directly in front of his left foot.
"Bill!"
"What!"
Mabel cracked up and leaned against Bill's side, hugging him, while he protested, "I'm doing the same thing you are! It looks exactly the same! Don't play mind games with me, Shooting Star."
Curious. Was this a second dimensional thing—did crossing his legs over each other not come naturally to Bill? But Ford had seen him cross his legs while seated plenty of times. Maybe it was only when he was trying to dance? Ford had been taking notes on Bill's body language in human form; maybe he should make a note of this—
Why bother? What value did the information have? When Bill would be gone forever in a few hours.
Bill had coaxed Mabel into giving up the dance lesson and switching to something more freeform, grabbing her hands and spinning around the room with her to a far goofier song with annoying sound effects. His gaze glanced over Ford, glanced away; and then he stopped and did a double take, almost throwing Mabel off-balance. "What's with the sour face?" he demanded, breathing heavily from exertion. "Hey, am I not allowed to dance now?" Mabel glanced back at Ford.
Ford just shook his head dismissively and hurried through the living room, heading to the kitchen. He had the unsettling feeing that Bill had seen more than he let on in Ford's face. He told himself, again, that Bill couldn't read his mind. Not like this, anyway.
####
6:35 a.m.
Ford was making breakfast when Dipper came downstairs. Dipper glanced into the living room, then lowered his eyes and hurried past without greeting Mabel. He couldn't meet Ford's eyes, either.
That was kind of how Ford felt, too. "Eggs and bacon?"
"Just eggs."
"Scrambled?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
He added a couple of eggs, and a couple more for Mabel.
"Good morning!" Stan's greeting made both Ford and Dipper flinch; it was far too boisterous for the somber room. It almost sounded forced. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Ford glanced toward the window. The sky was gray and overcast. "Eggs and bacon?"
"Yeap, thanks."
He added more to the skillet. "You're cheerful this morning."
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, a shade defensively. "Aren't you?"
Ford offered him a wan smile. "Of course."
Dipper just stared at the table, looking slightly sick to his stomach.
####
6:40 a.m.
The only ones who seemed to be in a genuinely good mood were Mabel and Bill, bounding into the kitchen, still breathing heavily from their exercise. Mabel moonwalked across the kitchen until she bumped backwards into a chair. She sat and flopped over the kitchen table, arms stretched out across the tabletop, and only sat up when Ford sat a plate in front of her. Bill looked at the filled chairs, the four Pines with their four plates of food, and the empty skillet, and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. "No, that's fine," he said, still catching his breath, "I didn't want breakfast anyway. Thanks for asking."
"Bill! Ask nicely," Mabel said.
"Please don't make me starve, while I watch you eat, because you've magically ensured I can't feed myself."
Mabel pushed her chair out to stand, but said, "I don't think that was nice."
But Ford sighed and stood first. "I'll deal with it." Maybe providing the death row inmate his last meal would help assuage Ford's misguided conscience. When Bill saw Ford get out the eggs and bacon again, he frowned and looked almost ready to say something; but he just shrugged moodily and looked away.
For a few minutes, an awkward silence reigned over the room as Ford cooked Bill's breakfast. Stan cleared his throat and said, "So, uh—hey, Mabel. What're you up to today?" As if he didn't know full well. Ford had told him last night why they'd scheduled Bill's execution for Saturday.
"Thanks for asking," Mabel said, like she'd been just waiting for someone to bring it up. "I'm going out with Candy and Grenda! Grenda's mom's picking me up at seven." No wonder she was up so early.
"At seven?" Stan repeated, checking his watch. "That's less than twenty minutes, isn't it?"
Mabel processed that. She looked out the window. It wasn't light yet; but then that was only because of the cloud cover. "Oh." She started shoveling eggs into her mouth.
"You're ditching me today?" Bill groaned in exaggerated irritation. "I don't believe it. I'll be bored out of my mind."
Mabel blew a raspberry. "You'll live!" (Ford winced.)
"At least leave me with the Color Critter tapes so I can entertain myself."
"No! We have to watch those together! Especially the two-parter, that's up next."
Bill let out the loudest, longest sigh. "Fine. Leave me to suffer."
"You big baby."
Ford offered Bill a plate of eggs and floppy bacon. Bill took it without saying anything; but he looked at his plate with three strips of bacon, Ford's as yet untouched plate with two, and his eye flicked to Ford's face. Ford's breath froze; for a moment his panicked mind was sure his pity offering had given him away.
But then Bill looked away with a deliberate air of indifference. He grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and started shoveling eggs in his mouth like he hadn't had a decent meal in days. (When had he last had a decent meal?)
As Ford sat again, Mabel asked, "Grunkle Ford! Do you want me to pick up one of Phrancisco's solo albums? He only went solo after you got stuck in space, right?"
He tried not to think about Mabel bringing him home a gift just to discover that he'd executed her friend while she was out. (Would she ever speak to him again after this?) "N—no thanks, Mabel, that's fine. You should buy something for yourself."
Bill groaned. "You two and your terrible taste in synth pop." He slurped down half a strip of bacon. "Hey, if he isn't getting anything, pick me up a CD by Mysterious Mo's Average Joes, would you? They should be in the rock section."
Mabel laughed. "Who? They're not gonna have that!"
"Why not! They were really popular. In the 1960s. For seven weeks. Any decent record store oughta have them."
(What kind of music did Bill like, Ford wondered desperately. He knew what songs Bill had referenced, he knew what songs Bill taunted him with—Bill's soundtrack was as carefully curated as his dreams were choreographed, designed to evoke a specific effect—but what did he like? It was too late for Ford to learn.)
"I'm not going to a record store," Mabel said. "I'm going to a Phrancisco concert."
"What?! Since when!"
"Since I won tickets like, two weeks ago! I told you!"
"No you didn't."
There was an unexpectedly vicious edge to Bill's voice that made Ford tense up. He met Stan's gaze; he'd clearly noticed it too.
"Oh," Mabel said. "Well. I'm going to a concert. That's what Candy and Grenda are coming over for."
"Huh." Bill leaned back against the counter, nibbling at his second strip of bacon. There was something darkly calculating in his eye as he stared at Mabel. "So that talentless hack is in town? Where's he playing? He can't be at the convention center, no way he could pull a crowd that size."
"He's not in Gravity Falls, he's in Portland."
"You're going all the way to Portland?!"
Mabel leaned slightly away from Bill. "Yeah?" She sounded wary now. Ford didn't blame her; he'd never seen Bill snap at her like this before.
"W—Pff!—It might have been nice to know earlier!"
Mabel shrugged helplessly. "Well... sorry! Now you know!"
"Fine." Bill sighed angrily. "You're going all the way to Portland for a show—so you're not getting back til, what, dinner time?"
Mabel sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Actuallyyy, we're staying in town overnight and coming back tomorrow."
"WHAT!"
"Yeah, it's a late show. And Grenda's mom has some kind of reward thingy at a hotel she wants to use—"
"And you DIDN'T ASK ME?!"
The entire room fell silent, staring at Bill. Dipper's gaze darted between Mabel and Bill, bewildered. Stan put a protective hand on Mabel's shoulder.
Face strangely neutral—controlled, Ford thought—Bill said, "I meant. You didn't... tell me?"
Stan growled, "Not an improvement, Cipher."
"Warn, didn't warn me."
With a chill Ford hadn't known she possessed, Mabel said, "Excuse me? Was I supposed to?" Ford didn't know a lot about adolescents, but he recognized that voice. That was the quiet rage of the teenage girl offended. That was the voice that got fruit punch poured in your hair.
Bill stammered, "I mean— That— Well—!" He paused, ate a large mouthful of eggs to give himself time to regroup, and said, "Through no fault of my own, I'm completely dependent on you for any kind of mental stimulation, kid. You don't think maybe a 'hey Bill, would it bother you if I'm gone all weekend' would be polite?"
"So what if it does bother you!" Mabel's outburst was so vehement that Bill flinched in surprise. "I'm just one kid, you're a—an ancient psychic ghost triangle thing! You can't depend on me for everything, that's insane, I don't even know how to be whatever you need! Do you think I'm gonna stay inside the shack all summer just because you want me to?!"
Bill's mouth worked uselessly for a few seconds, grappling for words. Voice strained, he said, "I mean... not 24/7, but..."
"Unbelievable." Mabel shoved her chair back. "I'm gonna pack. If you'll permit me, Mr. Bossy." She stormed from the room.
"Hey, hold on—!" Bill started to follow, but stopped in the doorway—glancing back over his shoulder, worriedly, as if searching for something—and looked directly at Ford, for just a moment. And then he was gone, stumbling up the stairs trying to catch up with Mabel.
Bill knew. Ford was sure of it. He could tell the future, even as a human, they were aware of that. He couldn't see very far, from what Ford could tell; but this was a strange, powerful weapon, perhaps its beam was visible from chronologically farther away. Or maybe Ford himself had betrayed it somehow—in his face, in his body language—he remembered the way Bill had stopped dancing to stare at his face. Or maybe it was just intuition. But whatever the case, Bill could tell something was coming.
He wasn't trying to get Mabel to stay because he was worried about getting bored; he knew she was probably the only thing that might shield him from execution.
He knew that if she was out of town, he'd be defenseless.
####
6:50 a.m.
Their voices rose until they were audible from downstairs: "—But two whole days is ridiculous—!"
"Ridiculous to WHO! Ridiculous to you?! If you think you can just—just—manipulate me into staying here forever—"
"Manipulate?! Oh, all right, is that what you think of me! You've got some nerve, Shooting Star—"
Ford looked at Stan. "We should—"
"Yeah."
They hurried upstairs, Dipper close behind.
"Wait—" Dipper caught Ford's coat and tugged him back before he reached the bedroom door. "Don't, we should let them work this out."
"Are you serious?"
Dipper lowered his voice. "She's... been under a lot of pressure because of Bill. She's been acting like it's her job to save him. Maybe it'd be good if she... sorta figures out..." He screwed up his face. "Okay, I just want her to start hating him again, is that so bad?"
Well. At least it was honest. "If he gets angry enough to hurt her—"
"Then she'll flip him on his head and break his arm. I'm really not worried about her safety, Bill's pathetic," Dipper said. "Really, really... really pathetic."
Stan said, "Yeah, she'll be fine, she's a baby tiger. And maybe this'll be good for her! She won't... you know. Miss him as much. Silver lining."
Ford was worried about how bad she'd feel once she learned the last conversation she ever had with Bill was a fight; but maybe Stan was right. If Bill had died the day after Ford had discovered his true plans for the portal, would Ford have regretted that their last conversation was a fight—or would he just have been relieved that Bill was gone? Ford hadn't regretted that fight a single day since then.
He hoped Mabel would feel the same about it.
####
7:00 a.m.
There were no sounds of violence through the bedroom door—just stomping and thudding as Mabel packed. And the argument, which only seemed to be getting worse, Bill's strident voice drowning out most other sounds: "—and on top of that, you won't even give me the stupid cartoon tapes so I can at LEAST entertain myself while you're gone?!"
"AaaAAARGH THAT'S ALL I'M GOOD FOR TO YOU, ISN'T IT? I'M JUST YOUR ENTERTAINMENT!"
"Well—! Well SO WHAT! Like YOU'D spend any time with ME if you didn't think I was fun! What ELSE am I to you if not just your FUN SUMMER FIX-IT PROJECT?!"
"I THOUGHT you were my FRIEND!"
All three eavesdroppers cringed.
"WELL! If you're gonna act like this just because I wondered what you're up to, maybe NOT!" (All three eavesdroppers cringed harder.) "What kind of fun are you good for, you wouldn't even be into burning a house down!"
"OH YEAH, WELL—YOU WOULDN'T EVEN BE INTO—into—n-NOT BURNING A HOUSE DOWN!"
"OHHH WOW, GREAT COMEBACK."
Shrilly, Mabel shouted, "SHUT UP!"
"All right," Stan muttered, "This is just getting petty, I'm breaking this up."
Dipper moved like he was considering getting in the way. "But Grunkle Stan—"
"I think we're way past the point of your sister hating that demon." Stan opened the door a crack. "Hey—!"
Bill and Mabel rounded on Stan, faces red, tears pricking at the corners of Mabel's eyes. They both shouted, "STAY OUT OF IT!"
Stan quickly shut the door. A sweater gently thudded against the other side. Stan said, "Maybe we oughta let 'em work it out."
"It isn't getting violent, is it?" Ford asked.
"Only verbally."
Ford hesitated; but then nodded uneasily.
####
7:05 a.m.
Mabel said, "Grenda's mom's outside, I'm LEAVING."
"FINE! GO! Who needs you?! I could DIE and you wouldn't care!" Bill's voice cracked on the word.
Ford was sure he knew.
"MAYBE I WOULDN'T!" (All three eavesdroppers cringed harder still. Ford hoped she wouldn't remember saying that tomorrow.) "Get out of my room!"
"No, YOU get out! I'm staying right here!"
"Fine!! Then you can just stay here all weekend!"
"FINE!"
"FINE!"
There was some final angry rustling and the zip of a backpack; and then Mabel was storming out of the bedroom. She slammed the door, rubbed her eyes, and glared at the guys.
They tried to look like they hadn't been listening.
"Leave him in there," Mabel snapped, pointing at the door. She was shaking with anger. "He's in TIME OUT."
Ford and Stan nodded. Dipper glanced nervously at the door, "Um..."
Mabel glared into his eyes.
Dipper raise his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine."
As Mabel stomped downstairs, Ford nudged Dipper and whispered, "It's fine. He won't be there very long."
The reassurance made Dipper look faintly sick. "Yeah."
####
7:07 a.m.
Candy and Grenda grinned as Mabel burst out of the shack, ran to the car, pulled open the back door, and slid in. Grenda cheered, "Mabel!"
"Are you ready to board the Party Bus?" Candy asked.
Grenda whispered loudly, "That's the new name of the car."
Instead of answering, Mabel slammed the door, fastened her seatbelt, and hugged her backpack to her chest.
Grenda and her mom turned around to stare at Mabel from the front seats. Grenda's mom asked, "Is everything alright, sweetie?"
"'M fine, Mrs. Grendinator," Mabel said, staring at her knees. "I just... fought with a friend this morning."
"Oh, honey..."
Voice shaking, Mabel said, "Can we just go? Please?" Her hands were trembling.
Mrs. Grendinator nodded. "Of course."
As they pulled around the Mystery Shack and toward the road, Mabel glanced toward the attic bedroom window; but no one looked back.
####
7:10 a.m.
Candy reached over to rub Mabel's upper arm. "Who did you fight with?"
Grenda asked, "Was it Pacifica?" Both of them had a lot of thoughts about Mabel's deal to help at Pacifica's alpaca ranch, which they were politely swallowing down until and unless Mabel and Pacifica had a falling out and it became acceptable to be mean about Pacifica again.
Mabel shook her head. "No, it's... You don't know him. The new guy staying at the shack."
Grenda and Candy exchanged a glance. They didn't know very much about the "new guy" at the shack, except that he was the reason they couldn't have sleepovers at Mabel's place this summer; but Mabel insisted he was actually really fun; but also she couldn't tell them his name or anything about him. They already didn't think too highly of this mysterious new guy.
Warily, Candy said, "The new guy who you said is like a cool big brother-slash-sister?"
Mabel winced. "I... don't remember saying that."
"You said that."
Grenda threw in, "Like three days ago! When we were jumping off Candy's roof and you said he could probably do all kinds of cool low gravity tricks if he was there! Remember?"
Mabel groaned and thudded her head against the window.
Grenda said, "He sounds like an uncool big jerk-slash-loser if he made you upset." Candy nodded emphatically.
Mabel didn't answer for a moment. "I used to think he was," she said. "Now I just... think he needs friendship. More than I can give him by myself."
It was a miserable grey morning as they got on the road.
####
7:25 a.m.
They'd left Gravity Falls, passed beneath the defunct railroad track, and were almost to the highway when the Triple Digit Truck Stop's lumberjack statue appeared between the trees. That was the place where the Pines and Bill had negotiated the terms of his captivity. Mabel and Bill had traded pancakes there.
Quickly, voice tight, Mabel said, "I forgot to use the bathroom at home. Can we pull over?"
"Sure, Mabel."
"Sorry."
Before Mrs. Grendinator had turned the car off, Mabel had already opened the car door and was sprinting for the truck stop's attached convenience store, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she went.
"Mabel, wait!" Candy unfastened her seatbelt as fast as she could and ran after her.
Mrs. Grendinator put her hand on Grenda's before she could get out of the car. "Who is this friend of Mabel's?"
"We don't know," Grenda said. "She won't say a lot about him. Candy and I think he's some kind of werewolf catboy they have to keep hidden from the public. You know what the Mystery Shack's like."
"Hmm." Mrs. Grendinator watched Mabel, lips pressed together in worry.
When Grenda caught up with Candy inside the convenience store, Candy pointed toward the restrooms. "Mabel went into the unisex restroom," she said ominously.
Grenda winced. The one restroom with a real door. It was the only one you could cry in with total privacy. "So it was a fight fight, huh?"
"We should grab her extra road trip snacks." Candy eyed an aisle filled with various forms of jerky.
Grenda nodded, "Definitely extra snacks."
####
7:35 a.m.
Candy and Grenda were admiring a souvenir plastic skull painted with a patriotic stars and stripes pattern when Mabel finally emerge from the restroom, face freshly washed, eyes scrubbed, looking significantly more cheerful. "Hey guys! Are we looking at cheap souvenirs?"
"Yeah, check out this cool skull!" Grenda said.
"And it has babies." Candy held up two miniature starred-and-striped skulls.
Grenda held out a plastic bag. "Hey—while you were busy, we got a bunch of snacks: Nyumalums, Gummy Koalas, Cheese Boodles..."
"Ooh!" Mabel rummaged through the bag. "And... plastic dinosaurs?"
"So we can make Mabel Juice at the hotel!"
"Aww, guys! That's—really thoughtful, thank you."
"Of course, any time," Grenda said.
Candy said, "We know you don't want to talk about your other friend, but... we want you to know you can if you ever want to."
"And if you don't, we're here for you anyway!"
Mabel gave them both a watery smile. Without a word, she pulled them into a tight hug.
They hugged her back; Grenda squeezed them both and lifted them into the air for a second.
Mabel said, "You're the two best friends I could ever ask for, you know that?" She pulled back, put her hands on their shoulders, and said, "I'm putting the whole thing at the shack out of my head! I'm not letting it ruin our trip to Portland! We're going to have fun and watch some old guy play a synthesizer!"
"Yes!" "LET'S GO!"
They left the convenience store together, chanting, "Syn-the-siz-er! Syn-the-siz-er! Syn-the-siz-er!"
####
7:50 a.m.
Dipper, Ford, and Stan had kicked aside Bill's sofa cushion bed and taken over the attic window seat so the could uneasily hover near the attic bedroom and listen for anything inside.
Bill was completely silent.
"Probably meditating or something," Stan said. "Spitefully meditating. I keep catching him meditating on the downstairs toilet. Usually in the middle of the night."
"I've seen him in the living room," Dipper said. He remembered coming downstairs when he was out of his body and catching Bill watching Dr. Calligraphy—the radiant golden aura that had surrounded Bill on all sides until Dipper broke his concentration.
Ford muttered, "As long as he isn't breaking anything."
The Quantum Destabilizer was a powerful weapon; its beam could be seen from miles away. Ford had never seen it at work fully unobstructed on Earth, but in the Nightmare Realm any missed shot had still been visible, a bright streak in the roiling dark, long after any other beam of light would have faded to invisibility.
At least Gravity Falls was in a valley, hidden from the rest of the world by mountains and trees; but it was an overcast day and only getting darker. They wanted to make sure Mabel was far out of visual range before they fired the quantum destabilizer.
They decided to execute Bill at noon.
It was a long wait.
####
11:55 a.m.
Ford went down to the gift shop; waited five minutes for the tourists to empty out as Soos escorted them into the museum for the noon tour; and slipped behind the vending machine. When he came back up with the Quantum Destabilizer's carrying case, Melody stared for a moment from the cash register, then quickly averted her gaze.
Mrs. Ramirez had been watching television in the living room since she'd finished breakfast around ten. As Ford passed through again, he paused awkwardly, fiddling with the strap of the destabilizer's carrying case. "Mrs. Ramirez," he said. "We're, ah... going to make a bit of noise upstairs. Just—don't worry when you hear it, it's all under control." She'd gone to bed before he'd given Soos the news and woken up after the shack had opened; he didn't know whether Soos had had a chance to tell her.
Mrs. Ramirez took in Ford's nervous expression, his stiff posture, and his mysterious black case, and quietly asked, "It is time?"
Ford nodded solemnly.
She merely nodded back, her expression placid and unreadable. "Okay," she said. "Before you go, please turn up the volume for me. The remote is missing."
"Of course." Ford knelt down to turn the volume knob. When she said it was high enough, it was almost twice as loud.
Dipper and Stan were both standing right outside the attic door when Ford came back upstairs. Dipper looked like he was about to be eaten alive by anxiety. He flinched when Ford put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't look away from the door.
Voice low, Stan asked Ford, "You sure you don't want me to do it? I know this isn't the first time you've shot at him, but it's, uh... it's a lot easier to shoot in self-defense than it is to execute a helpless prisoner."
Ford elected not to ask questions. "No, it should be me. I designed this weapon, I know how to handle it." He gave Stan a wan smile. "Besides—it's high time I shoot Bill without your head in the way."
Stan laughed wryly.
Dipper sat on the floor and put his head in his hands.
"Are you alright?" Ford knelt next to Dipper.
"Yeah." Dipper waved Ford off. "Just... didn't get much sleep. Little dizzy."
No stomach for murder. Ford had been preparing for this for over thirty years; Dipper hadn't. And that was a good thing. "You can go downstairs if you..."
"No no, I'm fine, I..." Dipper took a deep breath and lifted his head. "I'll face it."
Stan nodded. "Good man."
Ford should have made it an order—he could have told Dipper to keep Mrs. Ramirez company—but he just nodded.
He stood, took a deep breath, and gripped the door knob. Time to face it.
####
12:05 p.m.
The room was still; the only light came indirectly from the window. There was no sign of Bill.
Ford frowned.
Moving as quietly as he could, keeping his back to the wall, Ford crept around the perimeter of the room, checking the closet by the door, Dipper's bed, Mabel's bed.
On the nightstand by Mabel's bed was a disheveled stack of papers; Ford recognized them as her crayon drawings from yesterday's lesson. In the top picture, Mabel had drawn Bill in his true triangular form alongside a pink heart-shaped Flatworlder shooting magic rainbows and blue fire. "FIGHTING EVIL WITH RAINBOWS! (BILL'S ON PAROLE TO HELP.)"
He picked it up to study the pink Flatworlder—Mabel?—and saw another picture underneath: Bill floating in the sky, blue flames again hovering over his raised hands, staring out of the paper as if he could see Ford; beneath Bill, Mabel had written, "I BELIEVE IN YOU. YOU CAN CHANGE!"
Ford's stomach turned. He grabbed and stuffed the second drawing in his pocket—he couldn't stand to look at it—and turned away from the others, trying not to think of Mabel, trying not to think of Bill standing on top of the TV excitedly lecturing about two-dimensional genetics and driving to the moon.
It wasn't until then that he saw the sign.
A bent pink posterboard read "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" in Mabel's round handwriting. The I's were dotted with hearts and the rest of the poster was covered in stickers of triangle-shaped objects. It had been angrily, crookedly affixed to the ladder up to the loft over the bedroom with too much duct tape, half warning, half flimsy barrier.
When Ford backed up to the window to try to see further up onto the loft, he could just see Bill, laying on his side, hood up and shoulders hunched, back to the room. No wonder he was so quiet. His tantrum must have exhausted him—and he certainly hadn't gotten enough sleep over the past week; he'd climbed to the highest point he could find and went to sleep.
Ford could shoot Bill in the back without ever waking him.
He carefully unpeeled enough duct tape to bend the posterboard to the side, made sure the Quantum Destabilizer's strap was slung securely over his chest, and climbed as quietly as he could.
Bill lay curled up in a ball, as small as Ford had ever seen him, beneath the round golden yellow and sky blue stained glass window on the far end of the loft; as though waiting for a sunbeam through the window that would never reach him.
####
12:08 p.m.
The longer Ford was in the room, the more queasy Dipper looked. When Stan was worried he was about to get the kid's half-digested eggs on his shoes, he hissed, "What's taking him so long?" (Dipper started.) "Did he lose his nerve—?"
####
12:09 p.m.
The atmosphere abruptly grew eerily quiet and still. There was a shrill, whistling shriek and a blast of blue-white light so brilliant it pierced the cracks of the wooden boards in the attic bedroom's walls.
Every light in the house went out. The air conditioning was silent. The television in the living room turned off. Abuelita waited in the dark, staring at the screen, her expression calm and unconcerned, her hands in her lap laced so tightly that her knuckles were white, until the whine upstairs faded and the TV flickered back on.
####
Soos and his current tour group fell silent, staring at the ceiling as the strange blue lights between the boards faded and the electric lights turned back on. A mom gripping her two children's hands demanded, "What was that?" A few other tourists started murmuring.
"Oh, that?" Soos laughed nervously. "Probably just our resident mad scientist, testing out death lasers from space again, heh."
There was a pause, and then the tour group chuckled appreciatively.
"Haha, right? Hey, speaking of mad scientists—if any of you guys are hungry, stick around after the tour, I'll give you directions to Greasy's Diner. Sometimes Fiddleford McGucket gets coffee there—you know, the famous inventor guy?" Soos pointed over the crowd. "But first, let's go this way to see the invisible man. Or—heh—not see him. You dudes know what I mean!"
As the tour group moved on to the next exhibit, Soos paused to flip up his costume eyepatch and frown at the ceiling.
####
Stan and Dipper rushed into the bedroom. The air was hot, stagnant, and stuffy. Dipper was the first to spot Ford in the loft. "Great Uncle Ford?" He rushed up the ladder, Stan following as fast as his bad back would allow.
Ford was kneeling on the floor, the Quantum Destabilizer dropped across his thighs. There was a hole through the wall straight in front of him, and a pile of ashes three feet in front of his knees. The destabilizer's beam had clipped the loft's stained glass window and shattered it.
All the tension had drained from his face. All the skin sagged into a deep frown.
"Grunkle Ford...?"
"It's done."
Dipper swallowed hard. "So... Bill is...?"
Ford turned to look him in the eyes. "Yes, he's dead."
Neither one of them needed to say anything else to know what the other was thinking. They just shared a look—the two most miserable co-conspirators in Gravity Falls.
Stan, unenthusiastic, said, "Great. Let's go downstairs and celebrate."
####
12:20 p.m.
They got soda and pie, sat in the kitchen, stared into space, and didn't eat.
####
1:00 p.m.
The streak of empty sky opened up by the Quantum Destabilizer's beam had sealed shut again.
It began to drizzle over Gravity Falls.
####
During Soos's lunch break, he went upstairs to quickly patch the hole in the wall before the rain could intensify enough to flood the attic. Everyone downstairs pretended not to hear the hammering.
Stan crossed paths with him when he came downstairs to grab a few more supplies. "Soos? Why are you going upstairs with a broom, a dust pan, and a flower vase?"
Soos said, "Well, I was gonna clean the attic, but it seemed kind of disrespectful to vacuum Bill up, so..."
Stan grimaced. "I'm sorry I asked."
Before the next tour started, Soos brought the sofa cushions downstairs and finally returned them to the folding sofa bed.
####
Dipper went down to the cellar to play video games on the old TV. Abuelita was still in the living room, and Dipper didn't want to use the TV he and Mabel had set up in the attic nook last summer. He didn't want to be anywhere near that bedroom.
"You sure you don't wanna play pinball?" asked Tumbleweed Terror, for the fourth time.
Dipper lost another life. He sighed irritably. "No, man. You tried to kill us last summer, remember?"
"Only on account of your cheatin'," Tumbleweed said. "If'n you don't cheat, I reckon we could get along just fine."
"No. I don't even like pinball."
There was a chilly silence. "Now, them's fighting words." It shot off threatening green sparks.
Dipper scooped Rocky the geodite out of his lap, stood, turned the TV at an angle, and sat down farther away from the pinball machine.
It gave up sparking and sighed. "Hey—whatever happened to that blonde prisoner?"
Dipper flinched and looked at the pinball machine. "What? Who?"
"The one y'all kept locked down here for a day sometime last month. Golden-haired gal with jaundice dressed like a Roman emperor. She, uh... mighta sweet-talked me into letting her play a few rounds for free. Didn't make no difference—terrible reflexes like hers, she weren't no high score candidate anyway." It sounded really defensive about having given someone free balls. "Said her name was 'Goldilocks'. I didn't buy it—but she seemed like a real desperado type, figured it weren't none of my business if she wanted to keep her name secret."
Dipper frowned. He turned away from Tumbleweed Terror. "You won't see her again."
"You sure? She said she might come back, I've been keepin' track of her last score—"
"She's gone. Just—stop talking about her." Dipper lost his last life. He groaned in frustration, and started the level over again for the fifth time. None of it was familiar. He wasn't thinking about the game.
####
"Fishing," Stan said, calling through the open guest room door as he finished another lap of the hallway. He'd taken advantage of Bill's absence by flinging open every door that had remained shut all summer.
"Hm?" Ford was seated at the guest room desk, consumed with writing in his journal like a possessed man trying to exorcise his demon through ink.
"We oughta go fishing," Stan said. He'd been wandering around the shack like a restless ghost since the rain started, loudly making plans now that the rest of summer was freed up. "Fishing season's been open a month and we haven't gone yet! You're gonna love it—the kids and Soos are great fishing buddies."
"Great," Ford said distractedly.
"I bet the guys at the Mackerel lodge think I haven't been out there because I'm embarrassed they kicked me out," Stan muttered. "It's not like I can tell 'em why I couldn't get out of the house..." He trailed off, looking at the ring on his left pinky with the symbol of the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel—the one Bill had shoplifted at the mall.
He crossed his arms, pinning his left hand against his ribs. "My boat might be a little too small for all five of us, though," Stan said. "I wonder if Soos has repaired his since last summer?"
"Yes, yes," Ford mumbled.
Stan frowned. "Hey, Poindexter." He leaned on the desk to peer over Ford's shoulder. "Whatcha writing?" Ford hadn't seen anything that interesting lately, had he?
Ford froze, shoulders tensing, one hand sliding under the cover like he was about to slam it shut. A page and a half were completely packed with words, crammed together without any of Ford's usual headers or esoteric margin doodles, the only illustration a small diagram of a planet encircled by a ring, a moon, and what looked like a sea serpent.
Guiltily, Ford said, "As much as I can remember."
Stanford skimmed the page. The writing was too cramped for him to read most of it, he could only pick out a few phrases that Ford had capitalized in lieu of properly sectioning off his thoughts—"POLYGONAL GENETICS," "SPHERICAL GEOMETRY," "BISHOP BISHOP," "WHAT IS 'EYM'???" Stan pressed his lips together and nodded. Fine. However Ford got it out of his system, as long as it was out.
Stan pushed off the desk and wandered from the room. "We could get fishing gear tomorrow," he said, knowing in his heart no one would be in the mood for it once Mabel got home. "Drizzly, cloudy weather is great for fishing. This is the perfect time to go out on the lake."
Ford had already buried himself back in his journal, writing as fast as he could.
####
Abuelita had dozed off in her seat with the TV still playing soaps.
She was the only person in the house whose conscience felt clean.
####
7:00 p.m.
For the first time since the beginning of summer, Melody stayed over for dinner.
It was a very quiet dinner.
####
10:30 p.m.
"I don't... wanna sleep in the attic tonight." Dipper hovered awkwardly in the guest room's doorway. "You know. With... Mabel gone and all."
"How come," Stan said, "you scared of ghosts?"
Ford shot him a look. "Stan."
"What!" Stan shrugged. "There shouldn't be a ghost anyway, right? That's what your fancy gun is for? It destroyed his... soul or whatever he's got?"
Guilt briefly flashed across Ford's face. He nodded sharply. "Dipper—I'll be sleeping down in my study tonight. You can sleep in my bed if you'd like."
Stan almost asked why Ford was still sleeping downstairs, with the demon out of the picture; but he figured it was for the same reason Dipper wanted to stay out of the attic. Scared of ghosts. Not necessarily literal ones.
"Hey," Stan said to Dipper, when Ford had left and the door was shut. "It's—fine if you want to stay down here. Really. Spending the night in the same room as a dead body's no joke."
Dipper opened his mouth, decided he didn't want to know, and shut it. "Thanks."
Stan was settling into bed and about to take off his glasses when he glanced around the room, flinched, and swore under his breath.
"What?" Dipper glanced across the room. He cringed.
Soos had placed the flower vase on the guest room's fireplace mantle.
####
10:32 p.m.
Dipper carried the vase into the living room, set it on the table, and ran back to the guest room.
The axolotl in the fish tank studied it curiously.
####
11:59 p.m.
In a hotel room in Portland—the Grendinators sharing one bed, Candy and Mabel sharing the other—Mabel waited silent and still for Candy to fall asleep. When Mabel was sure Candy was out, she took her phone off the bedside stand, hid under the covers, and turned the phone's volume down to the smallest sliver of sound possible. She looked up the song "We'll Meet Again," pressed play, and held the speaker up to her ear.
She wiped her tears with the bed sheet.
####
Sunday, 10:15 a.m.
The rain was coming down even more heavily than yesterday.
Soos had been reminded of a broken umbrella Ford had given him a couple weeks ago, and gone looking for it to fix it. He'd now been searching for it for over half an hour.
"I'm sure I left it in the office," Soos said, checking the coat rack in the entryway again to see if he'd hung it up there and forgot.
Stan grunted. "Everything's going missing. The remote's been missing for days." He, Ford, and Dipper were sitting in the living room watching some feel-good Sunday morning news story about a performance troupe that did interpretive dance to bird song. No one was enjoying it. "I don't think I've seen the remote since before the whole eclipse-or-whatever."
"Oh, I found it," Soos said.
"You did? Where?"
"Yeah, it was in my Monster-Mon backpack for some reason? It was pretty waterlogged though. I've been trying to dry it out in the office."
They processed that. Then Ford let out a bark of laughter. "Did Bill bring it along when we went camping just so no one could use it?" He sat up and sucked in a deep breath to shout the question to Bill—and then remembered. The air whooshed out of him in a long sigh. He slouched back onto the sofa.
They heard a car pulling around the house.
Every head turned toward the door.
Outside, Mabel's muffled voice said goodbye to her friends.
There was a moment of dreadful hesitation; and then Dipper, Stan, and Ford were on their feet and moving to the entryway.
Stan opened the door before Mabel could reached the doorknob. "Hey, sweetheart! How was the show?"
Mabel started. "Oh! Great! Hi guys!" She looked between their faces warily. "Whaaat are you all doing here?"
They all avoided meeting her eyes in different directions. Stan said, "We were just—watching the TV and heard you pull up."
"Oh," Mabel said. "Well. The concert was amazing! I got an autograph!" She pulled up her sweater (which today had what looked like two kissing parrots with her sleeves serving as their wings), to reveal she was wearing a pale blue t-shirt of Phrancisco's first album cover, signed in black marker. "Yesterday we went to a cool bookstore, and we got those fancy donuts this morning! Grunkle Ford, we got a lot of pictures of that weird crystal shop sign on the way home!"
"Ah," Ford said. "Good."
She swung around her backpack on one strap to unzip it. "I got two CDs—one of Phrancisco's new stuff and one with acoustic covers of his greatest hits! Except I don't think he had any hits? So I guess they're just his favorite songs." She pulled out the acoustic album. "I... got this one for Bill. I'm gonna ease him into liking synth pop by taking the synth out first." She looked between the guys. "Where is he?"
They winced in three different ways.
Cautiously, Mabel asked, "Is he still in the attic?"
Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan lost the silent argument. He looked at the weathered porch between the door and Mabel's shoes and mumbled, "Weshotim."
"Say wha?"
Stan cleared his throat. "We got that—space gun of Ford's working. We shot him. He's... I'm sorry, sweetie."
Mabel stared at Stan. She dragged her gaze from his face to Dipper's. Dipper bit his lips, staring at his feet. He wouldn't meet her eyes.
She looked from Dipper to Ford. "Grunkle Ford?" Her voice was small. "Is it true?"
For a long moment, Ford said nothing. He dragged his eyes up to meet her stare, took a deep breath, and nodded. "He's dead."
Mabel's eyes widened.
She backed out of the doorway, face blank with shock. Stan reached for her, "Sweetie—" but she jerked her arm away before he could touch her. She turned, leaped off the porch, and ran around the shack toward the main road, her sweater making her look like a colorful bird fluttering away into the gray rain.
"Mabel—Mabel!" Stan stepped out onto the porch. "It's pouring out there, you can't go out!"
Dipper ran several steps after her; then stopped and glanced back at Ford, searching his face for a cue—now what?
Slowly, Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder, holding him back. "She... probably doesn't want us to follow."
Dipper's shoulders sagged, but he nodded.
"She'll be fine," Stan said worriedly, "right? She just—needs time. Gotta grieve in her own way. She'll be back later."
"Yeah," Dipper said, voice thin. "She'll be fine."
Stan stared into the rain a moment longer; then nodded sharply, turned, and shuffled back inside.
Quietly, Dipper asked, "Did we do the right thing?"
Ford didn't know. His stomach had been twisting with guilt and doubt since yesterday. His conscience had kept him up half the night. "I hope so." He feared they'd have second-guessed themselves no matter what.
Ford looked at the Hand Witch's ring; but its cabochon remained a steady, deep blue.
####
8:00 p.m.
Mabel returned to the Mystery Shack when dinner was almost over, shoes and knees muddy, hair hanging in wet tangles around her shoulders. Stan sent her upstairs to change into something dry before she ate; she obeyed without saying anything.
Soos quietly hustled into the living room to grab the flower vase and hide it back in the guest room.
By the time she came back downstairs, everyone had finished eating and Abuelita was washing the dishes. Mabel was wearing a sunny yellow t-shirt. Nobody said anything.
Abuelita had set out a plate for Mabel; she ate alone in the kitchen. Nobody disturbed her.
####
8:45 p.m.
Mabel stopped in front of the living room on her way to the stairs, looked in at her family—Stan, Ford, Dipper, Soos—like she wanted to say something; but she changed her mind and headed up. After a few minutes, Dipper quietly slid off his seat, said goodnight, and followed Mabel upstairs.
"Whaddaya bet that poor kid's in the doghouse now?" Stan muttered. "Bet he'll be back down here in a few minutes."
Ford shook his head. "She—probably needs her brother right now."
Dipper didn't return.
####
Monday, 1:00 a.m.
Stan had said that now that they finally had the house to themselves again, he was gonna enjoy one of the privileges of being an adult he'd missed all summer: staying up to watch boring late night movies. Ford and Soos sat up with him.
None of them cared about the movies. They just couldn't think of sleeping.
During a commercial break between movies, Soos said, "So... I figure we can put the door back up on the downstairs bathroom, huh?"
Stan gave him a tired look.
There was a knock on the back door.
All three of them whipped around to face it.
"Dude," Soos whispered. "It's like, one."
Stan said, "Who the heck...?" He glanced at Ford.
Ford was just staring at the door, eyes wide and mouth turned down, face sick with dread, like he was sure he was about to get arrested for murder.
Stan slowly stood, looked around for a potential weapon, remembered that any potential weapons had been cleared out of the common areas, and cautiously went to open the door.
Standing outside, pants soaked up to the knees, one ankle hooked over the other, hand on hip, using a broken umbrella like a cane, wearing top hat and black gloves and a sequined gold tailcoat—
"Hiya, Stan!" Bill Cipher beamed brilliantly. His gold tooth matched his new coat. "Didja miss me yet?"
Stan punched Bill in the nose.
####
I considered ending the chapter right after the execution when they were eating pie lol.
Comments? Questions? Theories? Thoughts? Questions? Emotions? More questions? I have been DYING to hear what y'all think of this one!
#bill cipher#human bill cipher#stanford pines#grunkle ford#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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Hot Ghouls in your area ch 6
Masterpost
Danny felt like something scraped off the pavement. Through an act of absolutely heroic willpower (and outright fear of Jazz trying to help him rebalance his workload) he made it through his morning classes.
He staggered away from campus, brain buzzing tiredly over numbers and formulas and also his accidental concubine.
Nope. He shook his head rigorously. “I need a pick me up,” Danny decided. He ignored the common sense that said ‘coffee isn't going to fix this.’ Sure. That was true. But it wouldn't hurt, would it? And he was way overdue for the first meal of the day.
He shouldered his way into a café near campus. This wasn't one of the most convenient ones or one of the trendy ones with different seeds or organic whatever baked goods on rotation.
Nah. It was dark, mostly empty, and multiple tables were along the wall with nice views of the windows and door. The only other customers he had seen in this place were 50+. Well, there had been a high school girl inside once, but she'd clearly come in because her grandmother was the owner. Danny beelined to his preferred table and unloaded his backpack onto the spare chair before he gratefully collapsed.
Ah. Dark. Quiet. He slouched onto the table a bit.
“You look tired,” said the owner.
Danny lifted his head just enough to give her a cheesy smile. “Can I get a coffee, please?” He croaked. “And- is it still lunch hours?” They stopped doing lunch at two, didn't they? Shoot. What time-
“I can do lunch,” she reassured. She scribbled something deftly onto a pad of paper. “Roast beef sandwich set?”
“I will protect you with my life,” Danny vowed.
She laughed and turned away, but he was for real for real. Danny forced himself to sit up enough to look around his surroundings. He wanted to stay awake. He had just one more class today - a 4 to 5:30 lab. Once he got through that, he could go to bed.
Huh.
He accidentally made eye contact with a young guy holding up a book. Danny lifted a single wave and then looked away awkwardly.
‘Wait a second.’
Danny did a double take.
Yes. Yes, that fucker was holding up a copy of a book from the library in Pariah's keep. It had ghost writing on it.
The guy slowly, pointedly lifted an eyebrow. He was- he was hot and huge and Danny had seen him lift like 200 lbs of books like they were nothing at all.
Danny flushed bright red and buried his face in his hands.
Okay. Okay, so that was Jason's face. How had he found Danny??? That was absurd. …Was it a threat? It felt kinda threatening. Was he in like, danger? Danny pulled his hands away from his face and squinted as subtly as he could at his hellion of a ghost spouse. What kind of sick mind game was it to lurk along his daily route and passive aggressively remind him that he should be working on their divorce?
Worse than that. This was the fastest anyone had ever found his personal identity. Fear and confusion trawled around his gut. How? Literally how? Danny raced back through his memory of their conversation and kicked himself over every misstep he could remember. Clearly, Jason had been prodding him for enough information to trick him into doxxing himself. It was a betrayal, honestly.
Wait. The burner phone. Danny didn't know how, but Jason must have been able to track it. It was a trick.
Danny gave him a nasty look when he figured that out.
Jason pretended to be absorbed in his book. The bastard!
Danny got tenser and tenser, the tendons in his hand flexing into visibility on top of the table.
He felt guilty about not dropping everything and then resentful that apparently Jason wanted him to. He had other things to do, okay? His school life was important.
“Here's your coffee.”
“Thanks,” Danny said automatically, and moved his hands to free up space for the cup and little container of cream. He immediately spooned in sugar and dumped in all the cream. He was way too grateful for something to do with his hands. He breathed in steam and then took a careful sip. It was a good chance to steal another glance at Jason through his lashes.
Jason was still pretending not to pay attention to him.
What was his deal?
His plate came. Danny ate mashed potatoes and gravied meat with more viciousness than usual, casting dark looks at Jason over the vividly orange carrots he speared into his mouth.
The sugar, caffeine, and confused anger hit his nervous system and converted itself helpfully into energy. Danny buzzed with energy. He was going to tell Jason to back off, he decided. The guy still hadn't moved other than to sip at what had to be ice cold tea by now.
“Do you have a problem?” Jason drawled. For the first time, he shut the book and fixed his green eyes directly on Danny.
“I was wondering what your problem is, actually,” Danny shot back. He gave a pointed look to the book. “Real funny bringing that out in public.” His gaze tracked back up to make eye contact and then his brain stuttered.
Holy cow. That was an ecto sheen on his eyes.
‘... I've already contaminated him?’
“It's just a book,” Jason said, voice full of fake confusion. As if he hadn't brought it there to make a point!
Yeah, okay. Danny scoffed. “Whatever, asshole,” he dismissed. He dug money out of his wallet and slapped it on the table to cover his lunch. He barely remembered to grab his backpack through the haze of anger. “I'm sure I'll see you soon.” He took the time to aim an ugly face at Jason on the way out, pulling his lower eyelids down and sticking out his tongue. He barreled out the door while Jason was still sputtering in his fake ass shock.
Boo! That jerk!
#red hot ghouls#dp x dc#dc x dp#dead on main#jason todd#danny fenton#Jason fails to enjoy a nice cup of chamomile
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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟐)
PART ONE | PART TWO
pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader
word count: 15.9k words
summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him manage to agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done
warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), mentions of trust/abandonment issues, some angst, platonic fluff (at first), smut (18+)
author's note: the second and final part! not much to say except enjoy enjoy and happy (almost) new year🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“Do you like Maddie’s dad?”
Hearing that abrupt question fall from Oliver’s lips confused you so much that all you could do was initially answer with a bewildered, “What?”
You were used to Oliver always asking random questions that felt as if they came out of absolutely nowhere; it was especially one of his favorite things to do during any sort of car ride, and this Saturday morning drive to the soccer field for practice was apparently no different. But, you fully did not expect to hear that question from him.
“Are you guys, like, boyfriend-girlfriend?” He asked, and that follow-up question further confused you, or maybe it more so startled you.
“No… No, we’re not,” You answered and glanced at him sitting in the backseat through the rearview mirror. He was dressed in his dark green soccer uniform, wearing everything except for the cleats because he liked to put them on right before he ran out onto the field with the other kids. “What made you think that?”
“I don’t know…” You could practically hear him shrug. “But, I think it would be cool if you guys were. Maddie thinks so too.”
You weren’t entirely sure what to say to that. “Oh, okay… But, I don’t think that will happen, bud. We’re friends. Just like you and Maddie.”
“Okay.”
It suddenly felt like perfect timing that you were pulling into the gravelly parking lot next to the soccer field. You helped Olly put on and tie up his cleats before he ran over to Maddie and the other kids already on the field. You grabbed the two coffees that were sitting in the cupholder and then headed to the silver metal bleachers, immediately spotting Steve among the other parents.
He gave you a quick wave and smile and you only nodded and smiled back at him since your hands were full and you couldn’t match his wave. It still felt the tiniest bit insane to you that what you had said to Oliver in the car wasn’t a complete lie; you and Steve were in fact friends, and had been for the past month.
Just days after you two had the moment in your kitchen where the “enemies” hatchet was finally buried, he and Maddie came to the coffee shop sometime in the afternoon. For the first time ever, you didn’t feel like you needed to pretend to be nice to him. Instead, you found yourself actually wanting to be nice and you were glad about this surprise playdate. And that was when you knew that you two were friends, or at the very least, quickly getting there.
He and Maddie stayed for hours. With Maddie and Oliver sitting and playing games in a two-person booth, and Steve standing with you at the front counter. You two talked about random things— the kinds of things that you had a feeling you both would’ve learned about each other during your first-ever conversation if you two had actually been nice to one another— and then you let him try a new drink recipe that you had been playing around with because he was interested, and that became a sort of routine.
“Hi. Morning. Here.” You handed him one of the cups in your hand before taking your spot next to him in the middle row of the bleachers. “It’s another new thing I’m thinking about adding to the menu for the rest of Fall and maybe Winter too. Tell me your thoughts.”
He took a sip of the drink and then nodded. “This is good. Not as insanely sweet as the last thing you made me try.”
“Okay, I know you hated that latte that I gave you last week, but it’s actually been a big hit so far,” You told him. The sweet drink quickly became popular among the high schoolers that would frequent the coffee shop, and you were glad that you listened to Jude— one of your employees who was also a part of that younger demographic— and put it on the menu. “Oh, also, I think you and I might be getting parent trapped soon.”
“Should I be scared?” Steve asked, looking at you with a confused expression.
You stopped mid-sip of your drink. “Wait, have you not seen The Parent Trap?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Jesus, wow, you need to watch that movie, it’s a classic,” You told him, the shock you felt was evident in your tone. “Anyway, though, what I mean is that I think Olly and Maddie are gonna try to get us together. He mentioned in the car ride over here that they both think it would be cool if we started dating.”
“Oh.”
“I already told him that that wouldn’t happen and we’re just friends, so hopefully that idea will blow over soon,” You said to Steve and then took a long sip from your drink.
“Knowing our kids, I kinda doubt that will happen,” He responded, and you actually couldn’t help but agree with him. The way Maddie and Olly had managed to convince you and Steve about the playdate thing after a week’s worth of pestering proved that they wouldn’t let go of anything easily. Thinking about it now, you kinda admired how persistent they had been during then.
“Well, in that case, it’s good that they don’t look alike so they can’t try to switch places. But, we need to make sure that we stay away from boats and camping trips.”
Another confused expression crossed Steve’s face. “I really think I need to watch that movie.”
“Yes, you do,” You said with a nod as you met his eyes. “As my friend, you need to promise me that you will watch that 1998 classic.”
He laughed a bit. “I promise.”
You turned your attention back to the soccer field and shook your head. “I never thought I’d say that.”
“What?”
“That we’re friends,” You said, looking at him again. “But, it’s nice, though.”
Steve nodded at that and gave you a small smile. “Yeah, it is.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Over the past year, you’d come to savor anytime after 9pm. It was the only time of the day, well night, that you were able to have complete peace— no worrying about Oliver because he was asleep, and no worrying about the coffee shop because it was closed.
On this particular night, long after Olly’s soccer practice and time spent at the coffee shop, you were in your bathroom, washing your face and putting on pajamas; which simply consisted of a random oversized t-shirt and shorts. You decided that you’d curl up in bed and spend the rest of your night watching a shitty reality show because it somehow always felt nice watching other people’s drama.
Right as you were slipping on your t-shirt, your phone started ringing on the counter, which stopped the music that you had been playing from it, and you looked down to see that it was Steve FaceTiming you.
This had happened a handful of times over the past month— him calling you, you calling him. It was usually to get quick answers to questions that either of you two had, but sometimes it was also just to talk about random things whenever a simple text didn’t feel like it would suffice.
“Hi,” You said as you turned off the bathroom light and shut the door before heading to your bed. “Great timing. Oliver went to sleep about fifteen minutes ago.”
You noticed that Steve was also sitting in bed. He pushed a quick hand through his hair as he spoke. “I learned that if I’m gonna call, I should only do it after nine now.”
The last time he FaceTimed you, Oliver had been sitting next to you on the couch. When he heard Steve’s voice, he immediately asked him where Maddie was, and then she heard Olly’s voice from where she was playing in the living room. Barely a second later, your phones were immediately taken by the kids and they talked for an hour.
“Great thinking,” You told him with a small approving nod. “I hope that whatever you called to talk about is good because I was just about to watch a very riveting reality show about these housewives taking a trip around Europe.”
“Wow, that sounds very fun,” Steve said, and you could hear the sarcasm in his voice.
“Mhm, it will be. I can’t wait until they get to Paris. According to the trailer, some huge argument is gonna happen when they’re at the Arc de Triomphe,” You responded, matching his sarcastic tone.
“Now, I’m really intrigued,” He joked. “Anyway, though, I called to tell you that I just finished watching The Parent Trap.”
You smiled at that. “I’m glad you did your homework early. Did you like it?”
“It was actually pretty good. Maddie watched some of it with me too, but she fell asleep not even halfway through.”
“She’s too young to understand the cultural importance of The Parent Trap just yet. She’ll come around soon.”
“Also, right after practice, she mentioned the dating thing to me. She said that she and Olly think it would be nice if you and me got together.”
You let out a small sigh. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “She was very persistent too; asked if I thought you were pretty, and said that I should bring you flowers the next time I see you. Apparently, Oliver told her that your favorite ones are daisies, so I should make sure to get those for you.”
Your eyes widened a bit at his words. If you weren’t so shocked, you were almost certain that you would’ve laughed at how much thought your kids were putting into this whole idea. “Oh, wow, they’re relentless.”
“Are daisies actually your favorite?”
“Yeah,” You answered and then sighed again. You weren’t even entirely sure how Oliver knew that. When you two first moved into your house in Hawkins, you would buy fresh daisies every week in an attempt to make the place feel like a home because you barely had any furniture just yet and there weren’t that many decorations up either. But you couldn’t remember the last time you bought any flowers for the place.
Steve let out an amused sound. “Wow, yeah, Maddie and Olly are good.”
You dating someone was the farthest thing from your mind, but it surprised you that it was the main thing on Oliver’s. You thought that you’d have a longer time before you’d have to worry about that; before you’d have to think about him really wanting some sort of “dad” or “father figure” in his life. Eddie was the closest thing, but Oliver didn’t see him as often anymore since his California move.
You thought that the little family that you and Olly had, just the two of you, was enough— more than enough, even.
“I didn’t think that this would happen this soon,” Steve said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “It’s only been a year since her mom left, so I really didn’t think that she’d want me to start dating, get married, whatever, whatever, anytime soon. And I’m too busy to even think about trying to look for someone.”
You agreed with him completely. And then there was also the fact that you simply didn’t want to date anytime soon. You despised the thought of finally having to start over; even though you knew that eventually one day you would. Maybe.
As cynical and depressing as it sounded, you couldn’t really imagine it happening for you again— falling in love or just simply falling, deeply liking someone. And a part of you would just rather wholly avoid the possibility at all costs.
You knew that how things ended with Oliver’s dad was not your fault at all, but that didn’t change the fact that you still felt stupid about everything; for being so blind to the affair and for believing his lies for as long as you did. And the thought of all of that potentially happening again— loving and trusting someone just to have them break your heart and fuck you over in one of the worst ways possible— terrified you.
You could’ve said all of that to Steve, but you felt like that would’ve been way too long-winded and melancholic, so you decided to just simply nod instead. “I don’t know if we should just get used to them trying to get us together, or talk to them and say that us being anything more than friends is never gonna happen.”
“If it becomes too much we probably should talk to them,” Steve said, and that made sense to you. “But now I’m glad Maddie fell asleep halfway through the movie because it probably would’ve just given her ideas.”
“Have you seen Freaky Friday?”
“No. Is that another movie that can relate to the situation we’re in right now?”
“No, it’s just a really good movie. Another Lindsay Lohan classic,” You briefly explained. “You should watch it.”
Steve was quiet for a moment, as if he was really thinking about whatever he was about to say. “How about right now?”
You laughed a bit before mock gasping at his question. “You trying to get me off the phone, Steven?”
He smiled at your fake offended look. “No, I meant that we could watch it right now. Together over the phone.”
“Oh,” You said, trying to hide your surprise at the suggestion. Watching a movie together was technically a friendly thing to do, but it did feel the tiniest bit intimate; like the two of you were crossing into a slightly altered territory of what your friendship was. That still didn’t make the idea necessarily sound bad to you, though. It sounded fun, a better way to spend the rest of your Saturday night than what you had originally planned on doing. “Okay, yeah let’s watch it. I guess I’ll just have to watch the housewives go to Europe at a different time.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
“How’s it going so far?” Was the first thing you heard Eddie say when the call connected, and you couldn’t help but smile into your phone at how excited he sounded. It made you happy that you impulsively decided to call him when you stepped into the back room of your coffee shop; the kitchen area that felt equivalent to a second home for you. “It’s great, right?”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, it’s been really good, honestly.”
The “it” that you both were referring to was the open mic night event happening at the coffee shop right then. Eddie had been the one to suggest the idea nearly a year ago, around the time when the shop finally opened.
“It would make so much sense,” Was the beginning of his spiel. “This place is the perfect size to set up mic stands and speakers in the front by the window. Pretty much any sort of ‘starving artist’ would love to have a space where they can perform, and most people enjoy live music, so doing this will bring in a ton of business.”
You loved the idea and you agreed with Eddie’s points completely, but then he moved to California and it didn’t feel right to do the idea without him. But, he said that he wouldn’t let you not do it. Because no other place in the small town was doing something like this— and that very valid statement was the reason why tonight was already such a success. A part of you wished that you had done the event sooner, instead of continuously putting it off for months and months.
The setup of it was simple— anyone with any sort of “talent” that they wanted to share was welcome to perform, and after a particularly awkward magician, the majority of the performances were musical, and almost everyone that decided to go up and sing or play something so far were pretty good. You had even teared up at a brother-sister duo that performed a self-written instrumental piece on the guitar and violin.
“I would say an ‘I told you so,’ but I love you too much to be that much of an asshole right now.”
“Yeah, and another reason why you shouldn’t say any kind of ‘I told you so’ right now is because I’m still slightly mad at you for bailing at the last second and not being here tonight,” You responded, letting out a small sigh. You leaned against the metal table in the middle of the kitchen where a sheet of freshly baked cookies sat next to you. Eddie was also supposed to be sitting next to you at this moment, sneaking a cookie off the sheet, and then you getting playfully annoyed at him for doing so.
“I know, and I’m still really sorry. My publicist decided to set up something early tomorrow that I can’t get out of,” He said, re-explaining what he had already told you earlier that morning. Of course, you weren’t truly upset with him; he was doing what he loved out there in California, and you were doing what you loved right here in Hawkins. “Is Steve there yet?”
“Yeah, he got here like ten minutes ago. I’ve been so busy, though, so I haven’t gotten the chance to say much more than a quick hi to him.”
Eddie hummed in response. “Has he fully replaced me yet?”
“Oh, shut up. Steve could never replace you, Munson,” You told him, your words a thousand percent true. “You’re more than just my best friend at this point, you’re like my fucking family. You cannot be replaced, and that also means that you can never get rid of me either, so I hope you understand what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“I wouldn’t dream of getting rid of you,” He said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice; you really missed him being only a ten-minute drive away.
“Thank you. I feel honored. Truly,” You said playfully.
“Oh, also, are Oliver and Madeline still trying to play matchmaker for you guys?” Eddie asked and you rolled your eyes at how amused he sounded.
Somehow, your attempt in the car that Saturday to shut the dating idea down by telling Oliver that you and Steve were just friends, seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Olly would continuously remind you how much he liked Steve, how cool he was, and how he’d always have the best snacks whenever the kids were having a playdate at his house. Oliver even went as far as to tell you to wear more blue because that was Steve’s favorite color.
And pretty much the same thing was happening to Steve but with Maddie. According to him, she gushed about you all of the time— perhaps actually convincing Steve to get her a fish only aided in that— and she continued to pester him about buying you flowers.
But, their antics started calming down over the past few weeks, though, because of every gentle reminder you said to Oliver about how you and Steve were solely friends. It was way too hard to be stern about it because you hated disappointing him and you just really wanted him to be happy. But, before Steve came around, you thought that he was really happy with how things were.
When you verbalized that thought on the phone to Eddie right then, he simply told you, “Just like you want him to be happy. He wants you to be happy too.”
“Why does he think that happiness comes from Steve?”
“Maybe he and Maddie see something that you two don’t see yet.”
You thought about his words. For a second, you wondered what the kids could possibly see that you and Steve seemed to be oblivious to.
“Okay, and on that note, I’m gonna go. I’ve probably been gone for far too long. I told Jude that I was just going to grab the cookies that had been cooling for a few minutes and bring them out,” You told him as you took a quick glance at the mix of chocolate chip and sugar cookies again. “I’ll see you in less than a month for Christmas. Oh, and about that, you really didn’t need to buy me and Olly first-class plane tickets.”
You heard his playful scoff. “You guys are my family. Of course, I’m gonna get you first-class tickets.”
“Thank you, and this spoiling treatment is exactly why you’ll never be able to get rid of us,” You said and smiled when you heard Eddie laugh. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bye.”
When he hung up, you slipped your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans. You grabbed the now cooled cookie sheet and exited the kitchen, going back behind the counter with Jude. Since things had somewhat simmered down compared to how lively it had been an hour and a half ago, you told her that she should finally take her break for the night and she happily accepted the offer.
Steve walked up to you as you started placing the cookies in the display case. “Hi.”
“Hey, thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” He said, and hearing how genuine his words sounded made you smile.
“It’s probably too late for coffee, so do you want a hot chocolate?” You asked and looked at him once you finished putting the last few cookies in the case. “It’s free. Friend discount for the night.”
“Wow, that’s a really good discount,” Steve said playfully.
“I like to be very generous to the people I care about,” You told him, matching his tone and smiling. “And I don’t have that many friends, so I’m actually not losing out on a lot of money.”
He smiled back at you. “Now I feel even more honored that I’m one of them.”
You poured some hot chocolate into the blue mug that you would never admit out loud but was pretty much designated as Steve’s at this point. For some reason, you found yourself always making sure to use it for him whenever he wasn’t getting something to-go, and once you learned from Olly that Steve’s favorite color was blue, it felt even more right to use it for him. In your mind, you saw it as a small gesture that didn’t really mean too much, but maybe that wasn’t entirely true. And that was another thing that you’d never admit out loud.
“Thank you,” He said as you handed the mug over to him. The small smile he gave you let you know that he recognized the gesture and probably had been for the last month and a half.
Instead of acknowledging the mug or the hot chocolate or anything else, you nodded your head in the direction of the makeshift “stage” area that you had set up earlier with the help of Jude.
“Any secret talents you want to go up there and share?” You asked, only slightly joking with your question. “There’s a full waiting list, but I can move you to the top, and I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“No, it’s okay, I’d rather not cut in front of everyone that was here before me. Next time, though,” He answered and it was easy to hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“I will definitely hold you to that next time,” You said, playing along with him. “So, what’s your talent? Something tells me that you’re killer at the guitar. Ooh, wait, actually the triangle!”
Steve only gave you an unamused look and you tried your hardest to hold back your laughter.
“I’ll take that as a no to the triangle.”
“I’m gonna change the subject now,” He said, and you nodded, deciding to allow it to happen even though you had at least three more triangle jokes ready to go. “Can you please not let me forget to get some cookies for Maddie before I leave? She’s at my parent’s house for the night, but I promised I’d have some for her tomorrow so she can have them right after the soccer game.”
“Of course, I’ll put some to the side for her,” You told him. “I know the chocolate chip ones are her favorite. Same as Oliver.”
“Where is Olly?”
“At home with a babysitter— this super nice eighth grader that lives next door to us. She texted me half an hour ago that he finally fell asleep after watching Finding Nemo two times.”
“Maddie’s current movie obsession is Monsters Inc.,” Steve said with a small laugh. “We’ve been watching it at least once a night for the past week.”
“That’s a great one. She has good taste,” You said and Steve nodded.
You wanted to keep talking to him, but the sound of the music quieting down and soft clapping pulled you out of the conversation.
“I’ll be right back. Gotta go announce the next person going up. Are you sure you don’t want it to be you?” You asked him teasingly.
Steve only shook his head and rolled his eyes at you as you started walking away.
You went up and introduced the next person, a middle-aged guy with a guitar who started playing the acoustic version of a song that you vaguely recognized from the radio.
Steve was still standing right where you left him, lingering by the front counter and drinking from his mug, and you headed back to your spot behind the counter. He mentioned the PTA meeting last night that heavily talked about the Winter Carnival happening next week and Leslie, the head of the PTA, told everyone what their jobs would be— Steve was assigned to the popcorn station and you were put on the ring toss game. You and Steve already made plans to take the kids Saturday night since the First Grade parents only had to “volunteer” on Friday. He laughed at a joke you made right then about being surprised that you weren’t being forced to “volunteer” Friday and Saturday to make up for the fact that you didn’t help out last year.
Things went like that for the next hour— you two talking and laughing with one another, and some people coming up to order teas and hot chocolates and the occasional latte— until the time hit nine o’clock and the night came to its end. After giving a generous round of applause to the final performer and you announcing the end of this first open mic night, everyone slowly started heading out.
A few people came up to you, telling you how great the night was and saying that you needed to do this again. You made a mental note to text Eddie later and once again thank him for this idea, and you’d maybe even let him finally say an “I told you so.”
You bagged up three chocolate chip cookies for Madeline and were about to hand them over to Steve, who was now sitting in an empty booth, and say your goodbye to him when Jude came up to you. There was a look on her face that resembled a cross between annoyance and slight worry.
“I’m so sorry. I just got a call from my brother. He broke his arm while at his friend’s house and he’s at the hospital right now. And my parents are out of town for the weekend, so I’m the only “adult” around who knows all of the insurance stuff and everything, so I have to go. I’m sorry.”
The look on her face immediately made complete sense to you right then. Ever since you hired Jude eight months ago, you became very used to hearing her teenage rambles about her ten-year-old brother who she would constantly describe as the “bane of her existence.” Therefore, the fact that she was annoyed about this incident wasn’t surprising, but it was also a little heartwarming to see that you could tell that she was also, at least, the tiniest bit worried about him.
“Yes, go. I completely understand. I hope he’s okay.”
“He’s an idiot, but he’ll be fine,” She responded as she joined you behind the counter for a second to grab her jacket that was hanging on one of the hooks and then started heading to the front door. “I’m really sorry again.”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I promise. Go, go,” You told her and she nodded. The bell chimed as she opened the door, and chimed again when it fell shut.
You went over to Steve, sitting down across from him and handing over the bag of chocolate chip cookies.
“Thanks,” He said, giving you a small smile. “I can stay and help you clean up if you want.”
“I hope you really mean that because we’re past the point in our friendship where I would politely decline that offer to be nice. I’d actually really love some help right now.”
Steve laughed a bit. “I do mean it. And I owe you for the free hot chocolate and cookies.”
“You don’t owe me at all because that was the friend discount, but I will still accept that reasoning,” You said and smiled at him before slipping out of the booth.
It was second nature for you to silently go into the routine that you were so used to doing at the end of every night— clearing mugs and small plates off the tables and tossing empty cups into the nearby trash can— and Steve followed suit.
Your mind almost immediately traveled to thinking about tomorrow, already going through and planning out what the day would look like— Oliver’s soccer game was in the morning and then you’d be back here for the rest of the day with Olly taking his spot in his favorite booth and proceeding to work on homework and then playing games, and you’d be at the cash register or in the kitchen working half of the day with Kyle, another one of your employees, and then the other half with Jude. You were then reminded that you would need to check in with her in the morning about her brother and see if she’d even be able to come in tomorrow.
Your never-ending thoughts should’ve been taking a break for at least an hour or two, it was late and you were exhausted. But, whenever you were here closing up for the night, it was hard not to think about everything that could technically be deemed as “morning problems for tomorrow.” The relief you’d always feel about one day going really well would oh so quickly be replaced with the stressed need to make sure that the next day also went well, which made it completely impossible to not think about it.
You weren’t sure how long things had been quiet, but when you heard Steve break the silence and softly say, “You okay?” you became aware of how long it had been since either of you had said something.
“Oh, sorry, yeah, I’m just thinking a lot, I guess. Running through a million things at once,” You told him as you cleared one of the last tables, grabbing the mug full of a half-drunken latte and crumb-filled plate.
“Okay, yeah, that’s what I thought. You kinda get this certain look on your face when you’re thinking really hard.”
You let out a laugh. “Does it resemble a deer in headlights? Because Eddie’s told me that one before.”
Steve coughed, which you knew was him just trying to hold back his laugh, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him as he spoke. “I feel bad saying yes, but yeah he’s right.”
“Just so you know, you also have a very uncute serious face.”
“I didn’t say yours wasn’t cute.”
You weren’t entirely sure what felt more unexpected; Steve’s words or how immediately affected you felt by them. Any quip or teasing joke you had on the tip of your tongue vanished in a matter of seconds, and your mind effectively became a flustered pile of mush; almost embarrassingly so.
You were glad that Steve couldn’t see you right then, and you were especially glad that you two were on completely opposite sides of the shop at that moment— you putting the dirty mug and plate in the sink, and him clearing off the final table and tossing a coffee cup and random wrapper in the trash— because that distance meant that there was no way that you could read too heavily into what he just said, and he couldn’t pick up on how awkward and confused you immediately felt because of it.
A forced laugh fell from your lips, and you hoped to God and the universe and whatever else was out there that it didn’t sound completely fake.
You walked over to the front window, where the makeshift stage area was, and grabbed the mic stand and wooden stool and Steve grabbed the two now unplugged speakers and followed you to the storage closet in the back. Once all of that was put away, you would just need to prep the cookie dough for tomorrow, and then the night would be done.
“How are your baking skills, Harrington?” You asked him. You met his eyes for the first time in the past few minutes, it felt easier to do so now since your mind was back to only thinking about work.
“I’ve never baked anything before, but I’m good at following instructions.”
You smiled at that answer and it was what led you both to the kitchen. After washing your hands, you grabbed two metal bowls and the ingredients that would be needed for the cookies. And Steve was telling the truth, he was good at following instructions— you did the dough for the chocolate chip cookies, and you told him what to do for the sugar ones since they were a little bit easier, and it was all finished faster than you had expected. You put some plastic wrap over both bowls before placing them in the fridge.
“Thanks for all of the help tonight,” You told him. You both were now washing your hands at the sink that was full of the dishes that were the actual final thing you’d have to do before leaving. “If you’re ever in dire need of a part-time job, you’re hired.”
“Is the employee discount as good as the friend discount?” Steve asked as you turned off the water. He ripped off a paper towel and handed it to you and then grabbed one for himself.
“It’s twenty percent.”
“I think I’ll just stick to being your friend then.”
That time you did entirely read into his words, as playful as they were. Just friends. That was exactly what you wanted and needed from him. You weren’t in the right headspace to consider being anything else with him, and you weren’t sure you ever would be.
And besides, you liked being friends with him. It had been completely unexpected, but you liked talking to him, and you liked hanging out with him during Oliver and Madeline’s playdates that now felt like they were playdates for you both too, and you liked watching movies on the phone with him some nights before you went to bed— just last night you’d watched the first Tobey Maguire Spider-Man movie, as per Steve’s request.
You were perfectly okay with being just friends with Steve, and as you continuously told Olly, it was the only thing that you two would ever be.
You looked at him right then and he almost immediately met your gaze.
“I don’t know how I’m just now noticing this, but you got some flour on your forehead,” You told him. Before he could say anything, you stepped closer to him and reached up to brush the white substance away with the damp paper towel in your hand.
He gave you a soft look and there was a small smile on his face. “Thanks.”
It was obvious what sequence of events should’ve happened next— you should’ve told him that you just needed to clean the dishes in the sink and then the night would officially be done, and he didn’t have to stay for that. You should’ve finally said a goodbye and see you tomorrow to him.
However, right then, neither of you moved, and instead this sudden close proximity and the look and smile on his face made you get hit with the abrupt feeling that you wanted something more to happen, something more than just a friendly goodbye that was maybe followed by a simple hug.
It was an insane idea that contradicted everything you had just told yourself. But, deep down you knew that the reason why you felt the urge to kiss him right here in this moment was the same reason why you always used the same mug for him every time he came here, and why you refused to admit it out loud. And right then, you still refused to dissect exactly what that all meant and what it would come to mean in the long run.
Just for a second, you didn’t want to think about anything. You wanted to turn your brain off and simply focus on this moment that somehow felt so fucking right.
And maybe Steve could read how much you wanted this to happen through the enamored look that you were certain was written all over your face, and that was why he let his hand come up to meet your cheek and why he leaned in closer, which made your eyes fall shut in anticipation.
There was such a huge part of you that wanted this to happen, that felt as if you needed it to because maybe it had always been inevitable.
However, it didn’t take long for the existential dread to creep into your mind and prick right at the forefront of it. The reminders of why you’d been so scared of something like this happening with anyone for the past three years hit you like a freight train. Once you thought about all of that, you couldn’t force yourself to think or not think about anything else. Your mind was now on Oliver’s dad and what that entire situation with him changed for you— how it made you think about and see everything involving love so differently.
And it was that painful reminder of what you were now terrified of that made you pull away from Steve and turn your head at the last second.
“I… I’m sorry.”
Your gaze was fixed on the floor because you couldn’t bear to see what look was written across Steve’s face right then.
“It’s okay.” His voice was soft when he spoke, which somehow made you feel worse.
“It’s just…” You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t pull your thoughts together fast enough. Your mind was moving in a thousand different directions and you still couldn’t even muster up the courage to simply look at Steve right then.
“You don’t have to explain. It’s okay, really,” He assured you again and you felt like he was being way too nice to you when you felt like the shittiest person.
“No, I wanna explain…” You told him, finally meeting his eyes. It was hard to read what he was thinking or feeling right then. “It’s just… I can’t– I don’t know.” You shook your head at yourself for being at such a loss for words at that moment. “I’m really sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Let’s just pretend this never happened,” He stepped away from you then, and you let him, deciding not to say anything else— you could no longer trust your voice, anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for the soccer game.”
You nodded quickly because you knew that there was nothing else to do. “Mhm, yup, yeah, see you tomorrow.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Oliver gave you a look that he knew you wouldn’t be able to deny— there were puppy dog eyes and a pout that actually made your heart hurt. He was good. And you were weak.
“Okay, you can finish this episode, but then you’re starting your homework, bud.”
He smiled and leaned back into the couch, turning his attention back to the cartoon that was playing on the television in the living room. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” You told him. You were completely okay with giving Olly some time to relax after school before starting his homework, but somehow you were almost always convinced by him to turn the thirty minutes into an hour— and maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised that this Wednesday afternoon was no different.
It was also, overall, a surprisingly calm afternoon. There weren’t a thousand tasks on your plate right then; the calls you had to make and orders you had to place were already done. You had been at the coffee shop the entire morning and some of the afternoon before you had to pick Olly up from school, and Jude and Kyle would be closing for the night. Essentially, you would be free for the rest of the evening and night.
Instead of attempting to find anything to stress about at that moment, you were sitting on the small loveseat in the living room with your laptop balancing on the arm of the chair as you scrolled through the pictures taken during the open mic night.
Having a photographer for the night had been Steve’s suggestion, and it made sense coming from him given that he was in marketing, and he said that posting some on social media would be a good way to promote the event if and when you decided to do it again. You also thought it could be a nice idea to frame some and hang them up in the coffee shop.
For most of the night, you’d forgotten that there had been a photographer there because of how discreet Shelby had been the entire time. But now you were looking at the edited pictures she emailed you earlier that morning of everything she’d taken barely a week ago, and you were already blown away even though you’d only looked at the first ten so far.
There were a bunch of shots of people sitting at tables and booths happily enjoying their drinks and food, and there were also some of the people who decided to go up and perform. As you clicked through each of the photos and made mental notes of which ones you’d maybe want to post or hang up, you abruptly stopped at one of you and Steve.
It shouldn’t have been that surprising to see a photo of you and him, you had been with each other during most of the night, but it still genuinely startled you to see such a candid moment of the two of you.
You were standing on one side of the counter and Steve was on the other— that was the only part of the photo that didn’t surprise you. You couldn’t tell just from that single shot what you two had been talking about in that moment, but it looked like whatever the conversation was about was a good one. There was a wide and elated smile on your face that reached your eyes, which were staring right into Steve’s, and an adoring look was written so clearly across his face along with a small smile.
It looked like you two were dating; like you were newlyweds, even— if it were strangers in this photo, you would’ve easily thought either of those things. It looked like a picture of two people in love, so completely and utterly in love with each other.
And it especially looked so goddamn obvious.
Before even seeing this picture, it was clear to you that you felt something for him— what other reason would have made you almost kiss him that night? But, you didn’t realize just how deeply you felt, and you had forced yourself not to think about any of that over the last few days. You hoped that if you avoided and didn’t think about it, it would all just eventually go away. However, now that it was staring you right in the face, it suddenly became way too hard to deny everything or push it away or even pretend that you hadn’t just seen that picture.
You were hit so abruptly with the truth that you couldn’t not finally admit it to yourself. You always gave him the same mug when he came to the coffee shop because you liked him. You wanted so badly to kiss him that night because you liked him. Fuck.
You quickly realized that what you saw in that photo was what Oliver and Madeline saw all of the time, and now it made complete sense why they were trying to push you and Steve into each other’s arms. Although you and him were apparently oblivious, they saw how happy you two were with each other.
Eddie was right.
Your once calmed mind was now back to running a million miles a minute, and it became fully submerged with thoughts of Steve and how you felt about him and the almost kiss that you tried your hardest to forget ever even happened. You felt the overwhelming urge to cry the longer you looked at the photo, but you still couldn’t help but keep staring at it.
You stood up from the loveseat and took a brief look at Olly before you walked out of the living room, he was laughing at the show on the TV. You went into the kitchen, setting your laptop down on the table and pulling your phone out of where it was in the pocket of the sweatpants you were wearing. You called the only person that you wanted to talk to at that moment, and you hoped that he wasn’t busy even though it was barely noon in California right then.
When Eddie answered with a happy “Hello” on the fourth ring, you immediately said, “You were right.”
“Right about what?”
You bypassed his question for the moment. “I’m gonna send you a picture and just tell me what you… See in it. What you notice about it.”
“That sounds very cryptic, but I’m intrigued,” He said and if it were any other moment, you probably would’ve cracked a smile at Eddie’s comment, but you felt way too stressed to do so.
You texted him the photo of you and Steve through your laptop and when it said “Delivered” after a few seconds, you waited for whatever Eddie had to say about it. He’d be the one to tell you if you were crazy and overthinking things with the picture or not.
It was quiet for barely thirty seconds before he said something. “Woah. Shit.”
You were mindlessly pacing back and forth from the table to the sink as you held the phone to your ear. “Can I get a full sentence, please?”
“I knew that you liked him, but I didn’t know you were in love with him.”
That was not at all the response you were expecting to hear from him.
“What? You didn’t— I don’t—” You shook your head and took a breath. “Before seeing that picture, what could’ve possibly made you think that I liked him?”
“From the moment you told me that you and him were finally friends, there was just something about the way you talked about him. And then as you guys got closer and you talked about him more, it just seemed pretty obvious.”
Once again, Eddie said something that was entirely unexpected. It was hard to imagine it— you walking around with a crush that was apparently obvious to everyone but you— but you now knew it was true. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? You never called me out about it.”
“I figured you’d just tell me when you wanted to or when you decided to do something about the crush,” He answered, and that was such a nonchalant and Eddie kind of response that it didn’t surprise you in the slightest bit. “Is this your way of finally telling me?”
“No,” Was your immediate answer. In a way, it felt like a reflex or second nature to deny how you were feeling. “I’m not even sure if I actually have feelings for him.”
Your life would’ve been so much easier if that wasn’t a complete lie.
Eddie immediately laughed at your words and when you didn’t join in, he stopped. “Oh, you’re being serious. I thought you were joking.”
“It’s just…” You had absolutely no idea how to finish your statement. You sighed and finally sat down at the kitchen table. “I’m really, really confused and scared, Eddie.”
Before he could say anything in response to that, you closed your eyes and said your next words. “Me and him almost kissed.”
“Woah, what the hell? When?”
“It was last week at the open mic night. He stayed and helped me clean up because Jude had to leave early. We were washing our hands after making cookie dough and somehow we were about to kiss, but I pulled away at the last second and then he left. And we’ve been pretending like none of that happened ever since.”
It actually hadn’t been so hard to force things to be normal and completely okay between you two. Neither you nor Steve brought up what happened, just like you both agreed on, and in a way, it was easy to pretend as if the moment never happened in the first place— technically, nothing actually did happen, anyway.
“Why did you pull away?”
“It was because of a mix of a bunch of things that are all basically the same thing,” You said and then let out a sigh. “I never thought that I’d want to be with someone again; like them or love them or whatever else. And I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to feel anything even remotely equivalent to love ever again because of the shitstorm my marriage became. And I do like Steve and I do feel all of those things that I didn’t think I ever would again, but I still don’t know if I'll ever be ready for something… More. Something real again because of everything that happened with…” You trailed off; you didn’t have to say his name for Eddie to know exactly who you were talking about.
“Fuck that guy,” Eddie said with a huff. “I swear if I ever meet him, I’m gonna beat his ass.”
The conviction in his tone made you smile. “Thank you.”
“I do think that you can trust Steve, though. He’s one of the good ones. If this fucking picture says anything, it’s that he definitely feels the same way as you. And if it says anything else, it’s that he wouldn’t even think about fucking things up.”
It was hard not to smile at Eddie’s words. “You can see all of that in this photo?”
“You know the saying. A picture’s worth a thousand words or some shit,” He told you, and you could practically hear the shrug in his voice, which made you laugh for a second before you thought about something.
“What if I’m the one that’ll mess everything up?” You asked him and then your mind traveled back to that night— you basically running away from everything, and Steve accepting that and walking away from it all too. Why would he want to try again with you? “Actually, never mind, I think I already did.”
“No, you didn’t,” Eddie reassured you, and for once it was hard to believe his words. “When are you gonna see him again?”
You thought for a second. “A little bit on Friday because we both have to volunteer at the Winter Carnival thing, but I doubt I’ll be able to have an actual conversation with him there. But, I’ll see him Saturday for the last soccer game and then later that night because we’re gonna take the kids to the carnival.”
“Okay, be honest with him there.”
“You make doing that sound so easy, Munson.”
“I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy— especially after all of the shit you went through with Olly’s dad. And it’s pretty clear that a lot of that happiness does come from Steve,” Eddie told you and for the first time, you didn’t have the urge to deny those words. “If you’re honest with him and he’s understanding and likes you too much to let you go, then everything works out and that’s great. Or, if you’re honest and it turns out that he thinks you did mess everything up too much and doesn’t wanna be with you, then fuck Harrington too and I’ll also beat his ass.”
“For once, I actually believe that you did have a “bad boy” phase.”
“I told you. I used to be such a badass,” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice. “But, seriously, just know that I’ll be there for you no matter what scenario happens, so don’t worry about which one does. Also, just know that if, when I see you next week for Christmas, you haven’t said anything to him and there’s been no resolution to this situation yet, I will only let Oliver stay with me. You can find a hotel somewhere.”
“I promise I’ll say something,” You told him, and it truly didn’t feel like you were lying, and Eddie could tell that too.
When the call ended moments later and you placed your phone down next to your laptop, you looked at the picture again.
You no longer felt startled seeing you and Steve like this— so smitten and happy. It made you feel content, at ease even. You felt yourself smile a little, and it was like you were a little kid with a crush all over again; which, technically, had been the case for the last month, but now you were aware of it and it felt weirdly good.
You realized then that it was a mistake pulling away from Steve that night. A big mistake that you sincerely hoped you could recover from because you no longer wanted to run away. And you hoped Eddie was right in saying that it actually wasn’t too late and you didn’t completely mess everything up.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
There hadn’t been a right moment all night. Or maybe you were just getting too into your head about everything.
In the handful of days leading up to the Winter Carnival, it was hard to keep your mind off of Steve. Instead of beginning to second guess yourself and becoming unsure of everything— like you expected to happen since feeling like this again was so foreign to you— it all only became more and more certain. Your mind was the clearest it had been in such a long time; it was almost as if once you decided to no longer avoid how you felt, the rest just seemed to fall into place.
However, when Saturday night finally came around and you met up with Steve in the grassy parking lot of the large field where the carnival was happening, your focus was solely on Oliver and Madeline. Seeing how happy and content they were going on the few rides that were set up and playing the games, made it easy to forget what you needed to do. And it also made a part of you not want to do it— not want to change things; potentially for the worse if Steve actually didn’t feel the same way or no longer wanted anything to happen. But then you’d think about that picture and what Eddie said, and you knew that you had to find that moment to finally be honest, no matter what the outcome would be.
But still, no moment had been the right one. Not the moment where there was a brief lull of silence between you and Steve when Olly and Maddie were intensely focused on playing whack-a-mole, and not the moment where you and Steve quietly watched from the sidelines as they went on the train ride that just went round and round in a wide circle for a few minutes. And not even now when the night had finally come to its end and you both were about to drive away and leave.
The kids were fast asleep in their car seats and you and Steve lingered by the front of your cars. He had already said his goodnight to you and you reluctantly said the same, and you knew that he was about to turn and step inside his car— you could tell by the small smile he gave you— so you had to finally say something
“Wait, um, before you go. I wanted to say…” You trailed off for a second and then you were speaking before you even realized what you were saying. “Do you want to go on a date sometime?”
Right as the question left your lips, you felt like an idiot. That was not what you were supposed to say; at least, not first. For a moment, Steve only looked at you, confused. Your question lingered harshly in the cold Winter air and you were about to take it back and start from the beginning, the actual beginning, but Steve finally said something.
“A date? Like, a real date?” He asked after what felt like the longest stretch of silence that you thought you’d ever experienced, and when you only nodded in response, because you were too nervous to say anything more right then, he said, “What’s changed since the open mic night? After that, I was pretty sure that you didn’t feel anything for me.”
“I’m sorry. I know this sounds like it’s coming entirely out of nowhere. I had this whole long thing planned to say, and I messed up and started at the end instead of the beginning because I’m an idiot,” You sighed and then pulled your phone out of your coat pocket. “Can I send you something? It’s one of the pictures from that night that the photographer took.”
If Steve didn’t already think that this entire moment was insane, he probably did now, but he still said, “Okay.”
You sent him the picture that had now been sitting in your camera roll since Wednesday and then tucked your phone back into your pocket, eyes back on Steve and waiting for his reaction.
“Oh,” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth. Other than the clear surprise, it was hard to read his expression right then. “Oh, wow.”
“That was probably my exact reaction when I saw it too,” You said, letting out a small laugh that felt entirely too awkward, but you pushed past it. “Okay, now here’s the very long-winded speech that I’ve been kinda rehearsing in my head for the past few days and I hope I don’t mess it up this time.” You took a breath and didn’t let your gaze break from his. “I like you, Steve. A lot. That picture kind of says it all, and it gave me the much-needed push to stop being so oblivious toward everything. The reason that I pulled away that night wasn’t because I don’t feel anything for you, it was because I do feel everything for you— and that’s terrifying as hell. Because you already know about everything that happened between me and Oliver’s dad, and it was one of the hardest things I ever had to go through. I loved him and he hurt me and pretty much ruined the entire way I viewed love and relationships. I never thought that I would want to date again, and I honestly wanted to just avoid it entirely, but now here you are.”
You took a breath, probably your first one in the past minute and a half. “And although doing this right now still does kinda scare the crap out of me, it’s an okay kind of scary— if that makes sense. The thought of finally starting over and starting something with you doesn’t feel as terrifying as I thought it would. Instead, it feels really exciting. And I hope that me running away that night didn’t completely mess things up between us before they really even got the chance to start.”
As your final words left your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from Steve’s.
He was quiet for what felt like forever, but you knew that he was just processing everything you said, which was a lot, and the overall length felt equivalent to a speech that you had to give in high school during your History class. That had been such a nerve-wracking moment, and you remembered nearly throwing up once you were finished speaking and sitting back at your desk— this time also felt sort of similar to that. But, in this moment, it also felt like the biggest weight was lifted off of your shoulders, so you didn’t regret your words at all.
The longer you waited for Steve to say something, anything, the more you got the urge to tell him that it was okay if he wanted to reject you— the prolonging silence made you feel like that would be the inevitable thing to happen right then. It wouldn’t be the outcome you wanted, and you’d leave this makeshift parking lot partially devastated, but also with your head held high, at least, because you had been honest and you tried.
The words were about to leave your lips— the same ones he said to you that night; “It’s okay”— but then he smiled at you, a soft smile that managed to too easily warm you up from the inside out, and then he shook his head. “You didn’t ruin everything.”
“Really?”
“Really,” He said, and it was that reassurance that made you inwardly let out a breath. “I completely understand why you’ve been scared— a part of me is really scared too because of everything that happened last year. There was barely any sort of a relationship left between me and Maddie’s mom before she left, but that didn’t really make going through that any easier. I trusted her and a part of me loved her, and in the beginning, I hoped that she would come back— maybe more for Maddie’s sake than mine. Once I fully accepted that she wasn’t, and deep down I think I always knew that, I never thought that I’d fall for someone else so soon. But, it was almost too easy to fall for you— and I think it started happening before I could even realize it was happening. And like you said, that picture pretty much says it all. So, yes to the date. Definitely yes.”
It was hard not to smile at his final words. It made you want to kiss him, but that felt like it was something that should be saved for a different moment entirely.
You stepped closer to him and pushed yourself up on your toes, letting your arms loop around his neck and hugging him instead. It seemed almost instinctual how quickly Steve’s arms came up to circle your waist.
You two had hugged a few times before, usually they were quick and in lieu of a “Goodbye” or “See you later,” and they were typically never anything more or less than a side hug. But, this one was completely different, it definitely didn’t say goodbye or see you later. Instead, it somehow managed to say a thousand other things.
How tightly Steve held you, told you that he wouldn’t even think about hurting you or breaking your heart, and it also let you know that Eddie was right about you being able to trust Steve completely.
And how your face was buried in Steve’s neck, fully taking in his scent, told him that he didn’t need to be scared of how quickly he was falling for you, the past wouldn’t repeat itself.
Both of you had your shitty pasts, that in some ways you both were still recovering from, but it didn’t mean that you had to disregard or push aside what this was— these strong feelings you two had. Neither of you would say it out loud just yet, but it was clear that you loved each other.
It was way too soon to put those three words out there, but they didn’t have to be said for both of you to know that they already existed so prominently between you two. The long embrace managed to say it all.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Things were left fairly open-ended that Saturday night because it was quickly discovered that your schedules were way too busy with work and holiday plans to do something as soon as you both wanted to. And then, after a few texts and a late-night FaceTime call, it was decided that you’d see each other and plan things out when you and Oliver got back on the twenty-seventh from spending Christmas in California.
You wanted so badly to kiss him when you saw him for the first time after a week of nothing but texts and sporadic phone calls— and that feeling only increased tenfold when you noticed the bouquet of daisies in his hand. But you couldn’t kiss him in a coffee shop full of people, so you settled for a hug instead, where he very subtly whispered in your ear how badly he also wanted to kiss you at that moment.
He and Madeline stayed for most of that afternoon. She played board games in a booth with Oliver, and Steve helped you out with little tasks you had to do since, on that day, it was just you working in the coffee shop. It was hours full of lingering touches— his hand brushing against your waist or hip at the most random of moments, and you standing almost flush next to him and your hands continuously grazing his as you showed him how to work the coffee machine— and long looks that made your brain feel fuzzy.
Both of you were standing in the back kitchen area when one of his hands found yours after you finished putting a sheet of cookies in the oven. “I already have an idea for what I want us to do for our date.”
You stepped a little closer to him and found his other hand to intertwine it with yours. “Since I asked you on the date, I think that I should be the one to plan it.”
“You can plan the second one,” He told you and it was hard not to smile at that. “So, when’s the next night you’re free?”
“New Year’s Eve, actually. We’re gonna be closed here then, and New Year’s Day too.”
Steve nodded. “Okay, perfect.”
Now that night had finally rolled around, and in comparison to the anticipation you’d been feeling for the last few days about it, a good kind of nervousness was coursing through your body as you hurried down the stairs when the doorbell rang at seven o’clock.
Oliver was already in the living room playing Connect Four with your next door neighbor, Natalie, who was almost always willing to babysit him for you. And she didn’t even seem to mind doing it tonight, even though it was New Year’s Eve, because she said that it would get her out of going to this party with her parents at her dad’s job. You still promised to pay her double the amount you usually gave her.
“I left some money to order a pizza,” You told Natalie as you quickly put your shoes on, a pair of boots that stopped just below your knee and nicely complimented the short length of the dress you were wearing, and then you grabbed your coat and purse. “Call or text me if anything happens or you need something, you know the usual.”
“Got it,” She responded with a quick nod as she made her next move in the game.
“I’ll see you later, Olly. Are you still gonna try and stay up until midnight?”
Oliver smiled up at you and nodded. “Yup.”
“Good luck,” You said, smiling back at him.
You opened the front door and were immediately met with the sight of Steve standing at your doorstep, wearing a nice pair of black jeans and a coat over his long-sleeved white button-up shirt.
You closed and locked the door behind you before turning to look at him again, a small smile on your face. “Hi.”
“Hi,” He told you and then his gaze traveled down your body for a brief second before meeting your eyes again. “You look really great.”
His words let you know that you definitely made the right decision about pulling out the red strapless dress that had been sitting in your closet for the past year. It had no real reason to come out until now; for a date with someone that you really liked. And even after a year, it still looked great on you, hugged your body in all the right places, and made you feel really good. This was the first time in a long time that you were out of your typical “mom attire,” simple jeans and a plain t-shirt that was typically covered by an apron, and you wanted to look extra nice tonight; even if you and Steve wouldn’t be doing something fancy or extravagant.
“Thank you,” You responded, smiling wider at him. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but as long as it’s not a hike or paintball, I think I should be fine.”
“Don’t worry, I think high-intensity things like that are usually saved for third dates,” He said playfully.
“Oh, yeah, that’s so true,” You said, matching his tone and nodding. “But, if you force me to go on a hike for our third date, I’ll never go out with you again.”
“Okay, got it. Is paintball still on the table, though?”
“Sure.”
“Great, so I won’t have to cancel our reservation in three weeks,” He responded, and the over-dramatic sigh in relief he let out made you laugh a bit.
It was almost embarrassing how easily Steve made you feel like you were back in middle school and crushing on the boy in your Math class. You hoped Josh Miller was doing well wherever he currently was because right then, as Steve reached out his hand and you slipped yours into his open palm, you knew for a fact that you were.
“Do I finally get to find out what we’re doing tonight?” You asked once you were settled in the passenger seat of his car.
Steve shook his head. “You’ll see once we get there.”
You sighed but still nodded. “The anticipation is killing me, just so you know.”
“Please don’t die before I get to show you everything.”
That got a smile from you. “I’ll try my hardest not to.”
The drive was only about fifteen minutes— with you controlling the radio the entire time, and Steve’s hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel resting on your exposed thigh, and his thumb lightly stroking the bare skin throughout most of the ride. It was an action that essentially made your brain short circuit and was the reason why you had accidentally stopped on a station playing country music for longer than you intended. Your brain only started working again when the car was parked and you noticed that you were in his driveway.
You looked at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Usually, you bring the person back to your house at the end of the date, not the beginning, Harrington. How long has it been since the last time you did this?”
“Ha ha,” He said with a playful roll of his eyes at your sarcastic question. “The date is actually happening here, so that rule doesn’t really apply to this situation.”
“Okay, fair,” You responded, nodding. Your mind was already starting to run through the possibilities of what he had set up for you in his house.
“I’ll be right back, I just need to check something really quick first,” He told you and you only nodded again.
Steve was barely gone for five minutes before he was opening the passenger door for you and helping you step out of the car.
“Can I cover your eyes?”
“You’re actually making me really nervous now, but I’ll allow it,” You answered and he stepped behind you, covering your eyes with his hands.
“I think I might be more nervous than you,” He whispered, lips brushing your ear, which sent something equivalent to a shiver down your spine and you were glad that you had your coat on because it hid your goosebumps.
“Impossible,” You told him. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I hate surprises?”
“Yes, because now I don’t believe you.”
He was right to not believe you because that was technically a lie, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t still nervous about what this surprise would be.
You expected him to guide you up the front steps of his house, but instead, you were led a different way, to the backyard. At some point, Steve stopped you both, but he still kept covering your eyes as he began talking.
“Okay, so the initial idea I had was that we go to a drive-in movie theater because I feel like movies are kind of our thing at this point, and going to just a normal theater would be boring. But, the closest drive-in is over an hour away, and there was one specific movie I wanted us to watch anyway, so I decided to just set something up here.”
He pulled his hands away then and you opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was
the large blanket set up in the middle of the backyard, there were a bunch of pillows on it along with a few folded up blankets and you noticed the plastic bowl full of candy and bucket of popcorn too. You then saw the projector screen that was set up a few feet in front of the blanket and the movie that was already queued up on it. Since it was currently paused, you could see the name in the top left corner— The Parent Trap. Everything was perfect, and you were about to tell Steve exactly that, but he started talking again before you could.
“And I know you’re dressed up really nice right now, which means that you were probably expecting us to do something fancy, so I’m sorry if this is kind of a disappointment. But, I promise next time I’ll take you to the fanciest restaurant ever and—”
You cut off his rambling by turning to him and kissing his cheek. “This is the most thoughtful thing I think anyone has ever done for me. I love this.”
He smiled and you could see the happy relief washing over his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” You nodded, smiling back at him.
You pulled off your coat and slipped off your shoes and then grabbed one of the folded blankets to wrap around yourself before sitting down.
“Maddie helped with a lot of the setup. She told me to add more pillows and blankets so that everything could feel really cozy,” Steve told you and you nodded at that, saying a quick, “She was very right.” “Also, I wasn’t sure what type of candy was your favorite, so I got a little bit of everything.”
You grabbed the first stray bag of Skittles that you were able to find in the plastic bowl. “These are probably my favorite, but I do kinda like everything.”
“Okay, good to know for next time,” He said and there was something about the mention of “next time” that made your heart happily feel as if it was about to burst in your chest.
Steve walked over to where the projector and his laptop were set up on his patio table so that he could start the movie. When he sat down right next to you, you gave him some of your blanket and he didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you as the opening credits and song started playing.
The cold got to you quicker than you expected it to. You shifted a bit so that your legs were draped over Steve’s lap, you were almost sitting in his lap with how close you were. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his warmth and the blanket that was draped over you both engulf you completely. But when the blanket and his own body heat still weren’t enough to keep you warm, he went inside and grabbed a hoodie for you to wear.
Not even halfway through the movie, you could feel his gaze solely on you; maybe it was to make sure that you were comfortable, which you were, or maybe it was to make sure that you were enjoying everything, which you also were.
You looked at him, an amused smile on your face. “You should be watching the movie, not me.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything— just simply kept looking at you, admiring you— until he finally did say something. “I know that this is completely breaking first date etiquette and another one of the “rules,” but I really wanna kiss you right now.”
You were nodding before the final words even managed to leave his lips. “Do it.”
One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and he simply stared at you for a second before tilting your head up a bit and leaning in to softly slot his lips against yours. It was slow at first, like you both really wanted to savor this moment since it was the first time this was ever happening.
Pushing yourself impossibly closer to him, your mouths moved against each other so seamlessly, almost as if this wasn’t the first time this was happening between you two— there was absolutely no confusion or uncertainty laced within this intimate moment.
Steve pulled away slowly too, which elicited a soft and quiet whine from you. A sound that managed to oh so easily flip the switch for the both of you. From there, things became much more desperate and needy, as if you were two teenagers who just discovered what making out was. Your mouth hungrily found his that second time and his hand moved from your face and went down to grip your hip.
For the most part, the movie became long forgotten, but there were some moments where you would abruptly pull away from Steve and claim that you two were “missing the good part of the movie,” and you’d force your attention back to that. It would always only be for a moment though, because before you knew it, you were back to looking at Steve and smiling at him and kissing his cheek or jaw or nose before eagerly finding his lips.
Neither of you noticed when the credits started rolling. Your heads were against one of the pillows and legs were tangled beneath the two blankets that were over you both. One of your hands found home in the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, and one of his hands had snaked underneath the hoodie and was squeezing your waist.
You pulled back from the kiss, mainly to catch your breath, and Steve’s mouth immediately began attacking your jaw and then neck. You had to bite your lip for a second to keep from letting out any noise. “We’re probably giving your neighbors a very good show right now.”
You felt Steve let out a laugh against your skin. “It’s a good thing that there are old married couples on both sides, so they’re all probably in bed asleep by now.”
You hummed in response. “Mm, that’s very good to know.”
You were about to pull back a bit so that you could then lean in and kiss him again, but then you managed to realize something and you turned your head toward the projector screen. “The movie’s over.”
“Oh,” Steve looked at the final credit screen that the movie ended on. “Good thing we’ve seen it before because I don’t think we watched any of it tonight.”
You smiled at him. “Your face made it really hard to pay attention to the movie. I think we’ll need to go back to watching stuff on the phone in order for us to actually watch a movie.”
“Never gonna happen,” He said before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I don’t have my phone on me, but I think it’s probably almost ten. What time do I need to get you home?”
“Oliver luckily didn’t give me a curfew,” You jokingly answered, which made a soft laugh fall from Steve’s lips. “But, seriously, Natalie told me that she’s fine with staying at the house as long as I need. For some reason, she really likes sleeping in the guest room once Oliver’s in bed. Even though tonight he wants to try and stay up until midnight to watch the ball drop, so I don’t know when he’ll actually end up in bed.”
“Maddie’s trying to do the same thing at my parent’s house, but she’ll probably fall asleep before eleven, if she’s not already,” He said and that made you smile because you were pretty sure the same thing would happen with Oliver. Steve’s hand then found yours beneath the blanket and gave it a light squeeze. “So, we should…”
“We should go inside,” You finished for him and quickly pressed a kiss to his nose before detangling yourself from him and standing up. “I can help you clean up all of this first if you want.”
“I’ll do it in the morning,” He said and you nodded at that as he stood up too.
You didn’t mind leaving your shoes and coat outside for the time being, but you grabbed your phone from your purse so that you could check it and make sure that everything was going okay with Oliver. You immediately saw that Natalie texted you almost thirty minutes ago telling you that he fell asleep, which made you laugh a bit. You quickly texted something back to her and then placed your phone down on Steve’s kitchen island when you walked through the sliding doors that led from the backyard to the kitchen.
Steve walked over to where you were leaning against the island. He slipped his hands underneath the hoodie of his that you were still wearing so that he could grab your hips, and your arms came up to lazily circle his neck. He was the one who initiated the kiss that time around.
How comfortable and okay you were right then and how completely comfortable you had been the entire night was something that slightly surprised you as much as it made you feel so fucking happy. It was hard not to recognize that this was the first time in a long time that you felt this way— and that should’ve made things feel at least a little scary; like they would’ve felt just a few weeks ago— but instead that realization gave you a small burst of confidence in that moment.
You pulled back a bit, eyes still shut and lips lightly brushing his. “Y’know, I really love that we’re already at your house.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm,” You nodded, eyes opening and then you stepped away from him and slipped your hand into his. You started leading him toward the stairs and you wondered if it was entirely obvious that you were heading to his bedroom. You already knew where it was because you had accidentally found it the first time you and Oliver came over for a playdate— you had been looking for the bathroom and mistakenly chose the door on the left instead of the right. “It makes this part a lot easier.”
“What’s this part?” He asked and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
You turned to him when you were in front of his closed door. You gave him a look that said everything— everything you wanted from him right then and everything you wanted to give him— before reaching up and softly kissing his cheek.
It was dark when you both walked into his bedroom and Steve flicked on the small lamp that was sitting on his nightstand. You were lingering by the foot of the bed and he once again closed all of the space between you two, his hands found the hem of the hoodie and immediately pushed it up and off of you. He slowed down when his fingers found the zipper on the back of your dress. A questioning look that asked “Is this okay?” crossed his face, and you quickly nodded. Somehow the minor action sent an inadvertent shiver down your spine— Steve letting the red material fall to the floor and leaving you in just your strapless bra and underwear before softly pushing you down so that you were sitting on the bed. You started helping him unbutton his shirt so that he could push it off of his shoulders and let it hit the floor as well.
Your hands then found his belt buckle, fumbling around with it and then proceeding to unbutton his pants and snake your right hand within them. Steve’s groan was loud and it sent a chill through your body as you touched him and felt him grow stiffer in his boxers due to all of your soft, teasing strokes.
After just a moment, he reached for your hand, halting your movements, and then leaned down to kiss you, removing his pants in the process. Once he was left in just his navy blue boxers you maneuvered upward so that your head was hitting one of his pillows at the top of the bed and he settled on top of you between your now spread legs.
Steve’s lips brushed against your forehead and then cheek before he pulled back and simply looked at you. “You’re so fucking pretty.”
You didn’t feel an ounce of nervousness under his gaze, which said and told you so much, and it actually felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” You whispered, tilting your head upward a bit so that your lips could meet his in a quick kiss.
When your bra was discarded on the floor somewhere along with your underwear, you found yourself begging for him. Soft “pleases” fell from your lips as he teased you— softly rubbing your nipple in small circles and only stroking your inner thighs with the most featherlight of touches, getting so close to where you wanted him most. And feeling his hard length, which was still covered by his boxers, pressing against you only made your want grow more. You knew for a fact that you were making the worst mess against his comforter because of how much you were dripping for him.
“Steve,” You let out a soft sigh, eyes screwed shut. “I need you. Please.”
“Mhm, yeah, anything for you,” He said, moving away from you for a second. Your eyes opened and you immediately missed his warmth enveloping you completely. He was ridding himself of his boxers and then began rummaging around in his nightstand drawer for a condom.
You were smiling at him when he settled back on top of you and he gave you a small smile back.
“You sure this is okay?” He asked, and you could hear the sudden shyness take over his voice.
“Yes, I promise. I want this. I want you,” You told him, nodding profusely. He needed that reassurance and you completely understood why. Your voice was soft as you said your next words. “You sure this is okay?”
He pressed the softest kiss against your forehead. “So much better than okay.”
For some reason, those simple words made your heart flutter wildly in your chest. He looked down for a second, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, and then his eyes met yours again as he slowly pushed himself inside of you.
“Fuck,” You wanted so badly to shut your eyes, but you also didn’t want to break his gaze.
There was so much shared in the dreamy and lust-filled look you two were holding. You were hit with the sudden need to never have this to end. Not just the sex, but simply being with Steve— talking, laughing, playfully arguing as you debated random shit that didn’t matter. You wanted all of that with him for as long as you could have it.
It was too early to even truly entertain the potential of a forever with him, but it was something that could happen and it was hard not to let your mind wander for a bit.
You could see it all, and so easily too— your lives blending and becoming so deeply intertwined. You didn’t expect yourself to fall so goddamn hard for him so quickly, but it felt nice feeling so entirely certain about it all.
“What are you thinking about, honey?” Steve whispered, breaking through your thoughts and eyes still looking so deeply into yours. He was still moving slowly but was also hitting so deeply inside of you with every languid thrust that it elicited the softest whines and mewls from you.
“Everything,” You told him honestly, but didn’t explain further because you were then shutting your eyes and letting your mind turn to mush. A particularly hard thrust had your back arching off the bed and a gasp falling from your lips. “Shit, yes, right there.”
“I think about everything with you all the time,” Steve said, lips finding yours and swallowing the loud moans you let out upon hearing his words— right then, that was the only way that you could verbalize how much you loved hearing him say that. He started moving quicker, losing control inside of you, which you didn’t mind in the slightest because it only made you wetter. “I want it all so badly.”
You could feel yourself nodding at him, it still felt way too hard to open your eyes. “Me too.”
Your walls squeezed harshly around his cock when one of his hands snaked down to find your clit, rubbing it in tight circles with his thumb and almost immediately pushing you so close to the edge.
“You gonna come for me, honey?” Steve asked with a groan and when you only mumbled out a barely coherent “yes” and “please,” he started circling your clit quicker before saying, “Do it. Come for me.”
It hit you so fucking hard. You were moaning loudly, practically screaming, as stars flooded your vision and your body almost immediately felt as if it was floating. How tightly you were squeezing Steve’s cock as you came only spurred on his own release, forehead dropping against yours as he pushed as deep as he could inside of you and spilled into the condom.
Your lips haphazardly found his in a slow kiss as you both came down from your highs and your breathing returned mostly to normal. His weight crushed you in the most peaceful way possible before he was slipping out of you and then pulling your back flush against his chest. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but with Steve’s arms around you in the most comforting way, you did almost immediately.
When you woke up, it had barely been an hour and the only reason you knew that was because the TV was now on and the live New Year’s Eve special was playing. You got up to go to the bathroom and then slipped on Steve’s white button-up shirt, only buttoning a few of the buttons, before getting back in bed.
“Hi,” You whispered, head settling against his chest and his arms immediately came up to circle around you.
“Hey,” He whispered back and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You draped your leg over his hips to push yourself even closer to him. “Ten minutes to midnight. Should I take you home after?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” You answered softly. “I wish I could stay.”
“Me too,” Steve said as one of his hands started lightly rubbing up and down against the curve of your hip. “One day, though.”
You smiled at that, tilting your head up a bit and kissing his jaw. “I can’t wait for that.”
Years down the road you’d both think back to this moment.
When you’re laying in bed together in the house that you two moved into just weeks earlier, something bigger that would better fit your growing family. Oliver and Madeline would be fast asleep in their rooms down the hall from yours and their newborn sister would only be a few feet away from you and Steve, finally asleep in her bassinet.
You’d be the one to bring up this night— how it was both the start of something and the end of something else— and he’d smile at you immediately and start absentmindedly playing with the ring on your finger. How it had been the start of a relationship that neither of you truly saw coming and how it brought a slow but steady end to the fears that both of you had.
Steve would softly say that even though he’d been a little scared to tell you that night, he had known then— as he was dropping you off at your house close to one in the morning and softly kissing you goodnight on your doorstep— that he wanted to be with you forever. And you’d tell him that you had felt the exact same way, that you even ended up dreaming about it all that night like a lovesick teenager.
That would make him kiss you, slowly and tenderly; something that never failed to make your head feel dizzy.
Before you and him fell asleep too, just for a few hours before Luna woke both of you up, you would tell Steve that you were glad that Oliver and Madeline asked to have a playdate during that oddly warm day in September four years ago because that simple thing changed everything between you two. Your eyes would already be shut as you sleepily whispered how much you loved him and he’d smile while telling you that he loved you too. He’d then laugh a bit and say that it was the sleep deprivation making you extra sentimental right then but he was completely okay with that. His soft and sweet words of, “I’m also so glad that those playdates changed everything,” would be the last thing you remember hearing before you fully fell asleep, and it put the softest smile on your face.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
let me know ur thoughts<333
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fic#dad!steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington series#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things fluff#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader smut#stranger things smut#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic
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Buddie Fanfic Recs 3
Here are my favorite buddie fics, I will be updating this as I read~
Check Part 1 and Part 2 for more
(last updated: 07/10/24 - 30 fics)
10k words or under
still by brewrosemilk
(9,368 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still
If You Said I Do I Would Too by giselleslash
(5,894 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
Eddie starts telling people Buck’s his husband to get out of annoying flirting situations on calls. Buck starts to like it a little too much.
platonic co-parents don’t kiss like we do by thelikesofus
(7,113 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)
Chimney wants it on public record that if he ever goes to therapy the bill is to be sent to Buck and Eddie, and that should he ever end up in an early grave for reasons related to his co-workers and their absolutely unhinged inability to act like normal people they will also be paying for all of the flowers at the funeral—and Chimney wants a lot of flowers. OR 5 times other people see Buck and Eddie kiss + 1 time they really mean it.
baby, say you'll always keep me by hattalove
(8,251 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
“Yeah,” Eddie says, and the darkness behind his eyelids takes on a white edge. “Be good. Nice to be married,” he yanks on Buck’s t-shirt, “best friend.” Finally, Buck takes a breath that sounds off somehow, but he laughs too, and that sounds normal, Eddie thinks. A normal laugh. “Sure, Eds,” he says, and there’s his hand in Eddie’s hair again, a puff of breath on the crown of Eddie’s head like Buck leaned in to press a kiss there and then stopped, but why would he stop—“I’ll marry you if you remind me tomorrow.” or the one in which joking about being married to your best friend is all fun and games, right up until you realize that you're not laughing.
the book of love by colonoscopys
(8,075 words | General Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
It was a pretty regular day. He had an eight hour shift the day before, slept in a little bit, ate dry toast and drank a black coffee before dropping Chris off at physical therapy for an hour. If he had known he was gonna die, he would have sprung for the hashbrowns in the freezer.
I'll Take "Sounds I Wish I'd Never Heard" For $500, Alex by Kwills91
(5,582 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
Buck and Eddie get together through grindr...but not the way you'd think OR Buck hears the Grindr notification sound on Eddie's phone - several times - and inevitably has a crisis about it.
an inch away from more than just friends by allyasavedtheday
(9,963 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
“I think Eddie’s in love with me.” She gapes at him, mouth working for a response that doesn’t come until Chimney beats her to it. “Eddie’s what?” Maddie claps her mouth shut, stepping aside to let Buck through. Chimney’s on the floor in the living room with Jee playing with her tea set. “You’re not involved in this conversation,” Buck says, pointing at him. “It’s your fault in the first place for even putting the idea in my head.” Maddie apparently finally finds her voice, appearing at Buck’s side and looking between them. “I’m sorry, what? How did Chim put the idea in your head?” “Him and Hen!” Buck exclaims, waving a hand. “They told me I should pay attention to how much Eddie wants to be around me.” “And you took that to mean he’s in love with you?” Chimney asks incredulously. * In which Buck has a clipboard and a list and is about to romance the hell out of Eddie Diaz.
by any other name by coldbam
(7,618 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)
“Eddie, this guy—he gave me my name.” Eddie’s eyebrows crease together. “Buck here is forgetting the full introduction.” Bailey steps forward and extends his hand to Eddie. “Evan Bailey, 178. I go by Evan now.” He winks, and he’s still got Eddie’s hand grasped in his, the handshake going on a lot longer than necessary. But Bailey always liked to make an impression, especially with— Well, especially with guys he thought were hot. * Eddie meets one of those other Evans from Buck's academy class. Buck is totally normal about it.
11k-40k words
I can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by smilingbuckley
(29,353 words | Explicit | Chapters: 6/6)
Eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. Not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and Buck plan to fake date. They put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with PDA, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to El Paso. But faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all. -- He fully blames his rom-com brain, having just watched The Proposal – the fake dating classic, if you ask him or Chimney. “What if I’m your fake date?” Eddie’s head snaps sideways so fast, Buck worries about whiplash. “What?” Buck shrugs, trying to play it cool, but really, his heart is beating loudly in his chest. “I mean, people sometimes already think we’re a couple. We’re very comfortable around each other, so sharing a bed or holding hands wouldn’t be too bad. That way your family could back off. And, I don’t know, maybe a few weeks after, you say we decided to just be friends and leave it at that. Or you don’t and they’ll back off full-time with the dates.” Eddie stares at him, “You’d do that for me?” “Sure,” Buck answers, like it’s no big deal.
you could call me babe for christmas ('tis the damn season) by prettyboybuckley
(30,268 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 2/2)
"You could come with me," Buck blurts out, his own eyes going wide as he processes what he just said. Eddie looks at him with his mouth hanging open, eyebrows slowly creasing into a frown and Buck's mind grapples for an explanation, even if the reason he said it is quite simple: he always feels safer with Eddie by his side. "My parents want me to come to El Paso," Eddie says, and he looks like the words taste bitter in his mouth. "I'd love to get out of that, but I can't just leave Christopher with Abuela or Pepa while I run to Pennsylvania. Never mind that my parents would never accept it without a good reason." "Christopher can come, of course." OR: Buck and Eddie pretend to be dating as Buck takes the Diaz boys along to Hershey. Once there, things get a little out of hand, and Buck comes to a realization...
Ready-made Family by Dark_Rosaleen
(15,884 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 6/6)
“Sure, I love the zoo.” Chris is saying with that perfectly adorable giggle that makes Eddie want to melt whenever he hears it—which is far too infrequently these days. “My dad takes me there all the time.” Eddie’s head snaps up at that, quick and sharp. His fingers go numb and he scrambles uselessly with the tongs as they fall with a loud clatter against the grill. Because Eddie can count the times he’s been to the zoo on one hand. It’s Buck who’s been taking Christopher there nearly once a week for years.
change the prophecy by Daisies_and_Briars
(30,150 words | Mature | Chapters: 12/12)
Buck has never felt secure in any of his relationships; he’s been searching for someone to see him the way he feels he’s meant to be seen, but after things start going downhill with Tommy, he thinks that person might just not exist. Eddie cannot figure out what’s wrong with him when it becomes clear things with Marisol aren’t going to work out. But what if they’re both forgetting something?
made your mark on me (a golden tattoo) by thatbuddie (talktothesky)
(15,010 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
“I want another tattoo.” Eddie shatters the silence delicately, careful not to disturb the peace that cocoons them. Pressing his hand further on Eddie’s shoulder, because he knows Eddie like no one has ever known him before, like no one will ever know him again, Buck asks, “Here?” Eddie nods, tightening his fingers around Buck’s forearm. “It’s kind of…” Eddie pauses to find the perfect words, until he realizes he doesn’t need them. “It’s kind of for you. And for me. For us. You could… I’d like you to get it too.” The corners of Buck’s lips curl in a soft smile as his fingers curl around Eddie’s shoulder. “I’d like to get it too.” (or, Buck and Eddie keep getting matching tattoos, and then discover that maybe everyone is right when they think it means something more.)
authentication by v_greyson (greyson)
(18,028 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)
"I think we should go clubbing again," Buck announces in between Forza races. "We have a Friday in the middle of our 96, it would be perfect." "You guys planning something?" Hen asks, coming over from the kitchen with a bowl of trail mix. "I'm trying to get Eddie to come pick up guys with me," Buck says. Hen's eyebrows arch high above her glasses. "Really," Hen says. "It's more of a wingman situation," Eddie tries to explain. "Yeah, Eddie picks the guys so I don't make stupid decisions," Buck says, flicking through menus to pick a new racetrack. The combination of Hen munching peanuts and looking back and forth between them makes Eddie feel like he's a zoo exhibit. Best Friends, captured in the wild, still feral, exhibiting behaviors heretofore unknown to science. "Well, good luck with - all that," Hen says pointedly to Eddie. She is definitely not talking about the video game.
keeping score by arcanaphora
(23,202 words | Mature | Chapters: 1/1)
“Bless your heart, you really are new to this. Good for y’all, though. I’m glad this ship is… accepting.” Eddie straightens in his seat. “What does that mean?” All four wince as a young man taps the microphone onstage. “Testing, testing,” he jokes. “Welcome to the Cruisin’ Couples Trivia Tournament!” The patrons around them cheer. Eddie digs his nails into Buck’s skin harsh enough to make him wince. “Oh,” he breathes. “This is for couples.” or: After getting dumped, Buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. Eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. All's fair in love, war, and trivia. OR or: The Cruise Fic
love letters to evan buckley by allwedontdo
(16,872 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)
“I want to ask Buck to marry me.” Christopher stares at Eddie, eyes so vibrantly blue in a way that reminds him of all the times that strangers would assume Buck was his father. Sometimes, he'd stand behind them in the grocery store and imagine Christopher was Buck's. That Buck was always theirs. All Christopher says that breaks Eddie out of his mind is, "Okay?” or Eddie has a question for the most important people in Buck’s life.
when everything's on fire by beartowns
(15,405 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
“Stay with me,” Buck blurts out the second Eddie’s eyes meet his. “We’ll pick up Chris after my shift ends in a couple hours, and you guys can—you can stay with me. Don’t get a hotel.” “Buck,” Eddie says, a searching look in his eyes. “You don’t have to do that. This is—this isn’t your mess to deal with, I can figure it out.” “I know I don’t have to,” Buck argues. “I want to.” or; Eddie and Chris move in with Buck after a fire. Buck breaks up with his boyfriend, buys a house with Eddie, and realizes he's in love. In precisely that order.
in love with every song you've ever heard by timeshareindestin
(19,223 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
Buck is fucking frozen. His mouth is dry, and his brain is blank except for oh no, oh fuck reverberating in his frontal lobe. He can’t answer. He feels the pressure against the metaphorical closet door, the hinges creaking against the weight of the boxes crashing down. “Are those… hearing aids?” He registers Eddie's voice through the ringing in his ears. It takes him a moment before he can finally whisper it out. He feels his head nod against his will. “Yeah.” The door gives out. or: how a conversation about tardigrades results in buck grappling with a disability he's suppressed, getting hearing aids, and realizing that the family he craves has been there for him all along. in that order.
What’s Your Love Language? by songbvrd
(18,332 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)
“Which do you think makes you feel most loved?” Eddie thought for a long moment. Too long, maybe. Then he shrugged, “Honestly, Buck? I have no idea.” Buck’s brows pinched up. “What do you mean? When have you felt the most loved?” “Don’t make a big thing of this, Buck. Promise?” Buck made a show of crossing his heart, brows still raised curiously. “I’m not sure I’ve ever… really felt loved in a relationship? I’m not convinced that I know what makes me feel loved…” OR - After finding out that Eddie doesn't know what his love language is, Buck sets about finding out for him. He begins a five week experiment, one for each love language, to figure out which will make Eddie feel the most loved.
we found love right where we were by Polish_Amber
40k+ words
(70,004 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 7/7)
May realised a very long time ago that Buck was basically her stepbrother. So, when the lightning strike finally provided the impetus for Bobby to admit that he also brought a kid into their family, she had every intention of seizing the opportunity to properly integrate Buck into the Grant-Nash family. And, look, if in the process she also gains a brother-in-law… clearly the universe was just waiting for the opportunity to make that happen. - Or, the one where May ensures Buck is enfolded properly into the Grant-Nash clan, which means Bobby (and by extension the firefam, because gossip) suddenly gets significantly more insight into the inner workings of the Buckley-Diaz family, and all roads lead to Buddie…
Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home by Daisies_and_Briars
(54,856 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Series - 3 parts)
Part 1: When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief. Part 2: When unexpected circumstances require Buck to travel back to Hershey for the first time in over a decade, Eddie and Chris are right by his side. Part 3: The dynamics between everyone change when Buck and Eddie have another child and Bobby moves on from the 118. Affectionately referred to as the "Grandpa Bobby fic"
Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars
(57,964 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 15/15)
After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime. Inspired by a mix of Marvel multiverses and The Midnight Library by Matt Haig.
and here, too, am i by Daisies_and_Briars
(41,117 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 4/4)
Six months into their marriage, Eddie is still struggling to decide whether or not he wants more kids, when he knows Buck does. The universe may not scream, but it certainly talks.
Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
(84,763 words | Explicit | Chapters: 18/18)
When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico." And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?" In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.
that magic feeling by woodchoc_magnum
(42,694 words | Explicit | Chapters: 2/2)
An alternate ending to season 7, in which Eddie doesn't completely blow his life up, and he and Buck realise they're in love.
something touched me (like a knife-blade) by kithmet
(42,076 words | Explicit | Chapters: 4/4)
“I feel fucking explosive, Buck. Like I’m about to go off at any second. I don’t want you caught in my mess.” His eyes sting. At the very least, Buck contains the sound of it in his voice. “Eddie, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he replies, “but I already am.” Eddie self-implodes. Christopher, seeking refuge, flees to Buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get Eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (Oh, and Tommy’s there too. He thinks.)
Descendants of Cyrano by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
(55,314 words | Explicit | Chapters: 1/1)
People have their characters romance each other all the time while playing Dungeons & Dragons. There's deep meaningful monologues and sometimes some crying. It's normal. "Normal" is definitely not the word for whatever Buck and Eddie are inflicting on the rest of the 118.
Held Up a Lightning Rod (Wonder Why I'm Struck) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
(128,759 words | Explicit | Chapters: 22/22)
When Eddie Diaz stumbles his way into money, he finds himself one of the most eligible bachelors in Los Angeles - to his dismay. He needs a way to get people off his back without confessing his messy marital situation, and Shannon's still not answering his calls, so he caves to a friend's suggestion: hire someone to pretend to be his partner. Enter Evan "Buck" Buckley: sugar baby, fire fighter, and the man about to turn Eddie's world upside down.
ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies
(58,577 words | Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 1/1)
Missing Chris is less of an emotion these days and more of a physical entity. He’s sure everyone can see that he’s slowly hollowing himself out, that he can’t do much of anything else. But when Jee laughs at him trying to get his tongue to touch his nose, and Mara loops one of her arms through his to keep him from tossing the rest of his cup in the garbage, Eddie feels solid again. Maybe he likes yellow birthday cake ice cream after all. (or, gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?)
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crazy fuckin' phenomenon | 18+
masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza
pairing | dbf!joel miller x reader
synopsis | after your dad abandons joel to watch instagram reels in the bathroom, an argument over the remote ends in a new discovery
warnings | excessive use of bigfoot as a plot device, dbf!joel, explicit sexual content, smut, age gap (20s/late 30s), play fighting with sexual tension, wedgies, humiliation, degradation, kink discovery, semi brat tamer!joel, almost getting caught, blue balls
word count | 2030
a/n | this was co-written with one of my favorite people ever but they wish to remain anonymous! this was so so so fun to work on and i think it really shows. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.
“Joel I swear to fucking god if I have to watch one more episode of Finding Bigfoot, I’m clawing my eyes out.”
There’s only so much bickering between Matt Moneymaker and Ranae Holland that you can take, and apparently, you’ve found your limit. Approximately five minutes. Joel had come over to hang out with your father, they had planned to watch some war movie because they’re fucking old, but, in typical dad fashion, your father had gotten up halfway through to use the bathroom. After 30 minutes, Joel couldn’t wait anymore and switched the TV to Animal Planet so he could watch Finding Bigfoot reruns. That was two hours ago, and you’ve now spent an hour on the couch with Joel, pleading for him to change it. Of course, your TV decides to stop working the one time your dad actually wants to use the living room TV. So, yeah, you can be a little bit of a drama queen.
“If you can drag your old man off ‘a the shitter, we can go back to watchin’ Come and See. Three fuckin’ hours, startin’ to think he pulled an Elvis.”
“Seriously, Joel,” you bellyache, slumping back into the couch. “Dunno why they’re looking for Bigfoot when he’s clearly right fucking here.” You shoot him a glare from across the couch.
“Uh huh,” Joel drones, either not listening or either not giving a fuck while he watches one of the camouflaged hosts do a shitty imitation of a sasquatch mating call.
Well, since he’s distracted…
With the stealth of a super spy, you lunge over Joel’s lap towards the side table, reaching past discarded beer bottles and hunting magazines for the hijacked remote. You snatch it right up, victorious for a few seconds at most.
“Now what in the hell do you think you’re doin’? Gonna put on fuckin’ Euphoria or something?” You don’t have time to come up with a witty response before you’re pinned down to the couch cushions. Joel’s hulking form hangs over you, shoulders broad and his hair messy as he gives you a smug look. Cursing the cavewoman part of you that gets butterflies in your stomach from how easily he overpowers you, you writhe underneath him.
“Joel what the fuck? Get off me you old fuck!” You groan, grunting in frustration as you try to maneuver Joel off of you. You’re weak as shit but you remember something from the self defense class you took in high school. You knee Joel in the chest, causing him to fall back, giving you a chance to roll off the couch and onto your knees. You look back as he coughs and gasps, trying to catch his breath.
“Oh you little shit!” Joel groans, getting off the couch and looming over you like a killer in a slasher fic. He smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side like Micheal Myers.
You feel your heart start to race and your cunt start to pulse. You turn back and start to crawl away but Joel leans down and grabs your ankle, pulling you back to him. You definitely feel like you’re in a slasher film now.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re not gettin’ away that easily…needa stop acting like such a little brat. Your daddy was never that good at discipline.”
You don’t know what you’re expecting. But Joel’s warm hands sneaking down the waistband of your denim cutoffs is not it. You cry out as his fingers loop around your purple thong, drawing it midway up your back. Pain sears up your ass, and much more dangerous, pleasure tingles in your cunt when the front of your thong slips between your folds. Kicking your legs, you smack your palm into the carpet underneath you. “Joel!” you gasp out in surprise.
Maddeningly, Joel chuckles at your struggle underneath him. He shifts to straddle your upper thighs, weighing you down even more. “What, ain’t ever had a wedgie before?” Another sharp tug makes your head drop to the floor. You fight not to give into your body’s base desire to arch your back. “With how often you run your mouth, I’m surprised your friends never ran you up the flagpole in the schoolyard.”
You scrunch your fingers in the fiber of the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to anything other than the searing pain in your ass and cunt. It doesn’t work. You can’t focus on anything but this cruel and unusual punishment. Your dad’s best friend, wedgieing you into obedience.
Somehow, he pulls even harder. All of that contracting work isn’t for nothing. You’re silently moaning now, mouth open and your forehead dipped to the floor, desperate pants flying in and out of your mouth. “Hmmm,” he hums. “Wonder if I could get these over your head. Bet you’d have an easier time watchin’ my show with that.”
“Please,” you rasp. Your brain wants you to beg for him to let you go. Your cunt wants you to beg for him to be meaner. To go all the way and snap them over your head, leaving you ass up and face down, split in half for his enjoyment. You short circuit before you can get any further into the plea, because he’s pulling your panties even higher in brutal bursts.
“Begging ain’t gonna help, honey. You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.”
The waistband gets halfway up your neck before Joel gives up. The tension in your body lessons as you melt into the floor. “You ain’t off the hook yet, missy,” Joel says, smirk evident in his voice.
He guides your arms through the leg holes of your panties, and you moan helplessly as he snaps them over your shoulders, leaving you in the equivalent of a wedgie bodysuit. You feel like you’re being split in half.
You can’t help it. You roll your hips, grinding into your panties and the floor. The pressure is everywhere and it’s perfect. Perfect against your burning asshole, your leaking cunt, and your throbbing clit. Every movement also propels you up against Joel, something you can’t even bring yourself to remember right now. You’re wet – unbelievably fucking wet. “What the hell are you doing to me?” you whine, still humping the floor as heat blossoms in your core.
Joel stiffens above you. “Are you…” He clears his throat, a rough noise. “Are you fuckin’ into this?”
The question alone makes you whimper.
Every rock of your hips has the wedgie slicing deeper, pulling you apart piece by piece from your most sensitive place. You arch your back properly, that way every time you go up, you can feel Joel’s bulge against your rear. Joel’s quickly hardening bulge as he watches you lose all of your dignity while humping the floor with your panties rammed up your ass.
“Shut the fuck up, Joel! I’m not into this…I just-” He cuts you off by flicking the string of your thong. Tellingly, you moan out.
“Just what? Just get off on getting split in half by your fuckin’ panties?”
You try to speak but he shoves you forward, pressing your face against the carpet and pinning you down, “Just shut your mouth, don’t want your daddy findin’ ya like this do ya? God, just imagine what he’d say…. Seein’ his precious ‘lil girl gettin’ all wet from a well-deserved wedgie up these plump fuckin’ cheeks.” His hand glides down between your ass cheeks and slaps against your denim-covered bottom. You jolt, moaning where he’s pressing your face into the carpet. You’ll be surprised if your drool isn’t soaking it.
“Joooooel,” you pout, still fighting underneath him. You kick your feet, and they barely graze the small of Joel’s back, a sort of flexibility you can’t afford very much of right now. “Can’t… can’t take much more. Hurts.”
“I’ll tell you what you can take, you little brat. You’re lucky you’re not hangin’ up by these,” Joel grabs the waistband of your light wash denim shorts, using it to lift you up off the floor while you grasp at the carpet in a poor attempt to stay on the ground.
It doesn’t work. Joel hauls you up, grabbing the front and back of your wedgie. You can’t stop yourself from moaning again, dimly away that your dad is still in the bathroom and still could walk out at any given time. You hope Joel’s good ear can hear if the toilet flushes, because you can’t hear a damn thing over your own pulse rocketing in your ears.
He yanks the back of your thong, and then the front, effectively flossing your ass crack and cunt. Your hands fly down to your thighs, but it’s not like you can do anything, because the next thing Joel does is lift you fully off the ground. You cry out, hastily clamping a hand over your mouth, and decide three things back to back to back.
One – fuck Joel Miller.
Two – fuck Joel Miller.
Three – you might actually really like this.
The third one you realize when you look down to see your arousal seeping through the denim. The humiliation stings on your cheeks with a sort of heat you’ve never felt in your life. He bounces you in the damn thing, pulling you up and down with a strength you’d never fathomed he could have.
You can’t stop yourself from grinding down when he brings you up, pulling your panties even deeper into your ass and cunt. You whine and grab at Joel’s forearm for purchase, nearly fucking yourself against the thin fabric that’s cutting you in half. Joel’s satisfaction at it all, the way you can feel him getting sadistically hard behind you from your cocktail of pain and pleasure, is what truly makes it for you. You buck against your panties even harder, letting out a truly ragged moan when it brushes your clit just right.
“You’re taking this so good, ain’t even cryin’ or nothin’. Should I hang you up? Get your eyes just as wet as your cunt? Could you even take it, or are you gonna cream your pretty little panties before I even get you on a hook?”
The answer is yes – you are going to cream your panties before he gets you on a hook.
Your orgasm rips through you violently, lighting you on fire as you hang in suspension and just take it. Ass burning and your cunt dripping like Niagara Falls, you clench and grind on your panties as desperately as you can to prolong your orgasm. Your eyes water, heart beating out of control. Joel’s hand cups your mound, heel rubbing against where your clit pulses. You’re still tremoring by the time you come down. Everything feels like it’s in technicolor, easily marking the most powerful orgasm of your life.
You realize Joel has deposited you back on the ground. It’s a miracle you’re even standing at all with how limp-boned you are. Chest rising and falling, you stumble back around to face Joel, whose cock is straining against his jeans. You’re about to put him out of his misery, not even taking the time to pick your wedgie as your hand flies towards his belt when you hear it –
Wooooooooshgluglgulglug.
You take your wedgie out like you’re racing to get rid of a ticking time bomb, frantically yanking it down your shoulders and tucking the strings into your waistband. Still burning up from your orgasm, blatantly freshly fucked, you give Joel a half-apologetic look (he had given you a hellish wedgie, after all) and scamper upstairs.
You barely acknowledge your dad as you brush past him. “Hey sweetie, goin’ back up?”
“Mhm,” you get out, almost tripping up the stairs.
“Hm, wonder what’s wrong with her,” you hear your dad reflect to Joel.
“No idea,” Joel says.
You’re about to close your door when you hear more commentary from downstairs. Your dad’s voice. “Woah there, man. Got a thing for bigfoot?”
Your eyebrows shoot to your goddamn hairline as your heartbeat spikes and your brain fills in the gaps.
“Fear boners, crazy fuckin’ phenomenon,” Joel says, just as casual as ever. Yeah. Crazy fucking phenomenon is right.
#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller/reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic
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When Cross Guild was formed, Crocodile failed to take into account how certain days were going to go. As in, this day. His birthday. He didn't know how, but Buggy had found out what day it landed on, and there was no escaping the consequences behind that.
Buggy was a clown after all. And, as the apparent Boss Clown around here, he was required (not really) to throw a birthday party for Crocodile.
By the time Crocodile realized what was happening, he tried to put a stop to it. It was too late though. Buggy had an underground influence that rivaled Crocodile's own, and the party was pretty much set. All preparations had already been made and there was no going back. The entire island was coming.
Well, Crocodile decided for himself that he wouldn't go. Everyone was going to be drunk off their asses anyway, it's not like they would notice.
Except for a few keen-eyed individuals.
Mihawk and his boy, the Seraphim child, had been working in the kitchen all day. No doubt Mihawk was cooking up something just for Crocodile, since the Cross Guild chefs would be handling the majority of the party's food. Everytime Talon passed by his office door, the boy would glance at him with a knowing smile. This would happen every few hours.
Crocodile could already picture the scathing, disappointed, and murderous glare from Mihawk if he did not at least show up to try whatever it was they were making. He thought about just hiding out somewhere on the island until the party ended, but Talon was just as much a hunter as his father, and that theoretical game of hide and seek would be over before Crocodile could get comfortable in his hideout.
So it seemed after all that Crocodile would be going to his own birthday party. He sighed and sunk back in his chair behind his desk, rubbing his temple. It was for appearances, he told himself. Just appearances. Like any other bothersome business meeting, at least he could decide that he was not going to enjoy it.
Crocodile glance over at the wall from his chair. The clock said 4:30. Evening shenanigans around here usually started at five. He was out of precious quiet, solitary time. He shut his eyes and tried not to dread what was coming.
Biddabiddabidda...
Crocodile sat up and stared at the transponder snail on the corner of his desk. He wasn't expecting any business or calls, so who could possibly be calling this late?
Maybe he finally had a distraction. Maybe this would be his salvation.
He picked up the receiver and the snail clicked the connection. "Yes?" he answered in a purposefully gruff voice.
There was some shuffling sounds on the other end. "Uhhh....hello?"
Crocodile almost dropped the receiver. No, that wasn't... "Is that really y-"
"Crocodile! Hey! Happy Birthday!"
"...Straw Hat? How did you get this number?"
More shuffling the background, until the other seemed to sit still. "Robin gave it to me! She said today's your birthday!"
Robin. "Why are you calling me, Straw Hat?"
"To tell you Happy Birthday, dummy!"
Crocodile was completely thrown for a loop. He resisted asking why again and fell back into the familiar safety of his dealing with business tone. "What is it you want, Straw Hat? I'm a very busy man. If it's Emperor business, you're going to have to talk to Buggy and that's a completely different number, which I'm not giving to you because I am not that clown's secretary."
"Hahahaha! You're funny!"
Crocodile was losing his patience. "Lu-" he caught himself, "Straw Hat. I appreciate the call, but what do you want?"
"Hey Croc," the other began, and Crocodile noticed the sudden shift in tone, "Jinbe told me what you did that day, at Marineford, and well, I never got to say thank you. You really saved us both."
There was a beat of silence before Crocodile responded. "Heh, you're welcome. Don't expect me to do it again, you brat." And please don't ask me why I did it...
Thankfully, another quick laugh told Crocodile the seriousness of their conversation was gone. "Heeheehee! You're a pretty neat guy after all, Croc! I hope we get to face each other again someday!"
"Heh, me too kid."
"You bet on it!" was the excited reply.
"It's good to hear your voice," Crocodile said before he could stop himself.
"Really? Why-Oh!" There was some shouting in the background. "I gotta go! It's time to eat! Happy Birthday Croc!"
"Thanks, Straw Hat."
"Bye Wani!"
The line clicked as it disconnected. Crocodile sat there frozen from those parting words. He suddenly remembered a man with long, wild hair joyfully waving at him from the deck of a ship. "Bye Wani! I'll see you soon! I love you!"
He set the receiver down.
He pushed that memory away, back to where it belonged with all the others. He leaned back in his chair and drew a deep breath. His cigar was currently out of reach, but he didn't bother lifting it from the corner of the desk with a tendril of sand. The old memory was locked away again, but the new memory of Luffy remained fresh in his mind. His voice was young and full of energy. It sounded so alive.
It was direct, like Dragon.
It had a hint of gravel, like him.
Crocodile smirked to himself. At least that was quite the birthday surprise. He sat up in his chair, straight. He felt jittery. Like the day had just started, even though the clock now read 4:50. It would be getting dark outside soon, but he felt like a beam of sunlight had awoken him bright and early.
He was alert. He was hungry.
He tried not to think too hard about why his mood changed.
Just as he got up from the chair and began stretching his legs, Talon fluttered past his office door again. The little clone poked his head in this time, eyes bright. "Are you ready to eat!? Come see what we made for you!"
No sooner did the boy take off, did Mihawk appear carrying a silver tray and eyeing Crocodile expectantly. He didn't have too much time to frown though, as Crocodile headed for the door.
"You are required upstairs, per Buggy's orders," Mihawk said.
"I know, I know," Crocodile huffed. "Let's get this over with then." He knew Mihawk caught the small smile on his face as he brushed past him.
"Are we finally in a good mood today?" the swordsman asked, following behind.
"As good as it's going to get. Now let's go see what you cooked up for me before I change my mind."
He was sure Mihawk noticed the spring in his step too.
#Happy Birthday Crocodile! You grumpy old man!#sir crocodile#cross guild#dracule mihawk#talon the seraphim#one piece oc#monkey d. luffy#dragodile#crocodad#op crocodile#one piece
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